#sibling death mention tw

[scavengedlegacy]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Sugar Pot PARTIES: Alistair @deathsplaything and Natalia @scavengedlegacy. SUMMARY: Alistair's magical business gets whispered about and Natalia finds her way through his door as a new client. CONTENT WARNING: sibling death mentions

Keeping tabs on the people who lived in Wicked’s Rest has been a hobby long before Natalia took on the mantle of scavenger. Now? It was an important part of her job. And her job was how she had been traded a rumor about a man who could heal. While still bitter about the bite on her hand from Fredrick, it gave her the perfect excuse to nose around and ask questions.

The shop she had been directed to was a tea shop, filled with all assortment of flavors but gave off a distinctive magical vibe that she was sure TikTok would have loved. She eyed the inside of the shop around the counter, making sure they were alone before she approached. Her right hand brushed against one of the shelves and Natalia hissed in pain. She tucked her arm into her stomach and approached the man at the counter. Natalia pushed an almost shy smile to her face. (People liked smiles, and most men preferred women more on the demure side. So, she faked it.) “I heard you were the one to call for a fix if…” She let herself trail off, intentional in every silent beat she allowed before she picked up again. “I can’t afford a doctor, but my friend said I should get this looked at.” 

—

It was a slower point of the day, seeing as it was close to close. Not a lot of people went for a cup of tea at 3:30 on a random weekday. As soon as the bell rang, Alistair and Melody, behind the counter, put on their chipper smiles, only for Alistair to turn more serious as the girl who entered began to explain her predicament. Melody looked toward the girl, searching for any sign of injury. “She’s tucking her right arm against her,” Melody told the necromancer, who simply stood there and nodded. “Right.” He said before moving from behind the counter toward the girl. Brutus, his guide dog, was ready to work as soon as he started to walk. 

Alistair took hold of the harness’s lead and cast his unseeing gaze in the girl’s direction. “Now what happened?” He asked, raising a brow from behind his rounded sunglasses. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened, the truth. Otherwise, it’s not going to work.” He explained to her with that same raised brow. “The name’s Alistair. And you heard right, I can help you. But it’ll cost you.” He placed his free hand to his hip. “And before you take out your money, that’s not what I’m asking. I take something that means something to you. If you need my services badly enough, that’s what it’ll cost.”

—

Her gaze drifted toward the other behind the counter who was describing what she was doing to the man. The dots connected all too fast. Natalia tipped her head, looking the man over once more. He was blind. Partially, at least. Enough that he needed someone else describing the situation. But he asked for the truth of the situation, and her eyes moved back to the woman once more. How much did she know of the supernatural? How much could she say without sounding crazy? A moment of hesitation, and she finally opened her mouth. “One of the strange reindeer that showed up, I tried to feed it and it bit me.”

A cost. In any other situation, Natalia would have shown up at a friend’s home with some alcohol and bandages and sorted it differently, but the rumors surrounding Alistair had piqued her interest. And she wouldn’t have answers if she backed up now that it would cost her something other than money. After all, didn’t she only deal with trades as well? Petty cash had its uses, but in the world she interacted with regularly, some things were far more valuable. “Something that means something,” she repeated quietly. “I didn’t bring anything like that with me, but I have something back home.”

— 

Upon learning that she was bit by one of the reindeer, Alistair realized this was going to be a lot more interesting than he thought. If it was a reindeer bite, that means he would have to get up close and person with his victim’s arm… Alistair concealed the displeased face that curled over his expression by turning around for a moment. Amused, Melody simply walked over to the front door and flipped the sign to “Stepped out, Be Back Soon!” And locked the door. “Follow me,” she spoke with a soft and inviting smile before Alistair could refuse the girl’s promise of a trade. He didn’t like being owed something, but it would have to do. 

Alistair picked up Brutus’s lead and followed the footsteps to the back room that was concealed with the heavy velvet curtain. Melody unlocked the door and opened it for Natalia and Alistair to enter. “Sit on the cushion in the center of the room,” he instructed as Brutus led him to another door tucked away on the far end of the small room. The floor had a large spellcircle drawn out on it, and Melody began to pick up various ingredients and place it at each point of the drawn-out pentacle. 

“Stay on that cushion and I’ll handle the rest.” Alistair spoke as he unlocked the door on the far end of the room and slinked through, shutting it behind him before Natalia could see what laid beyond it. Once he was in the room, he heard the struggle of chains, his victim was awake. “Relax. After this, you’ll be let go and your mind will be erased. Blissful ignorance for you.” Alistair told the chained-up person as if it were nothing more than a random day of the week where nothing interesting happened.

Back in the spell room, Melody finished setting up the ritual and looked to the room that Alistair had disappeared into. “We’re ready over here!” He called out to him. “He does his half of the ritual in the other room, we keep our practice a secret as not to be replicated.” She explained to the woman, taking a seat on the cushion across from her. 

—

Keeping up the act had been challenging in her younger years, but now, Natalia wore the demure victim mask like a second skin. Her eyes tracing the outline of Alistair’s face, memorizing every detail and trying to piece together the secrets that he held. But what he lacked in bedside manners, the woman, Melody, had it in spades. Her gentle smile was greeted by Natalia with a weaker one, not forced, but uncertain. Because she was. The best told lies had a trickle of truth to them, and while she had prepared herself mentally to be alone with this man, she hadn’t prepared for an assistant. Or a dog. Isolation was dangerous… but her desire for knowledge was greater. 

Following as instructed, Natalia let her eyes wander, taking in everything behind the curtain and then letting her gaze fall to the door that the man had disappeared behind. Whatever was happening here, she had a feeling what she wanted to know was locked behind that closed door. But that, she knew, would be a long con. The trust between them was nonexistent. 

Tearing her gaze away, she watched as Melody did the set up. Natalia shifted on the cushion, the feeling of anticipation starting to root itself in her mind. “How can he do what needs to be done if he didn’t get a feel for the wound?” Had the brief description been enough? But also, how could he perform all that needed to be done in an entirely different room? Running her healthy hand on the arm with the wound, she worried at her lip but stayed on the cushion as instructed. 

But seeing Melody on the cushion across from her, she realized now was her chance to at least get a sprinkle of information. “This isn’t dangerous, is it?” Natalia asked carefully. “I mean, not to me, I doubt… well I am sure it could get worse,” she laughed, keeping her voice light. “But this is a lot of set up for a wound like this, I figured I’d just get it cleaned and wrapped. This is… different.” But she made sure that her body language expressed it wasn’t a bad different, just unexpected. 

—

Melody watched the girl as she began to ask her questions. All good ones, but all questions that could lay a sprinkling of truth if she wasn’t careful. “He has his way of seeing,” she spoke in a gentle voice. She offered no further explanation than that. Her gaze flickered to the back door, which opened and allowed Brutus to walk out, who sat right in front of Natalia and stared at her. “Show the dog your arm.” Melody instructed. “This is how he sees.” She explained, gesturing to the dog. “He may be blind, yes, but we have tricks that go beyond what is explainable.” Was she being vague on purpose? Yes. Everyone who knew about what they did was privy to a degree of the supernatural, but she never surmised how much. To do so would be detrimental to what they’d been doing all these years.

From the other room, Alistair observed the bite. It had bitten around her thumb, the bite marks forming a half-moon around it. Nothing too serious, but definitely worrying if left untreated. She could have probably seen a doctor for some antibiotics and been fine, but that would have meant less fun for him. The spellcaster severed the connection and waved a hand. Brutus walked to the door and sat down in front of it, but wasn’t let back into the room.

“Start it!” Alistair shouted from the other room, which caused Melody to stand up and light the candles at all five points of the sigil that she had placed. “This will be an easy fix, you won’t feel a thing.” She explained to Natalia with a soft smile. Instead of using a lighter, the candles seemed to light on their own with a simple flick of Melody’s wrist. 

Alistair scowled at the man who sat in front of him. They were magically silenced, and when they opened their mouth to shout, nothing happened. Panic set into their eyes. Alistair reached out and gripped the man’s face, then let his hand travel down to their bound arm. This was the part that made Alistair hate his power the most; the healing ritual. It was the least awful thing a necromancer could perform, and yet in his eyes, it was still bad. Long had he fought the battle between himself and what he was capable of. Since he’d raised his first creature, he’d lived in fear of himself and his family who embraced it with pride. 

There was no pride where Alistair was concerned. He was damned, and so was the rest of the McKenzie family. He closed his eyes, and raised the hand to his mouth. “I hate this as much as you do,” he snarled at the man before biting down on the man’s thumb. The pale green mist that was synonymous with his casting began to form around Natalia’s bite mark, and around Alistair and his victim. 

The mist covered the bite, and then suddenly as it had appeared, it evaporated, leaving behind a hand that looked as if it had never been bitten at all. It was completely healed. From behind the locked door that Alistair had disappeared into, the necromancer reappeared, taking hold of Brutus’s lead and allowing the dog to bring him back into the room, standing in front of Natalia. “How does it feel?” He asked, brow raised behind his round sunglasses.

—

It was a strange form of magic that Natalia wasn’t expecting. Seeing through the eyes of a dog? Perhaps it was too much to assume that it was magic and not something as simple as an herbal salve that she hadn’t been given yet—but if the rumors were to be trusted? There was so much more to this than what was shown on the surface level. Her dark eyes changed their focus to the dog, not wanting to miss a second of anything in the room, but at the same time, having to choose carefully what she was going to see to the fullest. (Maybe a second trip would be needed.) 

Her uninjured hand still guarded the wound before curiosity beat out the hesitance she felt in her bones. Slowly, Natalia extended her hand to the dog, and before she knew it, the dog was sitting at the door, leaving her more confused than when she had started. Was this all some form of misdirection to keep the mystery up? Was there something more at play here? The woman sitting across from her was careful with her words, delicately navigating the conversation to not trip any alarms—not reveal too much to an outsider. It was admirable. She would have been a good Scribe. 

“That simple?” Doubt touched her tone, despite herself. There was so much more to the world than what Natalia knew, so much more than what was on the surface, what did she truly know about anything? And still, she doubted. Her hand coming back to guard the wound once more, feeling strange and vulnerable, inside a circle that made her skin crawl. The man shouted from the other room and Natalia watched in a suffocating silence as the candles were lit. The motions… that was magic. 

Too enthralled in the scene, Natalia forgot to feign surprise. Instead, she leaned forward, her eyes following the woman around the room, that sparkle of wonder showing through. A mist covered her hand, and then, just a moment later, the bite was gone and so was the pain. Her hand looked as untouched as it had that morning before she had tried to keep that reindeer as a pet. She held out her hand, looking at her skin as if expecting it to burst into flame or something else to happen, but nothing did. It was perfectly fine.

Alistair spoke and Natalia finally looked away from her hand and up toward the man. He might have been blind, but she was looking at him, right where she might meet his gaze. “I almost didn’t believe,” she admitted. “You have a remarkable talent.” 

—

“That simple,” he echoed with a half-smile. Of course, this was a lie. It was never ‘that simple.’ In fact, it was rather difficult. From gathering spell supplies to having to literally bite someone, it was gross and time-consuming. But Alistair believed in helping the right people. This girl, whoever she was, seemed genuine in needing help. And the person in the back room? Well, some people are irredeemable. 

Alistair wasn’t good with compliments. He wasn’t good at receiving praise of any kind. So when she told him he had talent, he shrunk under her gaze. “Right.” He said simply, nodding his head toward Melody, who moved to open the door. “Right, um.” He wiped a hand over his face, then crossed their arms over their chest. “About payment. It…” he sighed, knowing he didn’t do this often. “It didn’t take much. It wasn’t that big of a deal to heal. Just… whatever you see fit as payment is fine by me. It doesn’t have to be a big thing.” 

Sometimes, he felt bad for people. He felt a need to go easy on those who were simply out of options in places to go. “All I ask is that you be careful with who you tell about what I do here. Word of mouth is fine, just… don’t tell the wrong kind of people, yeah?” Alistair felt uncomfortable, the praise still lingering in the air, and he wanted to swat away like a fly buzzing around his face. 

—

Natalia remembered the terms that he had laid out at the start of their conversation. Something sentimental in value. There wasn’t much that she had in the ways that she could pay him, but there was one thing that popped to the front of her mind. The idea of letting it go twisted something inside of her, but a deal was a deal, and even if she wasn’t bound by the laws of fae in this regard, she was going to keep her promise. And as kind as he was being now in the aftermath of having to deal with such a trivial wound, she felt almost guilty that she had kept her true intentions hidden. Now wasn’t the time for a full confession, however, but she’d make a note of his name in her growing list of people that she owed, and give him a free service as the Scavenger if he ever found himself in need. 

“I appreciate this,” she offered with a nod of her head. “I couldn’t—” Natalia sighed, shaking her head with a weak smile. “There was someone I went to before, but I can’t go to them without them reporting it to my family. It’s, well, complicated. I’m sure you can understand.” Pulling her journal, a thankfully new one without too many meticulous notes written in the pages visible to anyone in the room, she wrote down her information and offered it to Melody. “I don’t expect you to accept just my word, but my address is on that paper and so is my number. You can test it now if you want, but I’ll be back…” she looked at the watch on her wrist and frowned. “Well, tomorrow morning? Say around 10?” 

There was a trust that he was extending to her, one that Natalia knew she didn’t fully deserve, but she was already writing the rules of this encounter in her mind. She had traded a trinket for the knowledge of this man and his establishment, but knowing what he could do and how meaningful it could be to those in need? She had quickly categorized this as something that wasn’t going to be up for trade. “I won’t,” she promised. 

—

Alistair listened as Natalia spoke, silent and careful. “Whatever the reason, it’s your own.” He responded with a raise of his hand. “I understand complicated family relationships, believe me.” He added with a roll of his eyes, thinking of his own family back in Scotland. He gritted his teeth, hoping he’d never have to speak with them again. It was better not to dwell on the past. He shook his head, willing the thoughts of ignored calls from his siblings to the wayside. 

Melody took the paper and looked it over, then nodded her head and slipped it into her pocket and opened the door to allow the girl safe passage to leave on her own accord. “Around 10, I’ll be here.” Alistair promised with a nod of his head. “A pleasure doing business, now don’t go around getting bit by more reindeer, yes?” His face contorted as he muttered “Or whatever else could possibly come next.” Knowing the nature of the town they called home, anything was possible.

[cokoweee]

Ok so imma slap tw/cw on this cause I’m JUST NOW REMEMBERING death is an issue for ppl. Lemme know if I missed a tag

Also the update is mad messy. Well, it’s a messy situation. At some point I forgot.what was staying what was going

<===—===>

[angelpuns]

How did Leo diee in the L330N au?

I've talked about it a bit before, but here's a rough comic of what happened:

TW IMPLIED DEATH, DISCUSSION OF DEATH, FAMILY DEATH

So basically, Leo went out on a rescue/cargo mission to both save a bunch of people as well as bring back necessary medical supplieas and food.

His ninpo is weaking somewhat at this point, so he can't portal super long distances, so he takes one of Donnie's new ships. They're untested in the field, but Donnie's crunched the numbers and they should pull through.

However, the ship is shot down and Leo evacuates all the cvivilians, before going back for the necessary supplies. He goes down with the ship and it explodes on impact. So there's not really anything left :/

Donnie feels a lot of guilt for many reasons. He thinks he should have gone instead, but knows it had to be Leo so he could properly save the civilian. But he wishes he had been able to tes the ship better. That he had been able to at least keep it rom exploding.

When I was finding screenshots for the ships in the beginning of the ROTTMNT movie I noticed they DON'T explode on impact, so in this au, I like to think Donnie learned from his mistake and made them less likely to explode/catch fire/etc. He also made them controlled by AI/a drone situation so it isn't necessary for someone to be in the ship for it to work. That bit wouldn't have helped a smuch in this situation, but he wanted them to be as safe a spossible so that the worst thing would be an injury rather than death.

I eventually wanna make a more detailed comic of this, possibly as a L330-N chapter :)

L330-N Masterpost

[onejellyfishplease]

I'm not alone (I promise)

New au??

new au that doesnt focus on traumatising Donnie?

(Next) (more doodles)

[cupcakeslushie]

EW!Future Leo reaction to Casey Jr calling him dad by accident, how it would be? Like, would he react good or awkward?

And, did Future Donnie also create that shell for Casey Jr?? OMG Bonding time, we need to know if this two got bonding time.

How did Raph’s death affect the future EW! Family? Did they become more distanced from one another or?

I did Casey receiving his battle shell, but Casey calling Leo dad would be the two of them freezing and losing function in their brains while they each rebooted. But rest assured, Leo would cry tears of joy later, either to April or Usagi.

I’m actually working on something now that will go into how the family reacts to the deaths that are going to happen in the bad timeline so hopefully we’ll see that sometime-I have no idea when, but I can say, it’s not great. Not so much they grow distant, but there is a lot of emotions being thrown about.

[intotheelliwoods]

Part 1

Part 2 can be found here

Masterpost

[psychologicalwarclaire]

For the angsty ask game:

14. "You just watched them die." With Leo and Raph?

:3

Thanks @promptsbytaurie for the list!

Raph slumped with his shell to the wall. The members of the resistance gave him a wider berth than usual.

Maybe it was the way his Raph-chasm currently took over his whole face. Maybe it was the dried blood that clung to his plastron, arms, and legs like rust. Maybe it was the guilt stink that rolled off of him, overpowering even the dull bloody scent.

Or maybe they'd heard what happened.

It was a busy hallway, but Raph still felt incredibly alone.

All three of his brothers were in the medbay behind him, and as far as he knew, only one of them was conscious.

As far as he knew, Leo was doing everything to stabilize the others.

As far as he knew, the mission was a complete failure.

As far as he knew, Raph had failed.

With a hiss, the door slid open. Leo walked out, each step as heavy as the weight of the world he constantly shouldered.

Raph had had hours to plan what to say. But looking at his exhausted brother, he couldn't think of a single thing to say. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to demand how his brothers were. He wanted Leo to look at him.

But he didn't.

Leo stared at the ground. "They'll live."

The breath Raph hadn't realized he'd been holding left him with dizzying speed.

"Michaelangelo's legs are broken and Donatello's shell is... not great. But they'll both recover."

Uh oh, full names. He's upset.

Raph's heart squeezed. "That's... that's good."

Leo's eyes flashed. "Oh yeah, it's good. Just great. Peachy!" He turned sharply and took off down the hall.

Shooting to his feet, Raph took off after him. "Leo! Leo wait, please! Just--"

"Just what, Raphael? You wanna say sorry? You wanna make things right? You're not the one who has to go and give an official report to the families of the dead. You don't have to be the one to look them in the eyes and tell them that their loved one got crushed to death!"

Screams overtaken in a cloud of pulverized concrete, the dust settling over silence flashed through Raph's mind.

Horror settled in his limbs; Mikey wasn't the only one who could throw buildings.

Krang laughed and laughed and laughed and Raph merely clutched the limp bodies of his brothers tighter.

Now, in the shrinking hallway with Leo, guilt was gurgling in the back of Raph's throat. The only thing to stop it from coming up like bile was the resolute ninpo that had burned away all other options.

"Now," Leo growled, "I have to deal with this whole mess, with losing half of my best troops, with my brothers' injuries, and," his face twisted into something venomous, "now I have to deal with knowing my big brother isn't the hero I always thought he was."

The words yanked Raph's tongue out. Icy water splashed over his ninpo, and the guilt dug it's hooks behind his plastron.

"You just watched them die, Raphael."

Raph could have walked away. He could have denied it. He could have agreed and gotten things over with. But Raph was nothing without his family. He would defend them every time. And if Leo couldn't see that, well. Then he didn't know Raph at all.

"Are you callin' me a coward, Leo?" he growled.

"Maybe I am!"

Dimly, he realized the hallway was now deserted. Apparently no one wanted to be near two large, angry mutants.

Raph drew himself up to his full height. The top of his mask brushed the roof.

"I had to make a choice, and I chose to save my brothers. Are you tellin' me you'd let them die?"

"You're supposed to be a hero!" Leo yelled. "How are we supposed to save the world if you're only focused on yourself?!"

"If anything happens to Raph's family, then it means the world isn't worth saving!" Raph bellowed.

"All that talk about being a hero and you're nothing but a scared wimp! What happened to the brother who pushed us to be better? What happened to the brother who wanted to be heroes? What happened to the brother who thought he could save everyone? What happened to my brother who was strong enough to do anything?! What happened to my brother, Raph!?"

"HE'S GONE!"

"YEAH, I NOTICED!"

"No, I don't think you did. I think you want me to be infallible and perfect everythin' you can't be."

Years of arguing with Leo had taught Raph the exact right wrong wrong so very wrong words to say.

"Well I'm not. Yeah, I could have saved those people but our brothers would have died. Yeah, blood is on my hands but what else is new? Yeah, people died but all of my brothers are here. So I'll make my choices and live with them, Leonardo."

"You're wrong."

In juxtaposition with the yelling earlier, Leo's voice was deathly quiet.

"All of your brothers aren't here."

Now, for the first time since Krang had ambushed them, Raph felt true fear. "Don't," he whispered.

Rage, pain, disgust twisted Leo's face into something unrecognizable.

"You only have two brothers now. Count me out, coward."

He turned and marched away.

Raph wanted to chase after him more than anything, but he stood rooted to the spot.

Right then and there, Raph vowed that he would fix this. He would make things right. He would spend the rest of his life making it up to Leo, if he had to.

Because if they were divided like this, his family was as good as dead.

--

Raph never got to see how right he was.

Leo clutched a ragged red bandana to his chest, whispering an endless stream of apologies to it. But neither the bandana or Raph could hear him.

The longer Leo clutched at it, the more his older brother's blood oozed out onto his hands.

Leo screamed.

[s0fti3w1tch]

Sooooo.... the disaster twin stuff really got my heart in the oof ouchy ouchy. How about Mikey and Raph? I feel like we haven't seen much of their POVs nothing against Donnie at all but I'm super curious

Hey! I kinda just scroll through Tumblr when I'm on my break sometimes and I just wanna say that your stuff's fucking cool. And as someone raised in a cult as well I'm very intrigued to see where you go with Tentative Devotee.

Mikey and Raph are...

It's hard to draw family portraits when you're not growing with us

How were you gone so fast?

Also: Aww thank you! I'm glad you're intrigued. I hope my upcoming work is enjoyable!

TD!AU Masterpost (to be updated soon)

[the-broken-pen]

Hello! i love your cat villian one so much maybe do more??????

but ignore if not (AMAZING BLOG EVER)

The protagonist was dying. They were sure of it, they could feel it, this all consuming terror and in the way they couldn’t draw a full breath into their lungs, like it was funneled through a straw and it was killing them–

Their vision went blurry and they crumpled against the wall, curling into a half-hearted ball over their knees against the baseboard. There was blood splattered over their hands. They just–if they could just–a tiny bit of air–

A hand, warm and gentle, appeared at the nap of their neck, tipping their head up to look at their face.

The protagonist blinked, and the villain was there, and they were watching them die, and oh god they were going to get fired–

“Breathe,” the villain said, and it sounded like they were under water. A million miles away. Point Nemo. Their sister had told them about that once, in the middle of the night as they sat on the roof.

It must be so lonely, she had said, head tipped to the stars. To be so far from everyone else.

The protagonist had wanted to say, I don’t need to be far from everyone else to feel lonely. I’m Point Nemo, can’t you see? But they hadn’t, had just hummed something in agreement, and the villain was telling them to “breathe,” again.

I’m trying, the protagonist wanted to sob. I’m trying, I’m trying, I’m trying.

“Protagonist,” the villain cupped their face in their hands, and through the blurring of the protagonist’s vision, they looked absolutely terrified.

Which didn’t make sense, because the villain always knew exactly what to do in every situation. It was comforting to be in the shadow of someone who knew exactly how they fit into the world.

The villain said something, and the protagonist blinked.

“What?” they managed. The villain snapped their head to look up at them.

“I said, I’m calling your mom.”

Abruptly, terror was flooding their veins again, and they slammed the phone out of the villain’s hand and onto the concrete.

The villain just watched them, concern stark on their face.

“Protagonist–”

“You can’t call her,” they gasped out, chest tight. “She’ll worry and–I can’t do that to her, not after my sister, she can’t do that again.”

Point Nemo. One million miles away.

Really, though, just six feet down.

It felt the same.

“Okay,” the villain said, low and soothing, like they were a scared child. They were. “Okay, I won’t call her, but I need you to breathe,” they emphasized.

“I’m trying,” the protagonist bit out, sucking in air that didn’t seem to be doing anything. How could it not be doing anything? This was one of the worst things that could be happening to them, let alone in front of their boss. They were supposed to be stronger than this, they were stronger than this, so why were they shaking against the baseboard in the hallway of their base. Idly, they looked down at the blood coating their arms, and couldn’t remember whose it was.

“I don’t know how to help you,” the villain admitted, voice breaking.

The protagonist couldn’t get their hands to stop shaking.

If they could just draw a breath–

Blood is harder to get off than you would expect. It clings and clings and clings–

The villain followed their gaze down, and a moment later, they had a wet wipe in their hand, wiping down the protagonist’s hands with an efficiency they could never hope to imitate.

They flinched away from the cold of it a second too late, and the villain frowned.

“You’re okay,” the villain promised, and the protagonist wanted to believe them.

They still choked on the next breath they tried to take, and it hurt and was miserable and the protagonist just wanted it to stop.

The villain said something that sounded like their name again, and they wanted to respond but felt the words get caught in their ribs, and the villain vanished and–

They were holding a cat.

Their shoulders untensed immediately, hands curling softly into the fur, as softly as they could manage while shaking, and they bit their lip to keep from crying at how useless they felt. How could they not figure out how to use their own hands? They bit back a sob, because nothing was working and they couldn’t bear to hurt a cat.

The cat curled itself further against the protagonist’s chest, tucked into their arms in the hollow between their knees and their abdomen.

The villain was–oh.

Oh, the protagonist was so stupid.

The villain was kind, kinder than they deserved, probably, turning into a cat just to make the protagonist stop having a meltdown in their hallway.

The protagonist just needed to get their legs to stop being numb, and then they could stand up and go hide in the bathroom until their body remembered how to do its job, and stop bothering the villain with their stupid problems and panic.

And then, abruptly, the villain began to purr, rumbling into the protagonist's chest.

Some knot deep inside of them that they hadn’t realized existed uncoiled, and they sucked in a breath so deep they thought it would never end. They choked on it on the way out, but the villain simply kept purring, so they tried again, and again, until their vision unblurred and the ache in their lungs had vanished.

“Okay,” the protagonist murmured to themself. Sometimes, they could trick themself by talking in the tone they used on frightened children when out on patrol. “You’re okay, I’m okay, everything is fine.”

They moved to set the villain down, but the villain dug their claws into the protagonist’s arm, nudging their face into their bicep.

Are you really okay? They seemed to ask, and the protagonist didn’t have an answer to that. They could breathe, and feel their toes, and they could remember–oh.

They could remember.

Blood on their hands.

The villain started purring again, and the protagonist burst into tears, burying their face into the villain’s fur. The villain let them, nudging the side of the face every so often in a reminder to breathe.

They stayed like that, until the protagonist’s tears had dried, and their heart only panged a little bit when the villain jumped down out of their arms and onto the floor in front of them.

A blink, and the villain was in front of them again, eyes filled with concern as they grabbed onto the protagonist’s elbows.

“You’re okay,” the villain breathed, and then the protagonist was pulled into a hug so warm they never wanted to leave. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” the protagonist agreed, face tucked into the villain’s chest.

The villain simply hugged them tighter.

Point Nemo had never felt further away.

[crumbleclub]

drabble.

Outside of Fredbear's Family Diner, there are a set of handprints in the sidewalk. The Afton and Emily children had lined up, biggest to smallest, and pressed their palms into cold, wet concrete. They were excited to leave their mark on this place.

Maybe they'd all come back one day to see how much they had grown; how tiny the handprints in the sidewalk seemed to them now. They couldn't wait to find out who they would become.

Every child who'd left their handprint in the sidewalk was gone, now. None of them had made it to twenty years old.

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 10, Day 12, Day 17

“Can you hear me?” | Fear | “You don’t want to do that.” | Struggle | Grief

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Contains: royalty whump, restraints, death mention, murder mention, fantasy drug/potion, threats

WC: 620

Mark my words

A door creaked open. Light flashed, illuminating his prison: a dark dungeon cell with a single door, thick wood with only a tiny, barred opening through which a guard might peer to inspect his prisoner and ensure he still drew breath. It swung wide, swaying on its rusted hinges. The seer flinched at the door’s ominous croak.

In stepped a man he’d never seen before.

“Seer-prince,” said the stranger. “Or, rather, former prince.”

The seer thrashed in his chains, choking on words he didn’t have the time or wherewithal to plan. Stifled words of rage and confusion—and fear.

“Your family’s line is ended, and you are a prisoner,” said the stranger. He folded his arms, watching the seer’s struggles coolly. “The former king and queen are dead. You serve a new queen, and a new crown prince.” He smiled. “Me.”

Dead. “No,” he tried to say. “No!”

“Yes. Killed, too, is your brother. And your court. Nothing remains.”

“My . . . brother . . . ?” Only seventeen. Brave and brash. Dead.

“Slain with my own blade. I slit his throat.”

The grey eyes glinted, as if he knew was the seer would ask next. As if he anticipated it.

“My . . . sister . . .” He coughed, forcing out the garbled syllables, as shock and panic burrowed into him even more.

Dead?

The usurper grinned. “Alive.” He chuckled. “And she will remain so, if you do as I say. So, listen well.”

Too much, too fast. His parents and brother, slaughtered. His sister, living—but where? Hurt? What had happened to her? Had she witnessed the murders? Had this killer really kept her alive? To what purpose? Was it too much to hope for? What if this so-called prince was lying?

And how was he to know, locked in a dungeon, with no memories to fall back on because he’d been too much of a coward to face his visions every night?

“I said, listen, seer.”

The voice was cold and cruel, sneering and harsh, but it was not wrathful. It did not shout. Its patience was wearing thin, but that patience endured. For now.

With no other option, the seer looked up. The usurper’s image swam and wobbled.

“I own you now,” said the usurper, “and your fascinating little magic trick.” He smiled. “Ah—yes—I know about your visions, and how you chose the path of weakness to avoid them. There will be no more of that. All you see? Mine to know.” He stepped forward and crouched, and though he lowered his voice, the words only seemed to grow louder. “You will spill every secret, and your precious sister lives another day.”

The revulsion, the thought of coping with the visions every night for the rest of his life until they finally destroyed him, had him shaking his head in horror.

“Oh,” said the usurper softly. “Mark my words. You don’t want to refuse me. I will not make this kind, merciful offer again. So. In case your soft, drug-addled brain didn’t comprehend the first time, I will repeat myself once. Do you hear me? Only once.”

The seer stilled, bile burning hot and rancid in his throat.

“You are mine to wield and to control. There will be no more suppressing of your visions. If you don’t learn to control this gift of yours, and if you refuse to share what you learn with me and the queen you now serve, I will kill your sister in front of you, and then it will be your turn, and your family’s bloodline will be ended once and for all.”

The tears in the seer’s eyes spilled over, soaking into the heavy muzzle that rendered him unable to acquiesce. The chains fell still and silent.

The usurper prince smiled again.

June of Doom Masterlist

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@juneofdoom

All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[cokoweee]

Drops this and runs far far away 🏃‍♀️💨

Tw for suicidal thoughts and attempt

~

Donatello woke up in the medbay. An IV was hooked to his vein, shifting slightly as he flexed his arm. He groaned, rubbing a hand against the top of his head. A fine layer of fuzz brushed over his fingertips.

Was he growing hair? That was… bizarre. He was pretty sure that hadn’t been there yesterday. But then again, he’d been pretty much catatonic for nearly a month. He ran his fingers through the fuzz once more just to be sure. Sure enough, a thin layer covered his head.

There were more pressing matters though. Like how on earth had his twin appeared to him last night? He had no idea how any of the Hamato ghost stuff worked. He could search for his dads scrolls.

Or

He could join his brothers.

It was a perfect idea. He would see them again and then he would be ok. He would feel whole. There was no one here to miss him anyway.

He stood up quietly, careful not to disturb the sleeping goat in the corner as he unhooked himself from the IV. He softly padded his way to the medicine cabinet, face set in a grim determination. He reached inside and snagged the first thing he saw.

A bottle of ibuprofen? Perfect.

A stolen bottle of Norco? Even better.

He grabbed both and reached to the side to take a small daisy cup and fill it with water. He took another daisy cup and opened the bottles. Slowly emptying both, painstakingly taking the effort to make no noise, he swirled the pills around the cup with his finger.

He stared at it blankly. The cup was nearly full, but not quite. Was he really going to do this? He reached up again to grab a large bottle of NyQuill as well as a few unlabeled bottles. He emptied the water cup and filled it to the brim with the ni quill before topping off the drug cocktail cup with a healthy dose of pain meds.

He moved the cup in his hand, listening to the sound it made. Would it be the last he ever heard? Falling asleep to never wake up again? Or would he die slowly and painfully like his brothers had, listening to himself take his last breath?

He raised his eyes to the sleeping figure in the corner. A twinge if something aches in his chest as he watches the alchemist's chest rise and fall. He was going to single handedly leave him without a family.

But it was better this way. Better to be out of his hair than to live as a disappointment. He tipped both cups in his mouth at once, swallowing quickly and headed back to his cot.

He expected to feel something. But he just felt numb. There was no remorse, no guilt, no regret. He’d expected at least one of those. He’d never wanted to die before the invasion. But he had no one -nothing- to live for.

Voices hissed around him. They were not his own. He shook slightly as they screamed at him to wake up Drax. He didn’t want to. He wanted to see his brothers. He didn’t want to deal with this.

The room took on a hazy edge. Colors shifted together as his lungs sluggishly forced air in and out. It felt like something was pressing down on his chest, keeping him from breathing. His stomach hurt. He didn’t really like that part. The haze shifted slowly to darkness, covering his vision completely.

His heart raced. He could still feel things. But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.

He panicked. His lungs hurt. He didn’t want to hurt. He just wanted to see his brother. He just-

“What did you do to yourself boy?” Draxum spoke with a hushed voice, a clear urgency behind it.

When he gave no answer, he was forced on his side. A tube stuck down his throat. He gagged, but Draxum forced the tube further. He still couldn’t breathe.

Fat tears leaked from his closed eyes. He didn’t want to die like this. But he didn’t want to live like this either.

Sounds floated around him as he laid there, tears leaking pathetically from his face. He shook violently, whether it was from the tube in his throat or his crying he had no clue. He messed up.

The tube was pulled from his mouth. He gagged again, heaving slightly, but nothing came up.

“You don’t have anything in your stomach right now.” Draxum explained slowly. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

His eyelids fluttered open after a beat. He looked up shakily to see Draxum staring at him in disbelief. He looked away, his face heating in shame. What was he supposed to do now? Tell him thank you? It wouldn’t be genuine. A part of him wanted to wait for him to go to bed and find another way- an easier way- to see his brothers, one Draxum couldn’t save him from. Another part of him wished he had never even attempted to do this. He knew his brothers would be upset if they knew he had tried.

He took a deep breath and opened his mouth. He meant to tell him thank you anyway. But a small warbled chirp came out instead. Childish and fearful. He chirped again, unable to find his words. Draxum just looked at him, a pitiful expression on his face. He warbled another chirp, letting it fall into a sob that raked his entire body.

Draxum pulled him close, sheltering his body from the rest of the medbay. He bleated a soft melody back to him, his hand rubbing circles over his bare shell. He didn’t want to dwell on the fact that someone was here caring for him. Loving him and making sure that he was ok. That he was wrong in his assumption that no one cared. That there was someone that cared about him. That wanted him safe.

He was exhausted. He slumped against his fathers chest, tears mixing with his exposed fur and clung to him. He let himself be rocked back and forth gently as he fell asleep.

He would find an easier way to see his brothers.

~

Donatello shuffled his feet over the floor, a blanket wrapped around him like a cape. He needed this, he reminded himself.

He’d tried everything. Listening to music louder than his own thoughts. But somehow his own head was louder than anything his speakers could produce. He still put it on though, focusing on that instead of the whispers in his head.

He’d welded his brother's rooms shut so he wouldn’t think about how they would stay empty forever. But now he had nothing left of his brothers. Not to mention, he was a danger to the only person who still cared about him he had left.

He needed a way to stop it.

He stopped outside the spare train car Draxum had been using for the past week. He needed this, he reminded himself.

Draxum had cleared the house of anything he could use to harm himself. Knives disappeared from the kitchen, the bathroom and med bay had been raided for any leftover medications. He was out of options.

He dragged his feet across the floor as he walked in. The alchemist was at his desk, mixing together a tincture for him. He wondered if it was the one to help him to sleep at night, or the one that would knock him out when he had another inevitable episode. He hoped it wasn’t the second, he had a fix for that.

“Yes? What would you like?” He murmured, not looking up from his work.

“I have a way to stop the episodes.”

Draxum’s head rose from the desk, his face painting a clear picture of his doubt.

He shuffled on his feet again, pulling the blueprints from beneath the blanket and handing them wordlessly to the goat. He took them quickly and frowned as his eyes skimmed the page.

“You’re joking right? This isn’t sustainable in any way.”

He shook his head. “I almost blew up the house the other day.” He countered quickly. “And the week before I fried everything within a mile radius of me. And- and the week before that I- I, ya know. I need a way to control it and now I have it.”

“It’s inhumane is what it is.”

“Oh, and when have you ever cared about being humane?”

“I will not attach a shocking device to my only living son.” He said firmly, planting his hoof to the floor.

He could have said a lot of things at that moment. That he was not his son. That Draxum was not his father. That he had tried to kill him on multiple occasions. That the only reason he was even here was because his dad seemed to have a fond spot for him. But he didn’t. He needed a way to make it work.

“There has to be something else you could do. Something else you want?” He questioned slowly.

“I want my brothers back.” He spat. “I want my dad and sister back. But I can’t have that can I?” He growled, ignoring the flash of fear in the alchemist's face as his ninpo flared protectively.

“You don’t get it. You don’t get what it’s like to have the voices of your dead family in your head. You don’t get what it’s like to never have that stop. You don’t get what it’s like to see them only to have them disappear. You don’t get what it’s like to lose control of yourself, the-the one thing that still connects you to your family still. To know that you can’t control it.

“I need it.” He quavered, not caring that he was practically begging. “I can’t live like this anymore. I feel like I’m going insane and I don’t -I don’t know any other way to fix it. What do I need to do to convince you? I’ll do anything. Anything.”

The goat stared at him as he sank to the ground, curling the blanket around himself and tightening into a ball. He had that stupid pitting look on his face again. It made him want to throw things. He wasn’t a child. He knew what he was doing, he didn’t have to be treated like a fragile little doll.

“Lower the voltage and set a limit.” He responded after a beat.

“Of course yeah yeah I’ll do that.” He breathed, letting some of the tension fall from his body. “It’s a yes then?”

“Only because I believe it will help you in the long run.” He said, running a hand over his face.

~

Donnie opened his eyes. His face was pressed against the smooth surface of the chair Draxum had used. It was wildly uncomfortable. He moved a hand to push himself up blinking slowly.

His back felt stiff. He sat up to stretch when a hand pushed him back down.

“Let’s take it slow, yeah?”

The hand moved to his bottom of his back, another reaching for his hand. He accepted the hand and carefully sat up. Something twinged in his shell and he stretched. He hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.

He sat for a moment, eyes raking over the room. Other than the occasional shuffle from his goat father, there was no sound. His head was silent. There were no voices telling him what to do, what to think. A laugh bubbled up from his chest.

It was quiet.

~

I love taking source material and blowing it way out of proportion

Anyway that’s all for this so, au revoir

-writing anon 🤡

I still have to edit the not angsty fic

AT THIS POINT U WRITIMG THE PARTS I CANT AHDHEHAYAHFHWOAHDHW

Tw/cw will DEFINETLY be put but AUGHH RAAUUGHGARARARARARARARRA

Part 2

[angelpuns]

I said I'd talk about some L330-N Au things today so here's some bits about his origins:

CW for death mention, family/sibling death mention

So this is Future/apocalypse Leo in about 2030~ ish , he died when one of Donnie's ships went down in a Kraang attack :/

And because of a lotta guilt ( though the crash was not his fault at all ) Donnie decided ' you know what would fix this? Robot Leo :) '

So he made L330-N :) Who has most if Leo's memories and mannerisms, Donnie isn't sure how much of it is programming or the remainder of Leo's spirit, but he's happy to have his brother back.

About a year after L330-N was completed, Raph also died in a Kraang attack :(

A few months later, L330-N disappeared. None of his trackers were available or anything. Donnie decided it was better if he didn't create a matching Raph bot after that :(

L33 doesn't know any of this. He has 0 memories before ' waking up' in the middle of barren New York City. He only knows his name ( or part of it ) due to it being written on his chest.

L330-N Master post

[uncanny-tranny]

A really sinister aspect into how people view children and parents is the idea of children being a replaceable commodity.

I've seen this in the way people talk about parents who have lost children but have surviving children... "Oh, at least you have other children," as though a child is just an interchangeable tool, a machine that dispenses what you want from it without it being sentient, whole, and feeling. The fact that people say that in order to comfort somebody shows, to me, how deep this mindset is engraved in people's brains: children are interchangeable items, and they do not fundamentally matter.

[onlytiktoks]

[intotheelliwoods]

Yeah the mission here didnt go to well, Raph was not expected to be a casualty....

And funny story, Medium Leo did need that scarf one day

Masterpost