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lafortezaboy · 2 days ago

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hey babes i'm sorry to hear that you have a time during the holidays 😢

this is actually my first time ever requesting !

can i request some dani x tmasc reader please 🙏

thank you lovely! you're a sweetheart, and holiday things did get a little overwhelming so i've only just gotten around to this, but i hope you enjoy! and, i'm honored to be your first request!!

content / warnings: established relationship, reader is an influencer, reader uses he / him pronouns, reader talks about being trans / realizing they were trans, there's no explicit transphobia but there are mentions of it, so please keep that in mind before reading

it wasn't often that you spent the night at the dorm. while you loved all the girls in your own way, with five other people living there, it could get chaotic quickly, and sometimes you and daniela just wanted to spend some time together. but when you had texted your girlfriend, asking if she wanted to come watch a new show with you, the texts you'd gotten back were worrisome.

daniela was never truly down. sure, she was just like everyone else and could be upset or sad, but her bright personality nearly always outshined in the end. unless something serious was wrong, she could shrug off anything. so getting the text that she didn't want to leave her bed? you'd told her you'd be there as soon as you could be, knowing that something was up.

getting to the dorm was no trouble, and sophia wasn't surprised to see you at all when she opened the door. that alone confirmed it, that something was wrong, and you needed to find out what. as soon as she saw you enter her room, she was lifting the blanket up for you, and you were slipping in beside her to pull her close, pressing kisses to her cheeks and the tip of her nose, telling her that it was okay, that you had her now.

you couldn't tell how much time passed as you held her, waiting until she was ready to talk, if she was willing to at all. you didn't mind the silence, though. you could hear faint squeals from one of the other girls – megan, if you had to guess, and you could hear the light noises that came with sophia making dinner. but daniela was what you focused on, on the way her hair felt so soft between your fingers, how her head rested perfectly in your neck, the comforting scent of her perfume. you could have fallen asleep, honestly, but when she shifted to look at you, she had your undivided attention.

"can i ask you something? about . . . about you, you know?" the way she asked the question clued you in pretty quickly, because you'd heard it before, from friends and family who were confused, from people who didn't understand. but her tone didn't feel the way theirs had, daniela seemed hesitant, but still a little curious. so you gave a little nod, fingers still running through her hair. "how did you know? that you're a man?"

the way she said it reassured that she meant no harm by it. others had worded it in such a way that had made you internally groan, fully expecting an argument by the time you were done. but she said it so surely, like she had no doubts, and that was partly why you felt the answer come so easily.

"well, for a while i didn't," you admitted, gazing up at the ceiling fan, watching the blades spin. "i knew i had always liked girls, and i was always a tomboy, but the gender stuff didn't really come in until puberty hit, and i started hating the way my body was changing." her arms tighten around you then, and you lean a little into her more, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead to show that you were okay.

"i started hating myself too, for a while, but i have great parents, and the second they realized i wasn't okay, they got me into a therapist. but i wasn't comfortable at first, because i had a woman therapist, and it just didn't feel like stuff i could say to a woman? so i asked to switch, and then they gave me this male therapist. and i could talk to him about stuff, you know? like sports and cars and video games, and all these things i had been taught that were the standard guy things, and i felt really comfortable with him. but i was jealous too, because i was going through all these changes and i didn't understand why my body couldn't look like his. why my voice couldn't get deeper or i couldn't grow facial hair, why i couldn't get taller. and eventually, i opened up to him about that, and he gave me a whole bunch of stuff to read about gender and sexuality."

you let out a small sigh then, and you could feel daniela's eyes on you, checking for any signs of discomfort. your arm just squeezed her a little, hoping to reassure her that it was okay. "so i read all the stuff, and it kinda just clicked to me that i was trans? and i think that i really knew a few months into transitioning, when my dad called me son like he did my brother, and it just felt right? like i didn't have to be the person i felt like i was forced to be, i could just be me, and my family would love me and have my back."

daniela's hand had made its way to your chest, and after you finished talking, yours came up to hold it, bringing it to your lips gently. "is there a reason you wanted to know, dani?" you asked, glancing over at her. the way her eyes avoided yours told you the answer, but you waited, wanting her to open up in her own time.

"this morning i . . . you know i watch all your tiktoks, like a lot," she started, and you let out a little hum. she did do that, she loved seeing the things you posted. "and there was one where your shirt was off, and i thought i would get to see people drooling over you in the comments and get all cocky because you're mine, but there were a lot of people being gross." it didn't take you any time to realize what she meant, and you just nodded a little.

"yeah, that happens all the time baby," you told her softly. she huffed then, arms tightening around you once again. "well it's bullshit, and i don't like it ," she grumbled, and you couldn't help the little laugh that escaped you. "i don't like it either princess, but it's there. it's always gonna be there, in some way or another. there's always going to be some asshole who wants to hurt people, but just because they try, that doesn't mean that they do get to hurt me. like, i'm comfortable in my own skin, and i'm doing what i love, surrounded by the people i love, and i have the most perfect girl anyone could ever ask for as my girlfriend. some losers on the internet aren't going to ruin my day by being dicks in my comments."

she was quiet for a moment after, and you simply let your fingers begin running through her hair once again. eventually though, her hand came up, tilting yours to the side to press a soft kiss against your lips. you kissed her back in an instant, lingering as long as she'd let you, but she pulled away much too soon.

"you can't ever change, okay?" she said, hand still on your cheek. "because if you change, they win, and then i'd have to beat them up. and i don't really want to go to jail, but i will." you laughed before you could stop it, and she quickly joined you, pulling you closer to her. you wrapped your arms around her completely then, rolling the two of you over so you were hovering over her. she moved with you, and once she was flat on her back, she looked up at you with such devotion in her eyes that your breath caught in your throat.

your fingers came up then, brushing her hair behind her ear gently as you looked at her. "i won't let them win, i promise. because if you do go to jail over me, i'd lose sophia's approval. and i really like being allowed over, because then i get to do this." and she seemed to read your mind because hands were cupping your face as you leaned down, pressing your lips against hers gently.

#katseye.#daniela.

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zeestarfishalien · 2 days ago

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My Graveyard Song

Chapter 15

[Hey...it's me. I'm not dead! *shows up 8+ months late with coffee from the local stand that runs off of caffeine and chaos* I am chronically slow and no im afraid it probably will not get better. We are getting closer to the end of the story. Love y'all!]

Jason takes care of the bill while Cass let's Barbara know they'll be heading her way. Danny fidgets, food forgotten in his anxiety.

He's kicking himself for not remembering about Jazz. Someone clearly important to Danny and in some sort of trouble the last time that Danny saw her. He doesn't let it slow him down and soon enough he's on his bike with Cass while Danny follows from above.

Babs, bless her soul and praise her endlessly, is all prepared with writing utensils. She has Jason’s set of programmable buttons which he just realized did not come to his place -she must have redirected it here- and the various programs she uses to find people open on her computer and ready to go.

~•~

Since Danny’s memory is vague, there are a lot of files to go through, and Barbara has given him free reign to poke around her little base of operations.

It gives him a reason to not pace. He takes an old broken laptop and starts deconstructing it meticulously. Keeping his hands busy, keeps the rest of his body still and allows his mind to run over endless possibilities without focusing too closely on the worst case scenarios.

Jason is off in the corner, helmet off, murmuring into his Red Hood phone. Danny is purposely listening to the hum of the many fans and the sound of the massive AC used to help keep the super computer cool. He really doesn't wanna eavesdrop, especially if it's about him.

The last piece comes apart in his fingers and he pauses just long enough to feel the buzz beneath his skin get louder and then promptly starts to reassemble the laptop piece by piece.

Judging by how his soul remains within his body, he's successful at distracting himself from the anxious energy.

"It's just putting it to good use," says a voice from the past. It must be something he's done before. Jazz, his mind supplies.

His hands stop.

Jazz said those words to him. He can feel the way her hair tickles his cheek as she leans over his shoulder in an effort to annoy him into listening to her. The gentle squeeze of fingers on his shoulder which contradicts her other actions.

In every inch of her body language there is, love, love, love...

A hand, gentle but less familiar, landing on his shoulder jerks him out of his head. Something wet hits his hand and he flinches, only just now realizing that it's his own tears. He's crying.

He sucks in air through his teeth harshly. The air shudders it's way back out of his body and with it bursts the dam holding back his emotions.

A sob tears its way from his throat. It physically hurts. The sob and the emotions both.

He barely notices how Jason’s attention jerks to him and the stilted words he says into the phone.

"Not them, but we are here," Cass murmurs in a low raspy voice. It's her hand on his shoulder. When she goes to remove it, Danny’s hand snaps up to stop it without thought.

Slowly he pulls her hand across his shoulder, to his face and presses his forehead to meet it part way. He probably looks pathetic like this, clinging to a near-stranger's hand and pressing the back of said hand to his face with such desperation. If he's not careful his ecto might decide that absorbing people is a great new thing to do. It certainly seems to like to do new impossible things every other week.

Or at least it used to. Before...

Will it again? Is he still the same as he was before? He's scared to change back. He's never stayed ghost and gone without air or food or water for so long.

Danny is scared.

He hiccups when Black Bat runs her fingers through his hair. They ghost along his scalp and the familiarity of it has his breath hitching into a sob.

He's a mess. His mind and body twisted and broken in ways he might never be able to repair. He's lost time, so much time... time in which anything could have happened to those he wants to protect. Those he failed to protect.

He barely realizes he's leaning into Black Bat's warmth until her arms circle him. She runs gentle hands in soothing circles along his back. She lets out a sort of chirr from the back of her throat which seems to surprise her.

He needs to know what happened to Jazz. He doesn't want to know what happened. He needs to know how long it's been. He doesn't want to know. He needs to know what's happening now. He doesn't...

His sobbing eventually peeters out into a buzzing whine from his core. Black Bat still holds him. She knows. She knows. She Knows.

She doesn't try to tell him, "It's okay," or any of the useless nonsense many people spout whenever someone around them is in tears. It helps that she knows.

He's not sure how long they stay like that, her crouched next to him, arms looped firmly around each other. Surely she's uncomfortable by now, but she shows no signs of it. He should go back home, with Jason.

(Jason is home now, what a thought that is)

However, whether he's at home or here, he'll be doing the same anxious waiting. At least here, he'll see the information as it comes in. No one can keep it from him in some effort to protect him or something.

(Call him paranoid, but he's pretty certain someone has done something similar in the past.)

His memories are still sparse and unspecific. He'd probably have to sleep in order to retrieve more and he'd really rather not. Sleep feels too much like being trapped again. He thought that was getting better back when he was still a dog, but maybe that's because he was never truly asleep. Even the thought of sleep sends hot jolts through his ice core, an uncomfortable feeling to say the least.

He's thinking too much.

Right before he moves to pull away, Black Bat relaxes her hold and makes it far easier for him to disengage. His core makes a sound not unlike a small stream running over rocks, "thank you, thank you, thank you."

She nods, and grabs the edge of her cape to send it fluttering in a way that she somehow knows conveys, "You're welcome. Safe."

He's not sure how she knows it but that's not all that important to him right now. He turns to the basket of gadgets and electronics to pick out something else to disassemble and cannibalize for parts to add to the partially assembled laptop.

~•~

Jason’s crimelord phone rings not long after they've arrived. Danny is already deconstructing a laptop in a nerve fueled fugue state. Every once in a while his edges do this sort of glitch that's more than a little concerning.

His caller ID says it's Bill. He accepts the call.

"What you got for me, Bill?"

"Ya know that insane amount of footage you asked me to look through for suspicious activity?"

Jason hums an affirmative. Danny doesn't seem to be listening in on Jason’s conversation. Good.

"Well I was startin' to think you was yanking my chain but I found somethin' you might qualify as suspicious activity. I've sent it over our server."

"What is it?"

"Some out of townie wackos takin' some weird coffin thing into the cemetery real late."

"You said they're from out of town?"

Danny’s sudden sob distracts him from the call momentarily, so his next words aren't thought through.

Cass waves Jason off. She'll handle it, she can read people and she's worked hard to learn how to put that to use helping people in distress.

"They had an armored white van, hoss," comes the reply, deadpan.

"Fair 'nough."

"Was all very villain lookin' n not the low key kind. Has a logo on the side, maybe you can clean it up n read it."

"Thanks Bill. I think this might be exactly what I was hoping to find. You can expect a nice bonus for this."

"Not a prob, boss."

Jason hung up his phone and shuffled over to the nearest device with server access. There's a series of codes and phrases he has to input before he has access to the server but once he has the file up, he sees the two clips time stamped hours apart. The first is short and shows the duo arriving in their suspicious as hell armored tank/van/motor home. It cuts off after they head into the cemetery with tools.

Jason doesn't want to see the other clip. He knows what is on there and he still doesn't want to see it. He clicks on it before he can chicken out. He watches avidly until the perps unload that horribly familiar metal contraption. It's there that his breath stops and his eyes lose focus. He double checks the date of the footage.

4 months...

Spooky, no, Danny was there 4 months before Jason died, 10 months by the time Jason was resurrected. It's been almost 6 years now...

God, Jason would have gone insane. It's a miracle that Danny is as put together as he is.

He sets his jaw before snapping a screenshot of the van and its logo. He shuffles over to Babs and passes her the tablet with the screenshot pulled up.

Jason glances up to find Danny in the middle of some sort of break down and Cass comforting him. It breaks his heart, but it's probably healthy for Danny.

She's quick to take in the new info and plugs in the tablet to her computer. She's clearing one of the screens and opening her photo cleaning program while the photo finishes uploading.

By the time the photo is cleaned and somewhat readable, Danny is back to reassembling the laptop, although Jason is fairly certain he just saw a piece of a walkie talkie go in there.

A sort of horrified fascination creeps up his spine the longer he watches Danny attach parts together that quite frankly have no physical way to attach to one another and have no business being anywhere near each other.

A tap to his side, finally pulls Jason’s attentions away from the technological abomination being built just across the room. His gaze jumps first to Babs and then, at her prompting, to one of the smaller screens.

Enlarged and cleaned up, the side of their van shows a very large stylized [f] with more letters tucked along one of the lines.

[Fenton]

Next to it, Babs had pulled up some related searches and specifically clicks on one that shows a family of four, two of whom are wearing bright jumpsuits matching the suspicious pair driving the van. The couple wearing them on this website also match the suspects from the surveillance footage in terms of body type.

Without a word, Babs highlights a specific name in the description underneath.

[Jasmine]

Specifically, Jasmine Fenton, the Fenton couple's daughter. As Jason scans the little "About" paragraph, he has to do a double take upon spotting the name, Danny. Further up their son is referenced as Daniel, but evidently he goes by Danny.

One coincidence is just that, a coincidence. Two coincidences and it's time to start looking closely.

Jason knows it's too early to assume anything, but he has a strong feeling that all answers lie with the Fentons.

Upon closer examination of Danny Fenton, he notes some similarities to Spooky Danny.

He points out the name to Babs and she quickly runs a search only to blanche at the results.

At the top of the list is an article detailing the disappearance and death of 15 year old Danny Fenton.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #my graveyard song #church grim danny #danny the black dog #danny the black dog au #church grim au #y'all when i tell you this chapter fought me...#good news i started the next chapter and its going good so far #bad news that is ZERO guarantee of anything #but as always i shall go at my own pace and drag y'all along for the ride

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mapoeggplant · 2 days ago

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skip to loafer chapter 66 analysis // spoilers

the school trip is over, but the changes are not yet: chapter 66 is full of cute moments that remind us how skip to loafer likes to treat its characters with great affection, leading them to a much brighter and gentle future.

i really love chapters like this one, where we have the famous “conversation between the girls vs conversation between the boys”. it’s very clear to me how sensei has fun using a lot of the adolescence and innocence of her characters to explore such cute and fun moments like this one, and i'm very grateful for that.

i think there is nothing better than starting the discussion by focusing on the girls! it is so good to see the four of them so comfortable with each other. this moment of them all together sharing a bed reminded me a lot of when they all went to mitsumi's hometown and gossiped all night. it is cute moments like these that we will remember forever as we grow up and lose the freedom we had when we were young, so i am very happy that they have the opportunity to experience something that they will carry inside their hearts for as long as they live.

i also really like seeing how mitsumi is gradually opening up and becoming more and more adventurous. i never would have imagined that such a responsible and rule-following girl would agree to meet her friends even after curfew. of course, it wouldn't be such a peaceful moment without the stress of finding one of the teachers on patrol, but the fact that mitsumi got carried away and ran away with the girls already shows how she has been letting herself be carried away by the lightness of life.

it's beautiful to see how they understand each other so well and are always willing to face anything together — and “together” has to be the highlighted word for this episode. just like makoto said, whether it's running through the hallways or getting scolded, what matters is that they are facing everything side by side, without leaving anyone behind.

meanwhile, in another room, shima is cornered by his friends, especially mukai, who knows exactly everything that has happened for some time now. seeing shima getting involved with mitsumi again awakens in him a concern that is both new and old: old because he has already had a similar conversation with shima and knows about all of his doubts and complex feelings; new because, for him, it is as if shima is once again getting involved in something selfishly and without thinking much about the consequences. what he did not expect is that shima has changed much more than he himself imagined.

it is very good and gratifying to see how shima has been changing so much in this last arc. he has been increasingly true to himself and increasingly builds a desire to change his own relationship with his past. in my opinion, i believe that he is not only looking for a way to forgive everything that happened to him and finally accept that he does not have to carry as much guilt as he believes, but that he also sees a new life in his future without having to be completely tied to what happened in his past. he no longer wants to hide everything that happened and wear a mask, but rather forgive what happened for the sake of a future where he can be the one he seeks to be.

and this is also reflected in the way he treats two people around him: mitsumi and his mother.

in the previous chapter, we had the chance to understand a little more about how shima understands his relationship with mitsumi and how he believes she sees/understands him. of course, there is still a very foggy barrier that makes it very difficult for him to truly understand and see everything with greater clarity, but little by little, i believe that the kindness that mitsumi sees in him will begin to be much stronger than the contempt he feels for himself, giving him the opportunity to take care of himself with more affection.

or rather: not only to himself, but also to everyone around him. and i believe that this has been happening little by little, since i see a lot of potential and growth in his plea to mukai, so that his friend will once again trust him and believe his words when he says that, from now on, he will no longer face his relationship with mitsumi with so much hesitation or fear.

now, the grand finale of this chapter, for me, involves the second person i mentioned earlier: shima finally manages to face his mother, but not in the way we readers expected. i always saw many people (myself included) expecting shima to face his mother in a much more firm and direct way, using the same aggressiveness and defensiveness that he used every time he talked to her before. i really believed that he would question everything she made him go through and would place much of the blame on her, but of course acting like that would make no sense after so many changes that shima has faced in the last few chapters.

inviting his mother to the next school festival not only shows that he is ready to start a new phase of his life with her, but it is also a way of showing her that he is much more willing to understand all of her reasons instead of questioning them aggressively. he no longer wants to keep their terrible relationship alive or point fingers, but rather to start something new and without so much pain, just like he did when he finally returned to the theater and found his passion again.

i believe that, from now on, there is a huge chance for shima's relationship with his family to improve and grow in a more positive way. i think that, in the future, we will finally have a chapter focused on his mother, where she opens her heart more to this son that she hurt so much, having a redemption arc for the sake of a healthier relationship with shima. i also think that we are close to seeing shima being even more open with little keiri, which fills my heart with joy.

and well, to finish, i think that all this change that we saw in volume 11, this hopeful beginning for volume 12 and the back cover of volume 11 being composed by chris and ririka, shows that these two will be the next people to have a greater focus, bringing even more light to shima's past and much more clarity so that he can walk towards a brighter future. this is all a guess, of course, but it would be perfect for me, since i love both of them and can’t wait to dissect them a little bit more.

well, i do believe i will talk more about chapter 66 before the release of chapter 67, but for now, that's all i have to say!!! thank you so much for reading and for having the patience with me, it means a lot 💛 don't forget to buy vol 11 and chapter 66 on comic days!!!!!

#skip to loafer #skip and loafer #shima sousuke #iwakura mitsumi #skip to loafer chapter 66 #skip to loafer spoilers #stl spoilers #skip and loafer spoilers #duckmetas

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writingtraumaforever · 1 day ago

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Hey, I was wondering what your take on shadow and sonics sexuality is? I personally see Shadow as a gay aroacesep and sonic as bisexual but I was wondering what your take on them would be! I've seen other people headconnon sonic as Trans. I love your work and writing! Keep it up! I always get so excited when i see a new work or chapter! I'm sorry about what happened with the recent news on why you don't post art. People can be cruel without meaning, too. They should have asked for your age before doing that. Just so you know, we all support you and love you! Lots of love and kudos from one of your fans!

HELLO!! First of all, thank you so much for supporting my writing! <3 and thank you for the sentiment.. it feels like a lifetime ago, but I still get my anxiety. I’m trying to slowly integrate some art here and there to fight this anxiety, though! ^^ <3

I’m much better now and safe and feel very loved. <3

As for Sonic and Shadow’s sexuality ahhh—

Okay.

For Shadow, I find it to be more of a deeply rooted sort of attraction than physical. For this reason, I see him as a bit on the asexual side. He’s not a very sexual person to begin with, but is attracted to one’s mind and thoughts and abilities and what one chooses to do with them. Once connected in that sort of way, THEN he may be more open to physical interactions. Like with Sonic, they’re connected. They understand one another. He also sees him as this inevitable good which takes him back to Maria. Sonic pushes Shadow to be better as a person and as a fighter, and so Shadow respects him deeply even if he doesn’t always admit it. All this to say— I think he’s more on the demisexual realm of things. Because even when he and Sonic start talking more and go on dates, he doesn’t inherently become attracted to him in that sort of way until they’ve been dating for some time. And then it’s like BOOM. Oh, I like him, and he likes me. We should do something about that. Shadow doesn’t let people in, so when he does it’s pretty magical.

As for Sonic??? Dude is bi. I’d even say he’s pansexual to be fair. With how many different species he’s dated/flirted with, he’s just there to connect with whomever his heart is currently leading him to and that’s FINE. I’ve seen people headcanon him as trans and I always think that’s so cute to see!!! Representation is lovely, and people being able to express themselves through their favorite fictional character is a great form of comfort. As for me? He’s not trans in my writing. Not because I don’t like it, but because I, myself, am not trans, so to write the mindset of someone who has walked that path feels hypocritical and disingenuous to me. I feel like I’m a fraud when I try to put myself in the mindset of people (especially minorities) that I’ll never truly be able to understand or experience. I wouldn’t do that journey and all the complications and mental battles that come with it justice. So I simply stay away from that sort of thing out of respect. I feel someone who can relate to it more would do a far better job of writing Sonic being trans than I ever could. <3

#my headcanon #my headcanons #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #my posts #my post #my writing #my asks #my ask box #my answers

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alwerakoo · 1 day ago

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'when I'm nothing new'

ROTTMNT Leonardo & everyone written for @nerdy-turtle-enthusiast, as part of @tmnt-secret-santa-2024 PROMPT: Getting older

AO3

A/N: I had so much fun working on this fic! Couldn't wait to share it with everyone. Happy holidays! --

There are better things he could spend his birthday doing, Leo supposes.

Like going home and actually attending the ''surprise'' party his brothers are definitely throwing him, judging by how shifty Donnie has been acting the whole week. He's never been a good lair, and he's even worse at keeping secrets – especially from Leo.

But no one said anything to him in the morning, only exchanging knowing glances, and he quickly took that chance to run.

There are places where he goes to wind down, to make his lungs fill with air, his stomach unclench.

And there are places where he goes to occupy his mind with other annoying things, to the point where he can't even remember what made him so upset in the first place. Places like Draxum's apartment.

“That's a check,” Draxum tells him.

“No, it's not,” Leo says on instinct, even before his brain winds up to find the right move.

He moves his bishop, the sudden surge of uncertainty leaving him as soon as it appeared.

Draxum's face shifts into something strange, like he's bitten into a lemon, which Leo now knows means he's trying to hide his amusement.

Draxum is still the only person he actually knows to have ever beaten him in the game, and every time Leo outsmarts him leaves him with a sudden surge of giddiness. He's also the only person willing to play with him on the regular.

He's always been more than good at chess, and it gave him a great sense of pride and probably more than a bit of a god complex. But Draxum never seemed to care about the genuine emotions that spilled out of him sometimes during the game, usually matching his intensity tenfold.

Which is one of the reasons Leo came to him this morning. There were things he never seemed to mind, like Leo's intense emotions, quiet bitterness and secret cynicism, taking everything at face value and never talking about any of it.

It's why he's not expecting him to ask.

It's Draxum he spends the whole morning with, and it's Draxum who first puts the idea in his head.

“Well,” he says, rather sudden. “You're turning twenty-five.”

Leo blinks a little.

It's not like he really expecting Draxum to fully forget, and there might've been a sting of something painful if he did. But it's nice reassurance.

“I am,” he says.

“So, are you planning on doing anything with your life?”

Leo's hand freezes, previously hovering over his queen.

He puts the finger on the piece, feeling the smooth wood under his callused skin.

“What?” He asks.

He can feel his mind ticking away, like a factory machine, trying to unwind every detail of the new conversation.

Draxum's not meeting his eyes, but he usually isn't, so that doesn't really tell him much.

“You're twenty-five, and you haven't done a thing.”

A part of Leo bristles, the part that used to take everything as a personal attack. It was something that made him rather annoying in his early twenties, and borderline unbearable in his teens.

He clenches his jaw, letting himself take a breath as Draxum knocks down his rook.

This is the part that he grew to appreciate over the years – raw and unfiltered honesty. Even, especially if, it makes him feel a little worse about himself. He needs that reality check, sometimes.

“I've done plenty,” he says, simply. “Like save the entire world. And many people.” He raises his head again to look Draxum in the eye. “Including from you, by the way.”

Draxum doesn't seem phased, which makes Leo think he might've practiced this whole conversation before. He hopes he hasn't, because that means there's a real chance of Mikey being involved, and he's already heard enough of his brother's unwanted advice to last a lifetime.

“You haven't done anything that made you happy,” Draxum says, and then leans backwards, like he's been itching to say it the whole morning.

That puts Leo's mind to a stop, for just a moment.

“I like helping people,” he defends, letting some of his old anger slip though.

Draxum moves his queen. It suddenly feels like they're playing two games at once.

“That's not the same.”

“I was happy the world didn't, you know, end.”

He sometimes still feels the weight of that "almost" in his chest and Draxum looks at him like he knows.

“Well,” he finally snaps, his voice harsh and bitter, “did wanting to kill all of humanity made you happy?”

“... No,” Draxum says, and it sounds so honest and raw it punches all the anger out of Leo.

They don't talk for a long moment.

Leo works his jaw, pushing the words in his head over and over again.

He's not wrong, is the thing. There were moments in his life where he felt happier than ever, and they rarely had anything to do with the heavy weight of a "leader" balanced on his shoulders.

He moves his knight (which he keeps calling a "horsey" out loud, only because it annoys Draxum), and says:

“I'm not unhappy.”

“I believe that.” Draxum nods.

“Did Mikey put you up to this?” Leo finally asks.

Draxum's face does a complicated thing.

“No,” he lies.

“Well,” Leo scoffs a little, looking at the board. The conversation made him distracted and he can already feel the corner he was backed into. “Tell him I'm perfectly satisfied with my life as it is.”

“Clearly you're not,” Draxum says, a little harsh. “If you were, you'd be having a birthday party right now.“ He moves a piece. “Check.”

Leo feels like someone drew a line straight through his chest.

Because there was a moment in his life where birthdays stopped feeling like laughter and presents and cake, and started to look a lot like responsibility and expectations, and he's not sure he can ever go back now.

Twenty-five is a big number.

“What I am supposed to do, then?” He asks, desperate.

It's weird, because there's a whole textbook of history between them, and he doesn't think he'll truly ever see Draxum the way Mikey sees him, but he thinks they might be friends now. And isn't that something.

“Whatever you want to,” Draxum answers, simply. “Right?”

Leo watches the board.

Then, he holds out a hand, putting a finger to his king. Slowly, he tilts it down.

“Right.”

***

Later, he comes home, gets his birthday party, and they don't talk about any of it until two weeks later.

***

When he pokes his head through the door, Mikey's sat in his hammock, legs swung over the edge.

He looks up from a sketchbook sprawled over his lap and smiles at Leo.

Leo never really grew into the habit of knocking before walking in, and Mikey was the only one of his brothers that never seemed to really mind.

“Hey, dude,” he greets and Leo walks in, closing the door behind himself.

“We gotta talk.”

Mikey's face falls, just a little. There's a line forming on his forehead that grows more and more pronounced with each year, and reminds Leo of Raph in an almost painful way.

“Okay,” he answers, very slowly. “Do I need to bring out a PowerPoint presentation for this or...?”

Leo can't really find it in himself to smile honestly, so he doesn't.

He shouldn't be angry with him.

Him and Mikey spend an awfully long time fighting in their late teens – both sick on guilt, misdirected anger and too much love. There were many things that changed after the Kraang, but out of everything, Leo regrets this one the most.

He doesn't want to waste more of his life making his little brother think he hates him.

(Even if he did, just for a short while. Mikey saved his life and Leo hated him for it.)

It took years, swallowing down their own hurt and pride, and many, many late night conversations for Leo to feel like he could breathe freely again.

Still, there was some odd comfort in knowing that Mikey would never walk on eggshells around him – laying down even the harshest truth if he didn't see any other way.

Maybe that's why it ruffled Leo so much.

That even after all that, he still couldn't face Leo himself. Not with this, apparently.

Leo sits down on Mikey's bed – the cleanest part of his entire room, probably only because it was so rarely used.

Leo still isn't sure how Mikey deals with an aching back after spending so many nights in his hammock.

“I had a very weird conversation with Draxum the other day,” he says, cutting right to the point.

He puts his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, leaning against the wall.

Mikey watches him for a moment, very carefully, his eyes bright and wide open.

“Did you?” He finally answers.

“Stop that,” Leo huffs. “I know you talked to him.”

Mikey makes a face.

“He's bad at keeping secrets,” he says, almost like an apology.

He looks back at the sketchbook on his lap, adding a few more lines with the pencil held in his hand. It's not a spiral one, and so he spread the two pages so flat it left a mark on the spine.

“The hell was that about? Since when is he a mail pigeon?”

Mikey doesn't look up, but there's something more genuinely apologetic etched onto his face, some kind of regret. Maybe embarrassment.

“I felt like you wouldn't listen if it came from us,” Mikey says, quietly.

Leo clenches his fingers, holding his thumb until it aches.

“That's not true-”

“Is it?” Mikey cuts him off, harsh.

His face quickly softens; he chews on his cheek.

Leo thinks for a moment.

“So you talked to Donnie and Raph? Is this what we do now? Talk behind each others' backs?”

“That's not-” Mikey holds a hand to his forehead, groaning. “You're doing the thing again.”

Leo stands.

He circles Mikey's room, feeling the anger buzzing under his skin. His bad knee startles in pain and he feels it up to his spine.

“Doing what?”

He doesn't want to argue.

But he hasn't been able to sleep well since his birthday – caught up in his own mind, reflections and what-if's, and he can't help blaming others for it.

Because they're right.

Draxum, Mikey, his whole family, apparently.

There are things, parts of his life he never dared to look too closely at, that they all saw right though. And that scares him to his bones.

“Damn it, Leo.”

Mikey slides to the ground, letting his sketchbook fall to the ground with the outermost carelessness. He steps closer, blocking Leo's way to stand right in front of him.

Over the years, Leo grew taller and taller, towering over most of his family.

Right now, he feels much smaller.

“This thing,” Mikey says, as a way of explanation. “Where you keep acting like we all hate you.”

He reaches out, closing his fingers around Leo's arms, shaking him a little.

It's so unexpected it almost punches a laugh out of him.

He feels like he's running backwards, grabbing onto all the old anger that's left in him instead of letting it go.

His progress is a circle and he's always running backwards.

“I'm worried,” Mikey says, quieter now. “You're-”

“What? Useless? Depressed?”

“Aimless.”

That hits Leo right in the chest.

They don't really go on missions anymore, not like they used to. Donnie called them "retired" and Leo wanted to laugh because it was true. His brothers had lives to throw themselves into, something they carved along the way. Seemingly, Leo missed his cue to do the same.

He was himself, then he threw it all away to be a leader, and now he's too scared to look. Scared he'll find nothing else left.

“You wouldn't get so defensive if you didn't agree,” Mikey says, because he's known him his entire life.

Leo feels like he's been sitting with this for months, like an open wound right in the middle of his chest, and he needed Mikey to force his chin down to finally face the fact that the pain wasn't coming from inside.

“I love you,” his brother says, like the most important part he forgot to add before. “I want you to get your shit together.”

Leo laughs, and Mikey smiles. His face always seems to fall, rather than stretch into a smile, like it wasn't made to do anything else.

“I don't know what to do,” Leo says, honestly.

“You're a smart guy,” Mikey says. “Figure it out, man.”

Leo looks at his face and wonders when he missed the moment where his brother started to look so grown-up.

***

He sits on it for the next week.

Mikey told him to 'figure it out', and he honestly, truly – tries to. But it's only a rather long and tedious call with April, many aimless walks around the Hidden City, and even more conversations with Draxum – that he comes to an idea.

It's something he latches onto from the loose suggestions thrown around him, and holds onto like a drowning man.

There's hesitation there, of course.

He's past the point of admitting his own failure, but the thought of actually picking himself back up scares him. He's grown detached from the idea of throwing himself into the deep water like this, of climbing out of the uncomfortable and cold hole he accidentally dug himself into.

'It'll take years,' a part of him says. 'You'll be thirty before you'll even get anywhere'.

'You'll be thirty anyway,' another, bigger part replies.

Past that, it's not a hard choice. He can't really imagine anything better for himself.

He loves helping people.

There's a part of him that wonders if this too is tied more to his past and how he was raised, rather than his true self. He shuts it down pretty quickly, because it doesn't really matter what finally gets him moving, as long as it does.

He lets himself chew on that thought for another week, like a hard piece of gum he can't quite swallow, before he finally sets his mind to it.

But he knows the difference between making plans in his own mind and actually putting them into practice, especially in his own case.

He needs a final push.

The door to Donnie's room is cold under his knuckles when he knocks, and it only takes his brother a second to answer it:

“If it's not a life-or-death situation, I don't wanna hear it right now.”

Leo rolls his eyes, the sudden urge to be annoying, just because he can, adding confidence to his steps. He pulls at the door, letting it open with a quiet squeak of rust.

“It's always life-or-death with me,” he says.

Donnie stops for a moment to look up from his soldering work, which can already be counted as great success.

If they were younger – fourteen and careless, where death was a thing that will one day reach everyone but them, Donnie would've said: ''And I wish you'd choose that second option more often''.

He doesn't now, because they stopped joking about those kinds of things a long time ago.

“Well, hurry up then,” he scoffs instead. “You're already bringing down the property value.”

Leo shifts in place, suddenly feeling a little smaller.

And from behind Donnie's clear, protective glasses, Leo spots the exact moment his brother squints, brows drawn into a furrow.

“What's wrong?” He asks, because he's never been good at reading people, but he's always been good at reading Leo.

It must be something in him, the things people usually don't pay attention to and that Leo doesn't bother hiding, that Donnie has grown so attune to over the years. A high pitch note that he can only notice when it skips a beat.

“Nothing,” Leo says.

Donnie frowns some more.

“Lair,” he says.

Leo has been called many things in his life. Out of all of them, this might be the truest one.

He sighs, letting his shoulders curl a little in an unusual show of vulnerability.

“I just, uhm.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I need to do some research. Thought you could help?”

Donnie's shoulder's drop, and there's an increasingly panicked look growing on his face, like he's standing on the edge of a drop, leaning in further and further, only now realizing it doesn't seem to end.

Leo doesn't blame him, because the last time he spoke almost those exact words was also the day he first came out. He's been out to his family for ten years now, but that first day has cemented itself as one of the most painfully awkward experiences of his life.

And one of the sweetest, probably.

“It's nothing like that,” he reassures, and Donnie's shoulders loosen with relief.

“Oh, okay.” But quickly there's some new worry in his eyes, something more embarrassed. “I mean, not like- If it was, it's not-”

“Look,” Leo says, sparing him from the awkward, lingering moment.

He walks up to his desk, finally letting go of the leaflet he's been squeezing in his hand and placing it in the middle of the table.

It's covering Donnie's work, which he doesn't really care for, but there's also a slight wave to it now, where the sweat from his palm leaked into the ink. He wipes his hands against his thighs, self-conscious.

Donnie stares at the paper.

He blinks before finally looking up at Leo.

“You're going to med school?”

The words leave his mouth and the air around Leo grows just a little thinner.

He laughs, nervous and without any traces of humor.

“Well, I'm not going yet. It's just- I don't know, I thought about it?”

He rubs his hands together, going back to the old habit of circling the room. He can't tell if his knee hurts, or if he just can't seem to stop clenching his muscles.

Donnie's quiet, carefully tracing the small text with his eyes. He picks the leaflet up to see better.

“Like, obviously I can't do New York Med,” Leo continues, “but there's this college in Hidden City. And it's not like we really have any, uhm, proof of education or anything, but I'm sure Big Mama can pull some strings, right?”

He turns his back on Donnie, too skittish to keep looking at him.

He walks back and forth, eyes trained on his own feet.

“So I just thought- I don't know. It says here you have to pass an exam to even get in, so it's not like that's cheating or anything.”

Donnie has always been the smartest of them, but Leo and his brothers all took to education like ducks to water, as long as it involved anything other than sitting straight in front of a desk for hours.

He doesn't think they'd do well in a normal school, not as kids, but they always seemed to soak knowledge a little faster than April, like tiny-turtle sponges, especially when it could be applied to practical use.

Leo's sure it was part of Draxum's design.

He might not be far behind Yokai his age, but there's still uncertainty curled at the bottom of his chest.

He's uncertain about everything.

“And, like, I probably won't pass it, anyway. But I thought,” he breaths, “maybe-”

“Nardo.”

Leo stops.

He feels his heartbeat in his head, beating fast behind his eyes. He blinks, turning to look at his brother.

Donnie's still holding the leaflet, absentmindedly running his finger along the edge. His face looks calm, almost neutral, but there's a new spark in his eye.

“What's after the exam?”

Leo swallows, clenching his fingers to stop his hands from shaking.

“Then it's five years of school, and then residency.”

“Okay.” Donnie nods. “Do you want me to help you study for that exam?”

It's a long moment when Leo doesn't know what to say.

“You think I can do it?” He asks, finally, his voice quiet.

Donnie looks at him like he's stupid.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Donnie holds out his arm, handing him back the leaflet. His other hand, clenched into a first, taps against his thigh, like there's some new energy in his fingers he can't quite hold in.

He's bleeding happiness, and Leo doesn't know to wrap his mind around all of it.

“You're going to be a doctor,” he says.

“Is this a question?”

Donnie reaches out to squeeze the crook of Leo's elbow; once, twice.

“No. That's a statement.”

***

He's been staring at the envelope for ten minutes now.

It's off-white, closed with an old-timey wax seal, and there's his name on it, written in a neat cursive right at the top.

He runs his thumb over the soft texture.

Him and Donnie spend a few grueling weeks almost living inside the Hidden City's library, with stacks of books piled onto desks in the most inconvenient of ways, and newly developed dust allergies.

Donnie's methods of teaching consisted mostly of borderline bullying, but it was the constant need to prove a point that pushed Leo forward – not that he was going to admit any of it out loud.

He showed up to the exam hall half-drunk on stress, desperately trying to look like someone who hasn't thrown up into a trashcan on his way there.

He found the questions tricky but not hard, which made him double guess everything over and over again, until he was probably the first one to finish, and the last one to leave.

Leaving it all behind was like weight dropping off his heart, and he feels all of it coming back now, settling behind his lunges like an avalanche.

He's bouncing his leg up and down so much his knee starts to ache.

Leo takes a breath, and with one hand – rips the envelope open.

His family's in the living room, huddled around the table for a dinner he's late to, and everyone's heads turn when he walks in.

His heart beats: once, twice, thrice. And in that rhythm, he says:

“I got in.”

***

In his first year, Leo learns a lot of things, only most of which have anything to do with medicine.

Most of his classmates are younger than him, bright with that special kind of annoying you can only be at nineteen, and Leo quickly learns to keep his distance.

His lectures feel long and exhausting, leaving his body aching after hours of sitting, and he's forced to leave the more practical classes to stretch out his bad knee – numb from standing in one place for far too long.

He thinks the faculty might know his family, or at least the reason why he was even able to apply in the first place, because there's a certain look some of his professors give him, that makes something in his stomach turn uneasy.

It's his first steps, and he's already climbing uphill.

He's so caught up in it – in desperately trying to avoid the label of a major weirdo, the constant thought of finals looming of his head, planning out his week to squeeze in as much free time as he can, that it takes him a while to realize he's planning out his week.

He's leaving the house everyday now; there's always a class to attend to, a book to pick up from the library, or something he needs to scream about on some secluded beach in Hawaii until his throat goes hoarse.

He's both more and less tired now. There's some sleep he always seems to be losing, but it doesn't settle in his bones like it used to. It doesn't cling to him like molasses, making him want to curl up on his bed until he can't get up anymore.

(He wonders if it was something other than tiredness keeping him down this whole time.)

His family is looking at him differently now.

Maybe they've been for a while. He just had too much time to dwell on himself to notice it before.

There's something in their smiles now, something hesitant but hopeful, like he's an injured bird they nursed back to health – taking flight again.

He's clumsy and slow, but he's up in the air and there's no going back.

He's moving now.

And that's a start.

***

The first exams hit him hard.

“Come on,” April says, her fingers tapping on the book's cover. “You know this.”

Leo's laying flat on the couch, his fingers locked together on his stomach, and he feels a little like he's at a therapists office.

That is, if therapists were weirdly interested in his bones, rather than feelings. Which might be true for some. Leo has never been to one.

April's sitting on the floor, her back rested against the couch, a heavy textbook spread open on her lap.

“I don't,” Leo huffs.

April seems monumentally more interested in adjusting her leggings than anything he has to say, so he waits till she looks up at him again to roll his eyes.

“You're just panicking,” she says, very matter-of-fact. “Stop winding yourself up.”

It's the kind of tone that used to keep them all in line when they were kids. It still does, to a certain point.

So Leo just wines, picking up a pillow he previously threw aside just to have something to scream into.

When he's finished, April raises an eyebrow at him.

“You're so dramatic.”

“I'm tired.”

Something genuine must've slipped into his tone, because at that, something in her face softens.

She reaches out to squeeze his good knee, before handing him some of his notes back.

“Read over it again.”

Leo studies his own handwriting.

There are so many things, so many things to remember, that he doesn't know what to put his hands into.

“This is so stupid,” he says after a minute.

April's already busy, filing down her nails with careful consideration.

“Welcome to college,” she says, holding out her hand in front of her face. “What shape should I do?”

“Almond,” he responds, automatically. Then: “How did you do this?”

April got her degree a few years back, coming out the other side with bangs under eyes, coffee jitters, and radiating happiness.

“Through sweat and tears,” she says, simply.

“What if I fail this?” He asks.

“What if?”

She doesn't turn to look at him, but raises a brow again, like she knows he's looking at her.

“I'll have to retake it,” Leo says, a little hesitant.

“Ok, you'll do that then.”

There's a kind of certainly in her voice, something stubborn and so sure of itself, Leo almost lets it quiet down the worries that have been rotting him from the inside out.

“And what if I fail again? I'll have to redo the year.”

He sounds even less sure than he'd like to, his voice quiet and mellow.

“You have all the time in the world.”

“What if I fail so much they kick me out?” He finally lets out.

It's a worry that sits heavily in his bones, the fear that he'll slip, and then all of this would've been for nothing.

“Then you'll find something else to do in your sad, little life.” She tilts her head against the couch, sending him an upside-down grin. “You're not winning this game.”

Leo lets out a shaky breath.

His chest squeezes, matching how she touched his knee just moments ago.

He might slip.

He might fail, and he might fall and never want to pick himself back up again.

It won't matter, because as sure as he breaths – there will always be someone there to catch him.

“Okay,” he says instead. “Ask me those questions again.”

April's smile widens.

Leo has a lot of things to learn. But he already knows who he can count on.

***

He feels the years pass faster now.

It might just be that he's getting older, but he feels like it's barely a blink before he's already in his third year.

It gets both harder and easier.

He's been an outsider his whole life, always either too young to understand why the world he lives in would never accept him, and just old enough to feel like he could never be a part of anything else.

But he knows the way people see him. He's cheerful and optimistic when he needs to be, charismatic to his very bones, and it doesn't take all that long for his colleagues to warm up to him.

They talk to him like they believe he should be there, like they see potential in him, and that makes him want to try harder and harder – over and over again.

And before he blinks, it's his birthday again, and there are twenty-eight candles, all awkwardly squeezed onto a cake.

Mikey baked it, and the blue frosting flowers he decorated it with look a little wonky, maybe a little worse than he would've done some years back, but so much better than anything he could've done right after Kraang. It makes Leo smile with all his teeth.

He's so occupied with all of it, with his family's arms around him, the promise of sweet taste on his tongue, loud music drumming away from the speakers – he almost forgets to make a wish.

He hesitates, for just a moment, before blowing out the candles.

More, he thinks. More of this.

A few hours later, he's sitting on a chair; feet aching from dancing and mind numb from beating Draxum in chess three times in a row. He's already on his fourth piece of cake, grateful Mikey never learned how to bake in moderation, when he feels a familiar shadow pass over.

He tilts his head back, meeting Raph's eye.

“Hey, man.”

Raph's finishing his own plate, tossing the leftovers on his plate with a fork.

“Happy birthday,” he says, not for the first time today. “How was school?”

Leo's classes were long and exhausting, made even more grueling with the promise of a warm welcome waiting for him at home.

“Ugh,” he says. “I don't wanna talk about it, it's my birthday party.”

Raph gives him an interesting smile, tilting his head a little.

“Well, okay. Raph just wanted to say...” He hesitates for a moment. “I think it's really cool you're doing it. You're gonna help a lot of people, you know?”

Leo feels his face twitch a little.

“Yeah. I mean, that was always the goal, wasn't it?” He says, and it comes out a little more honest than he intended.

Raph's face twist, like Leo just stepped on his foot but he's too polite to say anything about it.

He's still awkwardly hovering over him, which means he has something more to say. Leo doesn't rush him.

“I wanted to say...” He scrapes his fork over his plate. “I think I was too hard on you when we were younger.”

Leo blinks.

He sits straighter on the chair, turning around to look his brother properly in the eye.

Before the Kraang, him and Raph were rubber bands, high strung and waiting for the other one to finally snap. It was wanting to show each other up, and it was the rush of panic when they realized their wish might come true.

“Thanks. But maybe I needed some of that,” he says.

Leo used to think himself larger than life, like he knew some undeniable, secret truth that all of his family was too blind to see. He wishes he would've felt the cold water they were trying to throw on him before it pulled him under – right into the deep end.

“Yeah, yeah,” Raph says like he doesn't really mean it. “But I just- I was looking at some pictures and I saw some from right after Kraang and... I don't know.”

They took a lot of them during that time, like a desperate rush to never let anything slip through their fingers ever again. Leo thinks his broken bones and bruises that seem full on display on all of them, no matter how hard he was trying to hide them.

He remembers Mikey taking one of them, making him look straight into the camera despite his blackeye. Now, he thinks there was something to that.

Something like: 'despite everything, you're still here'.

Raph shuffles on his feet, his gaze turned down.

“I don't know. You were smaller than I remembered.”

Something in Leo's throat hitches.

He searches his mind for something to say.

“You were smaller than you remember, too.”

Raph's smile turns warm.

Leo knows there are things hidden under those sentences, things they need to talk about sooner than later. But for now, Raph only says:

“I'm really happy you're doing this. I mean, it's awesome,” he laughs a little. “You're awesome.”

Leo looks up at him, and just this once, lets himself grin with all he has.

He's warm, drunk on good food and good company, and when Raph goes to sit down next to him, he reaches out. He puts his arms around his brother's neck, letting his head rest against Raph's shoulder.

He feels when Raph takes a deep breath, then sighs.

The song playing in the background dwindles down, turning into something that makes April and Donnie pick up another fight.

“Hey, you know.” Raph picks up his fork again, playfully tapping it against Leo's snout. “I'm proud of you.”

Leo takes a breath, and when he breaths out, it comes out as a laugh.

“Thanks,” he says, honest and raw. “I'm proud of myself, too.”

*** When he's in his fourth year, his professor asks him what he wants to specialize in, and it's almost like making that first choice all over again.

Except this time, he doesn't hesitate for a moment.

There's confidence in him that he hasn't seen in a long time, and the world feels wide and open, everything on his way pushing him further and further along.

'I'm not unhappy', he told Draxum a long time ago.

'Are you happy now?' he asks himself every day, looking into the mirror.

Every day, the answer he gives feels a little more like the truth.

***

While he waits for the tea to boil, Leo taps his fingers on the counter.

He's been fighting hard to kick back his caffeine addiction, and it might be a battle he's losing, but he's going down with dignity. And a lot of tea.

He's thumbing through his journal, because he's the kind of person who keeps a journal now, absentmindedly memorizing the dates of his finals. It's a lot of work, commitment, and work again, but he's used to feeling busy these days.

He looks up at the sound of familiar footsteps, smiling on instinct. He's smiling a lot less than he used to, but for once – all of them are honest.

“Hey, Pops.”

His dad grumbles, rubbing his hands over his eyes, clearly not awake enough for an actual conversation yet. Leo decides to not hold that against him.

“You want some tea?” He asks instead, not waiting for an answer before reaching up for a mug.

He feels this urge more and more often now. To pass him the remote, to move his chair for him, to bring down the heavy pans he can't quite reach anymore.

He looks a little older every day, and every time Leo spots a new patch of gray fur he wants to bury himself in his arms and never let go.

“What are you doing?” Dad asks, walking up to the counter to watch Leo wash his mug under the sink.

“Tea,” Leo answers. Dad looks at him like it's too early this sort of attitude, which is probably true. He adds: “I gotta bounce by the uni later. I have to give them some papers.”

“What papers?”

Dad takes the mug out of Leo's hands, filling it with tea and hot water himself. He's been doing that more and more often, too, like he has something to prove to them now.

Leo supposes he does.

“Just for next year. We're branching out, so it's a mess all around.”

He often felt like the administration system of his university was a pure mystery to everyone involved.

Dad looks up at him, eyebrows raised a little.

“What are you 'branching out' into?”

Leo hums.

“Pediatrics.” He reaches out, pouring water into his own cup. “They have a good program here. One of my professors said-”

He stops, something on the back of his neck crawling with alarm.

He looks down. Dad's not meeting his eye anymore.

“Pops?” He says, very carefully.

He puts away his mug and his hands hover awkwardly, unsure where to lay.

His dad's hand presses against his mouth, his eyes fixed to the floor, and Leo's body tenses, like he's once again a little kid who just broke a glass – waiting for the shoe to drop.

“I'm-” Dad finally looks up at him again.

His eyes look glossy, and something in Leo staggers, like a seized engine.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

Dad shakes his head, stops, then nods, like he's correcting himself.

“Yes, yes, I just-” His shaky breath turns into a laugh.

“Dad.” Leo shifts on his feet, his fingers tapping against his thighs in a very Donnie-like gesture. “Dad, are you about to cry?”

His father laughs, waving his hand almost dismissively, but there are already tears in the corners of his eyes.

“I guess-” He sighs a little. “It just hit me now. You're- You're really doing this.”

Leo blinks.

He frowns, looks around the room like he expects to find any answers there.

“Doing what?”

“Come here.”

Leo's still frowning, but there aren't a lot of things he wouldn't do for his father. He leans down, letting Dad cradle his face in his palms.

Leo's grown so much taller than him, and everyday it hurts, just a little.

“You know, it's funny,” Dad says, very quietly. “I don't remember you growing up.”

Leo swallows.

The ties holding them together are strong, but coated in years and years of history, bitterness, and things they never said out loud.

It's melancholia, it's bitter-sweet, and it's an apology.

Leo raises his hands, covering both of his.

“My boy,” Dad says. “My baby blue.”

I love you too, Leo thinks.

***

The only good thing about his final exam, is that it is the last one he'll ever have to bare.

The whole ordeal feels more a job interview than an oral exam; unimportant inquiries about his future plans and small talk mixed with actual, medical questions. Leo gets the sense they might've been intentionally trying to throw him off, which seems a bit mean, but maybe necessary.

Waiting in the hallway for the examinators to call him back, Leo sinks into his seat, feeling the full weight of all his bones and muscles.

His family's waiting outside, and when he closes his eyes he can almost hear the hum of their nimpo, warm from the inside of his chest.

He thinks he might be nervous. But more so – he's relived.

He thinks that, for the first time, he's not afraid to fall.

This is his best.

Hope is a fragile thing and Leo's holding onto it with everything he has.

They call him back in and he's hovering in the doorway just for a moment too long, until one of the professors looks up at him.

There's a smile edging at the corners of their beak. They raise a hand to beckon Leo closer.

“Come on in, doctor.”

***

Leo can't imagine spending his birthday in any other way.

The night air feels cool and calm on his skin; his head and face warm from dancing and drinking. He's leaning back against the railing; the rooftop of April's new apartment building already familiar enough for Leo to not hesitate before he tilts his head up, balancing on the edge.

“Raphael wanted to eat the last piece of your cake.”

Leo straightens, opening his eyes to look Draxum in the face.

“Tell him to piss off, it's mine.”

“He already ate it.”

Leo's face scrunches up and he huffs.

He doesn't say anything else, but he shifts a little, because Draxum will only stay if he doesn't acknowledge his presence. He's like a cat in that regard.

The man slides next to him, resting his palms on the railing.

“How's work?” He asks, because Leo is now the type of person who's asked about his job.

With real curiosity at that, because while Leo's usual clients are rarely anything other than heartwarming, their parents have been the source of more than a few equally absurd and frustrating stories.

Even with that, he rarely complains about work.

He thinks he's actually good at it, which might be the funniest possible outcome for someone who's only previous experience with children was being one.

He's been told kids find him funny, parents 'charming', and there's a real kind of satisfaction that comes with it.

But working so closely with kids, with their bright smiles, chubby fingers, cute faces and not a single ounce of bitterness in their entire being – made him feel a whole sort of new things. Things he never thought he'd catch himself thinking.

Things that look alarmingly close to white picket fences, piles of small shoes next to the front door and the future.

Why not, he thinks to himself. Why not?

“It was fine. One kid fit an entire Lego piece up his nose.”

“Riveting.”

“You want to play chess with me later,” Leo says.

“I'll be tired.”

“That wasn't a question.”

Draxum huffs, and Leo recognizes it for the laugh it is.

“Leo!” Mikey's standing on his chair, waving at them from the other side of the roof. “Group picture time, get your ass over here!”

And so he does, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

As he tilts his head to squeeze into the frame, he takes a moment to look at his own reflection.

'Are you happy now?', he asks himself.

He hears the answer in his brother's laughter, in the soft music playing in the speakers, in the hum of an airplane passing above them.

He's only a few years past thirty, and there's already a deep ache and sadness etched into his bones – things that wouldn't seem unfit in someone much older.

The limp in his left leg won't ever go away.

But there's something in this, in getting older and older.

He was a dreamer when he was a teenager, and he dreamed of glory, blood rushing in his ears and things greater than his own life.

He's a dreamer now, and he yearns for more of this. More slow mornings, more days where he can't feel the coming cold in his bad knee, more moments where his brothers laugh like they haven't ever forgotten how to.

He's been living with a gun aimed at his head for so long he didn't even feel the cold metal on his skin until it stopped.

Leo tilts his head up, looking into the sky.

And from where he sits – the lights of the airplane almost look like stars.

#feeding yall my pediatrician leonardo propaganda #ff #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #fanfiction #leonardo tmnt #tmnt secret santa 2024 #tmnt

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gideonisms · 3 months ago

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incredibly autism take on food. love it. i am also a sensory seeking food autistic. today for dinner i requested something “garlicky and flavorful” ended up with noodles and dumplings

soups can so be flavorful but a lot of the time they’re just not like that out in the world and it’s soooo disappointing. shockingly easy to make though (onions n garlic, veg, crap ton of spices bloomed in the oil, good broth, blend, SALT)

See I would never trash talk a dumpling but once again I think they are vehicles for other flavors. In MY opinion although soups are easy to make most of them just taste like Onions and Chicken Broth to me and I'm like where is the spice where is the intrigue where is the zest for life

#idk my mom makes good chicken and dumplings. but hers are different and better #replies #another fun thing the autism does is like i will go to the store buy foods i THINK i will eat then at random my brain decides i Cannot #i buy so many salty snacks because they're the one thing i know i will eat no matter what #but as for the rest? your guess is as good as mine what foods i won't waste this week #have had a caesar salad with avocado 4 nights a week for the past few months but it is starting to lose its appeal #so now i'm like. great. i have to find something new #idk when i will just randomly find it nasty. probably soon #it happened with oatmeal which i used to eat most mornings and enjoyed and then it randomly became disgusting #shame because it was so cheap and filling :/

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fictionadventurer · 4 months ago

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Potential September Reading

The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien (ideally in audio)

An English Squire by Christabel R. Coleridge

A Sherlock Holmes story (and/or a screen adaptation)

C.S. Lewis nonfiction

A sensation or mystery novel

A piece of one of the Psmith stories

Some kind of nonfiction book

#monthly reading lists #books #a nicely restrained list #mostly made up of my strong september associations #of course it's psmith pseptember so i must read at least a chapter or two #(i know too well that i don't have the discipline to expect more but i would like a taste)#sherlock holmes audiobooks made great commute reading during several septembers and now it's a vital part of the season #(i'll prob only read one or two short stories rather than try for a whole volume)#i've vaguely been feeling i'm due for a hobbit reread for a few months #but now it hit me strongly that i must read it in audio #(if i can't find a good audio version i'll have to skip that item)#i read 'surprised by joy' one september while my sister was in ireland and i was missing it #and now it feels right especially because there's an oxford academia vibe that's great for back-to-school #i want to read some kind of female-written mystery #but yet to decide if i want victorian sensation novel or agatha christie #or if i'll just try a vaguely gothic christian novel #an english squire gets on the list thanks to thatscarletflycatcher and it just feels right to have that be my next obscure classic #i wanted something for back-to-school but i didn't know if i wanted a non-psmith school story or what #so i just went with nonfiction because it's about me learning new things #also several things that didn't make the list but may be read #i was very close to putting the tenant of wildfell hall on the list #but i don't want the pressure #if i do read it it needs to be something i'm not required to do #i will probably try to finish chesterton's 'varied types'#and prob read more emma m lion #and maybe pride and prejudice on audio?

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stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage · 2 years ago

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Okay I thought I was done but apparently I'm not. I need to talk more about this banter you can get during the Legacy DLC between Aveline and Warden Carver because it makes me want to scream.

Aveline: I'm glad you found a place with the Wardens. Carver: Well, it's not the city guard, but it'll do. Aveline: Carver... it wasn't the place for you. Carver: No, it's all right. It is. It cost a lot, but I get it. I really was a bit of a tit those days, wasn't I? Aveline: Well...

In my last post, I talked about how Aveline had no place telling the guard to refuse Carver's application, regardless of if he was "right" for the job or not. But I believe he would've made a great guard, and getting that job not only would've provided for him and his family during a desperate time, but would've prevented him from either fate of becoming a warden or a templar. He was unfairly robbed of a chance to prove himself because Aveline believed he wasn't right for the guard.

This is one of the banters I brought up but didn't go too in depth about. At this point, it's been between 3-6 years since Act 1, depending on if you decided to do Legacy in Act 2 or Act 3, and every line here is important.

Carver's response to Aveline saying she's glad he "found a place" with the wardens is so telling. Not being accepted by the guard is still on his mind after all this time. He wouldn't bring it up if it didn't still bother him, and implies that he still would've preferred the guard over the wardens.

Which... yeah. Listen, I'm a dedicated "Carver joins the Grey Warden" player. I don't like leaving him behind to become a templar, and I certainly don't like him dying. For me, the Grey Wardens are the best outcome he has. It’s where he seems the happiest and finds the most fulfilment, and it fits well with how I play my Hawke. But it obviously has some tragic issues.

Like the fact that becoming a Grey Warden only delayed his inevitable death within the Deep Roads. Eventually his Calling will come, and Carver will go back down there and fight until the darkspawn eventually kill him. I'm sure that's not traumatic to think about given he was a soldier at Ostagar and then watched Bethany die at the hands of an ogre. Oh, and there's the whole nightmares and voices thing.

Carver didn't choose this life for himself. It was either this or death, but a "what if?" still lingers in his mind about the city guard.

Something Aveline ruined for him.

And continues to ruin.

Aveline: Carver... it wasn't the place for you.

You hear that? In the distance? That's me screaming.

I must reiterate; what makes Aveline believe it's her place to tell Carver whether or not the city guard was right for him? Why did she think she should get a say in whether or not the guard takes him? What's made it HER call?

And still, after all this time has passed, she believes it wasn't right for him and she's unwilling to consider otherwise. Maker forbid she do some reflection and question if she was in the right for interfering at all, too!

Carver is standing right there before her, proving everything she said about him wrong, and she just doubles down. There's no reason to say this to him unless she's trying to remind him of his place; he's a Grey Warden, and she's Guard-Captain of Kirkwall's city guard. But c'mon, Aveline, he's hardly a threat to your precious guard anymore given the whole dedication to killing darkspawn thing he has now.

Maybe if you paid more attention to the threats within your guard, Kirkwall would be a safer place with less murder going around? Just saying!

But isn't that how it's always been? Aveline putting him in his place, making sure Carver remembers she's always outranked him?

Carver: Did you approve my application? Aveline: I can't make you a guard, Carver. Carver: We were both soldiers. Why won't they take me? Aveline: I was an officer. And I follow orders. Carver: [laughs] No you don't. Aveline: I also think of others before myself. You seem tired of that, and that's dangerous. Carver: Just when it's not my choice. You told them not to take me, didn't you? Aveline: Yes.

That he should remember who he's talking to?

Carver: I'm surprised you still travel with us, Aveline. Aveline: Carver, don't. Carver: You're ever so busy with the guardsmen. It must be a burden to slum with the refugees. Aveline: It's oddly comforting that you insult me like I'm family. Carver: That wasn't... no, I didn't mean that. Aveline: I know. But you should be glad that's how I took it.

That she's in charge?

Aveline: Your form's sloppy, Carver. Stiffen up or the darkspawn will take your blade. Carver: Right. I'll keep that in mind. Aveline: And you're angry, why? Carver: You didn't fare any better than I did the last time we faced darkspawn. Aveline: If they take your blade, people die. That's not happening again. Stiffen up. Carver: Yes ma'am.

Oh, and she used to spy on him [and Hawke].

Aveline: I don't like some of the people you've been associating with, Carver. Carver: Talk to my brother/sister. He/She's the one in charge. Aveline: Maybe, but I know you get around. This city's full of people who are dead set on ending badly. I don't want to see you end up the same way. Carver: Would asking you to stop spying on me help in the least? Aveline: No.

That's their banter.

But sure, she's glad he found a place in the wardens. I don't think she's being ingenuine when she says that, but I think it's a little more complicated than a mere "congrats on doing well, I knew you could do it."

But Carver's response? Oh Maker's ass. It actually hurts me.

Carver: No, it's all right. It is. It cost a lot, but I get it. I really was a bit of a tit those days, wasn't I? Aveline: Well...

I... what can I even say?

He accepts it, but you can tell it hurts to do so. It DID cost a lot. More than Aveline will ever understand. And it doesn't matter now! He can't become a guard now anyway, so what would be the point in him disagreeing with her? Carver acts as the bigger person here because he does get it, even if Aveline doesn't.

But it's that last part... that last damn part... Don't be alarmed, that screaming you hear is still me.

Here's the deal; Carver acknowledges that he could be an ass back in Act 1. Hell, he acknowledges it IN Act 1. For example, when you talk to him after finding your grandfather's will, he's an ass to you about Bethany no matter what you say.

But y'know what? You can be the biggest piece of shit to him and have Hawke literally call him a "lazy brat with a chip on his shoulder," and Carver will still be the one to be apologetic for what he said and attempt to explain his feelings.

"Brother/Sister... I feel... I don't know. It's like Mother taking things out on us. She was just scared. I don't have a place in the life she's trying to bring back…"

Carver can be an ass, but he's aware of that and actively tries to change his behavior. If you bring him and Fenris with you on the Mark of the Assassin DLC, there's a moment where Carver says, "You still don't like me? I've tried to change." And if you bring Varric, he once again acknowledges that he used to be an ass.

BUT... that being said. If you don't remember, "I really was a bit of a tit those days, wasn't I?" is referencing back to this conversation in the barracks of Act 1:

Hawke: This must be a very different pace from serving King Cailan. Aveline: It's just one more change, though. The real end for me was Ostagar. What about you Carver? You were there. Do you feel something similar? Carver: No. Aveline: All right, then. Bit of a tit, your brother.

Now, I've already expressed my beef with Aveline over insulting Carver in the middle of the barracks just because he doesn't agree with her view point on Ostagar... but consider the fact that Carver says nothing. He just lets her insult him without a complaint! Carver Hawke, who tends to complain! And he says nothing!

Not only that, but he actually internalized that insult enough that years later he's able to repeat it back to Aveline word for word, and all she has to say is, "Well..."

This isn't the same thing as him reflecting on his past behavior and acknowledging his flaws. This is Carver accepting a snide jab Aveline made that hurt him because apparently he was wrong for not wanting to discuss any trauma Ostagar left him with as openly as she does.

Oh, and don't forget that any other companion you brought along dogpiles on, too!

Carver: No, it's all right. It is. It cost a lot, but I get it. I really was a bit of a tit those days, wasn't I? Aveline: Well... Varric: No shit. Fenris: Insufferable. Isabela: Legendary. Anders: Maker, yes. Sebastian: I've heard as much. [If Hawke has a humorous/charming personality] Hawke: Spoiled, annoying, thick-headed, brattish little nitwit of a... oh, have we stopped?

Y'all ever wonder why he's so on edge or hostile with the other companions?

Also, I have to point out that Merrill is the only companion who doesn't say anything in agreement if she's there. In fact, across all their banter, Merrill's never been rude or insulting toward him. All she does is ask him if he's talking dirty to her and compliments him on what a great sworder he is. It's pretty obvious why Carver develops a crush on her, c'mon.

But to wrap this up-

This banter strikes a nerve due to how telling it is about both characters involved.

Carver has grown and done what he can to improve himself, but there's regret that lingers, a longing for a better life he could've had if given a chance. Maybe he would've failed, maybe he would've succeeded. But there's nothing he can do now, so he looks forward, just as he's always wanted to do. He's a damn good Grey Warden who wants to do right.

Aveline remains stagnant. She hasn't changed, nor has she improved, and maybe she would if she could figure out how to dislodge her head from her own ass. She still believes she was in the right to tell the guard not to accept Carver's application despite knowing the Hawke's were desperate and that Fereldan refugees couldn't find work. She knew Carver's a skilled soldier who fought at Ostagar just as she did. The guard wasn't the place for him so she's in the right to deny him any chance. Aveline knows best.

And y'know what, I think all I have left to say is...

Fine, Aveline. You're right. It wasn't the place for him.

Carver was too good for your city guard.

#dragon age 2 #da2 #carver hawke #aveline vallen #dragon age #aveline critical #okay i promise i'll shut up now and stop picking on aveline and find something else to talk about #even though my beef list is still incredibly long but we'll save that for another day since i'm just so salty about her right now #and i just have a lot to say about carver and how wronged he was like i know it's just a few bits of banter but put the bits together #and they tell a whole story y'know? in case it wasn't clear carver's one of my favorite characters in da2 #and so much about his banter with aveline gets to me #again it doesn't matter if you think he was right for the guard or not my point is that aveline had no right to block him #from a potentially great job ESPECIALLY after all the hawkes did for her... y'know like helping her get outta fereldan #and getting into kirkwall and helping her expose jeven for being a corrupt bastard that led to her promotion as captain #sure aveline step on everyone's backs and hands and then wonder why they aren't climbing as fast as you #carver hawke deserved better than this #aveline got an easy promotion to guard captain and a sexy new husband and never had to face real repercussions for her mistakes #and all carver got was the taint in his blood #he and merrill never even had a chance to get together and i'm not okay with that >:[

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