#this also includes splinter btw

[mikittalabs]

honestly shout out to mikey and april for being the only bitches with self-esteem in this fucking family. the rest of you? do better

[nintendont2502]

Obligatory Dirk splinter piece WIP

(+ the original sketch that I like way more lmao)

[yangcherie]

play chase

pairing: ascended!astarion / spawn!tav (reader.)

content warnings: female reader, dubcon, briefest references to age gap (c’mon, he’s 200 years old), power imbalance, forced dependency, abuse. cunnilingus. mentions of death. references to cannibalism. abuse. ascended astarion things, except he’s a bit nicer.

sypnosis: astarion has been having an immensely difficult time taming you; his newly-turned bride-to-be. he believes a lesson about obedience is well overdue. so he fucks you before the honeymoon.

author’s note: ugh. this was messy. like immensely messy im so sorry i just lost interest in this fandom but thought id still finish this up. hope you guys enjoy btw tav is feral here like Kinda i guess? ignore the plotholes or i rob ur house angry face emoji here

“Little one.” Astarion carolled, hoping he sounded just genuine enough to coax you out of wherever you’ve tucked yourself into like a feral animal. You’d catch more flies with honey than vinegar, after all. “Sweet thing. Whatever you’re playing at, it’s time to put an end to it.”

He hopes the restlessness doesn’t bleed through his voice; having walked and stalked through what felt like the very entirety of his former master’s palace – now claimed by none other than himself. It only felt right to do so after his ascension, in the same vein he claimed you as his own. The manor is a wretched thing – but so were you. He would come to love it in time; as he had with you.

He felt like a fool right now with the way he was practically just going to rot away waiting for you to either crawl out or hiding spot (which was never) or to hear you slip up, shuffle around or screech just loud enough that he could catch the sound in his fingers and hunt you down.

You’ve fallen into much troublesome, teasing habits, including hiding away from him or viciously teething and ripping at whatever caught your eye — and Astarion doesn’t have the slightest idea on why or how — but he could excuse it. Decades of cruelty have also taught him mercy, despite having lacked it.

All the furniture you would violently break apart into splinters? You must’ve been teething, and this hideous manor desperately needs a renovation, anyway. The troublesome amount of tear and rip and fray of fabric in curtains, clotheswear and sheets alike? You’re simply due for a trimming on your claws, and again, the manor needs a renovation. Your incessant disturbances of racket and noise during the occasions he’d bring nobles over? His poor, needy wife must’ve been feeling neglected – and that alone is a perfect reason for him to usher away any unwanted guests.

(It honestly did him more good than you knew.)

Astarion could not only excuse and enjoy it, all your petty, feral little acts of disobedience – but he’s also dedicated nearly half his time to provide you gratification. You needed teething? Fine, expect to be fed with ambrosian blood; be it by kegs of it at your bedside, or drunkards thrown at your feet, paralyzed with alcohol and terror, all but open for you to forcefully dig and tear out their throats and drink in their dwindling life. He’d even dab at your face with a handkerchief after.

Couldn’t control your claws? He’s provided you toys to rough up and chew into — himself included, of course; if the never-bite marks beneath his collar were anything to go by. And if you were good enough, willing to paw at and prop your chin on his clothed thigh to prettily stare at him with roseate, cherub eyes; he’d take you hunting with the given main course or prey being deers, goats or nobles who couldn’t be swayed to his upcoming reign.

And if his other efforts to be of no avail, he could always do with his last but favorite method of calming you down; exerting his dominance with his own fangs wounding the muted skin of your throat to keep you still as he gives you a good fucking – just hard enough to keep you content from acting out for the next few days.

Astarion had done his utmost to be considerate. You were a fledgling; still adjusting to the intricacies that came with your newly-gifted vampirism. He was all but destructive during his first years as a spawn, as well. He could excuse it, all this disrespect, this ingratitude to his affections. Really! It just had to be a good day.

And to the fucking Nines, today was not a good day.

Right now, he was nothing short of frustrated. Frustrated with his idiotic thralls, with having to deal with posh aristocrat fools to establish his reign over the Gate, with the fabric of his shirt – all of it! And now he has to be frustrated with you, as well? All he yearnt for was to be soothed by none other than you, but even this you would pettily keep out from his reach?

The manor is stretched far and wide, generous; much unlike the fraying thread that is his patience. He licks his teeth, brows furrowing – legs aching just the slightest. You couldn’t behave for just today, could you? Always needing to test him to keep you in line.

You could’ve simply drained and massacred the enthralled nobles in his dungeons, or lay waste to yet another room in the palace and he wouldn’t have given much of a damn, but no, instead, you’ve decided to play hard to get and hide yourself away from him when he needs you most.

“Dearest.” Astarion grits out, an exasperated groan stuck in his throat. The heel of his boots thudding against the cobble is all he’s heard for hours, in his search of you. He might just raze down the entire manor if it meant you’d come out. “I am in no mood to be entertaining your tantrums.”

A wearisome ache begins to swarm his temples, coaxing a sigh from him. He can just envision it, in whatever hole you’ve tucked yourself in lays the ripped ivory tulle fabric of yet another gown alongside the vast amount you’ve already ravaged. It’s all you’ve been tearing at since he’s arranged your bethrothment with him – and his enthralled tailors aren’t very willing to oblige him and sew another.

He swears on the fucking ragdoll he will make out of you once he finds you that this time, you will not go unpunished. He has been lenient, and he was no fool; he could tell instinct and intent apart. Whatever game you were playing at, Astarion would let you know he didn’t like it in the slightest. First, you deny him of your presence and then you deny him of his right to wed you. What a little demon you are.

But it seems even you were getting restless in your own petty little game, he thought so smugly, as a hiss so unmistakably yours laden with offense and the impact of ceramic against the ground bounced off the opulent hallway making him sharply turn his body around to follow the sound. You never quite had the knack to keep quiet as a rogue like himself could, even before the feral inanity that clouds you now. It’s not long before he’s behind yet another bedroom out of hundreds in the palace and twisting the rusted doorknob.

It creaks open, Astarion pursing his lips as he steps inside – just to be hit with the pungent stench of blood and a mess littered that told him you indeed were in the room. A good hint; the hint being a gutted body of what he could only assume was a servant crumpled on the floor, who with no doubt you hurled actoss the room once you had forcefully drained your fill of.

His nose wrinkled at the sight. He ought to teach you something about manners on not playing with your food, after he catches you.

“Little pup?” He stalks through the room, briefly kicking the body aside and glancing at the two puncture holes on its neck. If you were hungry, you simply could’ve asked.

It’s a dreary scene, the room a relic of neglect worth centuries. Moth-eaten curtains spotted with fresh blood, rusted chandeliers rickety with dust. Dreary as it was, he had no doubt this is one of the rooms he’s used to bed many a victim.

He briefly wonders if you even bedded the servant before draining him.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are...”

There’s a subtle shuffle, a little, pathetic bleat of a hiss to his call, just below the old, yellowed canopy bed in the very center of the room. The space between his brows pinch as he approaches the dingy canopy and drops to his knees to peer below, batting at the dust that assaults his senses.

Craning his neck downwards, peering below the bed, he’s fixed with your beady, red stare – and it startles Astarion more than he’d like to admit.

Something weary between a growl and a sigh comes out of him when he wills himself to tear his gaze away from your unnerving eyes and across the entirety of your body; you’re filthy, with flaky remains of gore and scratches, cobwebs stuck to your hair and soot stuck to your skin. He quietly groans, filled with just enough irritation that your beady eyes bat him a blink so innocent and faultless that he’s rather tempted to bend you over his lap and paddle you —

But it was futile to scold you. He knows it, that you wouldn’t understand – had made sure your senses would dwindle, like a honed knife being whittled to dullness. Slowly but surely being to forced to rely on base instincts. He always thought you to be too smart for your own good, and he couldn’t have you thinking you could leave him in the dust, no, no.

(And, well, if you ever did, he doubt the ghouls that follow his word like law would let you through any door out, anyway.)

Futile as it is it to scold you, it’s easier to let his irritation roll over him in waves sear him like boiling water.

“You insolent brat, you.” Astarion hisses, batting his hand in a motion that tells you to get out and up. It’s with an infuriating obedience that you follow, one that casts something bitter to brew in him. Where was that earlier? He roughly wrenches you out by your wrist, dragging you up to your feet to meet his infuriated eyes. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you, you fucking–?”

You hiss at the touch, nose scrunched and teeth bared enough to show gums – your free hand flying out to grip his wrist to dig your untrimmed nails into his skin just as he did with you. He raises a brow, unamused. Perhaps he should have felt offended the way you thought you could just behave like an animal and disrespect him like that. Perhaps he really should go and dig the heel in, let you sink in the fall from pride to humiliation of being paddled.

“You think you’re hilarious, hm? Quit acting like an animal.” Astarion huffs indignantly, disregarding a small part of him wanting to croon at you in the same manner one would with a feral thing. You need discipline and gods damn him if he did not provide that. He wrenches his wrist out of your clawed fingers, glaring. If you were some stranger, he’d feel inclined to spit on you. “Or I’ll drain you like one.”

It’s a lie, a petty one at that, and you seem to know it as it only pulls another one of those sounds out you; one more grating and animalistic than the last, one that makes him bare his own teeth at you. The threat is as petty as it is tragic, a reminder of what you’ve given up to him beyond your blood – your soul, your mortality.

He’s had his fill of you since the night you turned, since he sunk his teeth into the very marrow of your being and drained you for all you were worth. He swallowed you with a hunger that could burn out even the sun itself. You could not believe that on that night, the night he had killed you, the soft, benign hands keeping your head from hitting the hard floor were of the same body with the mouth and teeth that snuffed your light straight out.

(You died being held in his arms; whether it was to keep you still, keep you there unable to jerk away from death or to keep you comforted, you never found out. You didn’t want to.)

When you awoke, it was no longer his teeth that speared through you next but loss and hunger, a mind-numbing, mingling pit in your stomach. You woke up with grief knowing you were no longer who you once were.

Astarion has an intimate relationship with hunger, true and daunting hunger. And no nobles’ blood, no sheep, bear, boar nor lamb can fix it.

It will not leave him, and it will not leave you.

“I’ll have you know you look delectable right now.” He hisses through his teeth, something burning all hot, ugly and hungry in his stomach. It’s the way he says it that has you backing down, meeting his eyes with a glare of your own before tentatively softening; allowing him to touch you. In a time before now, he would have said it teasingly, as your lover, your man. Near a warm fire, pinned to the ground with your hair splayed and a summer solstice grin.

But now, he is more hunger than man.

(You suppose you are too.)

He stares you down, the dip of your collarbones, the slope of your hips, the slightest cinch of your waist, your lips, all doused in some servant’s blood. The scent of it with yours wafts out and beckons to him. Spanning his fingers over the stiffened slopes of your bare shoulders, he finds the knots he’ll have to work and ease over with floral oils later on during bedtime.

In your feral head, it feels as if he’s fondling the meat on your shoulder. Prodding at the softest spots, finding which would taste best.

His fingers leave your shoulder in favor of returning to your wrist, pulling taut at it to lead you out the dryrotting room and into those intricate halls, turning left, right, right, left, straight until you’re stumbling into his personal chambers, his soft canopy bed and sinking into his mattress with enough space between your parted legs that he takes the chance to crawl towards and tuck himself in.

He pushes his lips to yours, kisses you dizzy, tongue fighting a battle with yours. The bed is downy soft beneath you when you melt into it and dig your nails in, heeded by instinct as he pins you against them with ease. The air feels hotter, when he pulls away with silken strands of spit between you two, splitting when he dips back downwards to lay his head on your stomach, circling his arms around your hips to keep you still as he noses around the softness of your stomach.

“Stay still.” He rasps, throaty enough you feel inclined to begrudingly listen and settle down with a growl stuck behind your teeth. “This is just something to make you relax.”

It’s not entirely a lie, he thinks to himself. Nowadays, he only ever beds you if he sees you need to be put into your place or to be sedated. You’re not exactly as smart as you used to be.

He kisses his way down; trails little licks and bites over your stomach, lowering to the jolting of your hips, to the swell of your thighs. Moves a hand to fondle your calves and returning it to join the arms still locked around your hips, using his head to gently nudge your legs a bit wider and teeth to lift up the chiffon dress pillowing around your legs, lingering on your calf; to settle his lips on your clothed mound.

A protestant, breathy noise comes out of you when his mouth ghosts your clothed clit, and he grumbles at it; tugging at the flimsy fabric until it delicately finds its place on the floor.

The cold, dusty, evening air wraps around your clit, the muscles in your legs tightening with the amount of whatever strength you have to use to avoid clamping around his head when he kisses it briefly but so sweetly that an uneasy expression makes home on your face.

A dreadful shiver shoots an arrow straight through your spine then, when that one intimate kiss at your bundle of nerves turns into two, then three, until all that fight and spark in you has been stomped out and worn out into the dirt. Despite that senseless fog that clouds your head, you remain soft and still, legs open and unclamping around his head with the indomitable fear he’d do something less... gratifying than this.

That kiss turns into stripe licked up your clit, a shaky breath forced out of you once again. He gently pulls you closer, just a breathswidth from your fluttering entrance.

You wonder if he feels the way you stiffen under his hands, if he mistakes the way your hips rock as wanting more instead of trying to run away.

“Be good,” he murmurs, breath hot and voice lazy. “and everything else will follow...”

A spawn’s desire to follow their master is something even the likes of you cannot help but submit to, and so with a rough grunt, you finally let loose your tense muscles just enough to let Astarion pull you gently down, to fully ease you on his mouth — so he can really give you that relaxation.

He runs the tip of his tongue over your clit, laving around it and allowing himself a lazy glance up when you abruptly sit up and thread a hand through his hair, chest stuck in a growling air you struggle to take in. Rough as it is, it also sounds lewd – and it’s music pretty enough that he hums and closes his eyes shut, rewarding you with flicks and sucks on the sensitive little thing that only makes you tighten your grip around his perfect curls and dig into his scalp.

A moan can’t be stopped from slithering its way out your mouth, your shoulders working itself lower and the crease between your eyebrows letting up. He wasn’t lying, it feels good, you begrudingly think and huffing in an effort to hide your moan and keep the current of anger from diminishing under pleasure. You find it easy to keep grappling onto it when you feel him crookededly smile against the flesh of you, as if the idea of you adamantly resisting was theatrical and hilarious.

His tongue leaves your clit, delving into your hole and squirming against your walls in a way that has your ears ringing, hand still in his hair. Your eyes shut tight.

You hate him, you think. Hate how he makes you feel this way, makes you feel so alive despite being anything but. And you especially hate yourself for the sharp heat that tugs at your stomach, a thinly-veiled frenzy arching over you.

Ever since the undeath of you, you’ve lacked control; and it’s no easy feat to defy the oncoming slaught of pleasure about to wash over you. Not when his tongue laves around your slick clit in such a way that it makes you throw your head back and dig your heels into his back. So with a moan caged low behind your throat, you convulse, coming in his mouth when you wished for anything but.

“See what being good gets you?” He pulls away and coos at you with his teeth and lips shining, savoring you as if you were just the sweetest pomegranate out there. Your chest heaves as you come down from the high, so weakly throwing him a glare that attests to your damaged pride.

Your eyes flicker around his face and his hands, expecting him to move back and let up, having had his fill of you. But he doesn’t move back, no, he stays smiling at you, lets himself be busied by the frantic pattern of rise and fall by your chest — by the fact you breathe by habit even when you no longer need to.

Your throat bobs; his eyes are quick to narrow and trace the movement.

“You,” you rasp, you speak, the conciousness you fight to grapple on a rope so quickly fraying. Astarion’s smile stretches into a mean, mean grin that makes your skin crawl. “You’re done.”

Your head tricks you into thinking you lack the breath to make the questioning lilt in your words, so it comes out as a demand. One you’re not very sure he takes to kindly.

“Adorable!” He giggles, tapping the tip of your nose. “Silly. No, we aren’t.”

“And you,” Astarion coos again, meaner, reaching out with slick fingers to dig into your cheeks whilst ignoring your flinch and bared teeth. He squeezes your face and patronizingly moves it around as if afflicted with cuteness aggression, like an owner unable to believe his pet wants him to stop giving it pets. “You don’t get to make the demands around here. I–”

He pulls your face closer, his breath fanning your face.

“I do.” He snarls. You give him one back twice as malicious, sharp fingers flying to grip the hand that holds your face captive. “I make the fucking demands around here and you– you listen, and you do what I tell you to do because I—”

He inhales a sharp intake of breath, the fingers on your face digging in just further enough it starts to hurt.

“Honestly, dear.” He laughs like the idea of you having command over him is the funniest thing in the world, but the sound is so taut and forced. A display of theatrics. “If there’s anyone out here worth listening to, it’s me!”

Astarion doesn’t let go much to your dismay, watching you so keenly, drinking in your pain – and you start to hiss when his fingers don’t cease the tightening grip on your face, forcing you back into that instinctive, protective shell. It’s all a blur when you plant your two feet on his chest and kicking him with all your force, knocking him back just a mere distance away, still on the bed but further. He merely scoffs, moreso annoyed than pained, quick to get back on his knees and crawling towards you yet again. His hands grip the comforter, fingertips digging into the softness as he grits his teeth.

“No– no, no, don’t you dare.” Astarion brattily tugs at you, like you’re his favorite toy, until you’re situated beneath him once more, scratching and squirming about. “You will not not run away from me!”

“Not when I’ve been so kind to you,” he spat. It’s between a grit and tease when he says it, and now that he’s between your legs again, he grinds his clothed hips against your cunt. “And I’ve been busy making dresses for you, you know, when really I should be making leashes.”

He offhandedly mentions with a sneer and as if to help visualize the collar, his strong hand goes to wrap around your throat – squeezing just hard enough your breath leaves you all at once. Your mouth gapes open then, floundering to claw at his wrist.

“What do you think?” Astarion laughs, mean, mean, mean. Another hand goes to unbuckle his belt, the leather of his pants sliding off and making brief but chilling contact with your thighs. “Would you prefer it with a chain?”

Black dots around the edges of your vision, with the hand on your throat and the dwindling air in your chest, you cannot muster any disapproving sound to his words – and as if to punish you for your silence, he tightens his grip until you’re sure that the skin would be bruised purple and pretty underneath for days. And he watches you, like you’re some form of entertainment, floundering and wincing about for merciful air, distracted enough you don’t notice the heat of his cockhead pressing against your pulsing opening.

Distracted enough you don’t notice with how you’re squirming about for air, you’re grinding yourself against his cockhead.

You can’t breathe.

You can’t breathe.

Whilst you’re busy thinking if this is it, this is the fucking end of it all; you’ll be found dead on the master’s bed in the morning, indecent, monstrous even without a stake in your heart but with blue and purple around your neck instead, Astarion’s attention was charmed like a moth to flame with how you don’t seem to notice you’re still so alive despite having sunken his teeth into your neck and given you his blood.

How you don’t seem to notice that in being undead, you do not even need to breathe anymore. How still you look for the air even unneeded.

Entertained, Astarion hums and releases your throat, settling his hands on your knees as he watches you sputter and cough as the air hits you like debris. The pain in your chest as you take in the missing air is pure catharsis.

“Yes...” He whispers moreso to himself than you, nudging his cockhead against your opening – slick with his spit. “Perhaps a chain would look better than jewelry.”

And with that, he pushes into you with a low hiss, moving slowly enough that you feel the veins and the pulsing of him even as you focus on gasping for air, the pit in your stomach dreadful and the crawl up your spine pleasured. When it feels like he’s snug inside your guts all buried inside, he leans forward and catches your lips into a terribly one-sided kiss. It makes his cock nudge further inside and you flinch from the dull, familiar ache of it all.

“Fuck,” Astarion gasps hot against your mouth and pulls away with a string of spit, slowly dragging his hips and pulling back to watch his length move out your cunt. He slams it back in and you want to shriek but you bite your tongue instead, hating how he deep he is inside of you and how slow he is ��� like he’s trying to get your walls to take his shape. “—I wish you were always this good for me, little mouse.”

Pleasure is so cruel to you, bowing heavy against your spine as it forces you to arch, forces your legs to spread and take in his cock deeper. Something groaning guttural crawls its way out your throat as you clench your eyes tight and twist the sheets in your fist as you’re thrown gracelessly into the ever-tightening jaw of ecstasy. Your legs shake with a tremor to it, feeling his hand ghost over your hip.

He pulls back again; and slams back inside. Over and over and over again until you feel like you’re turning mad yet again, sweat beading at your forehead and sounds not so easily beckoned now tumbling out your mouth.

You once foolishly thought that with being undead comes the death of sensation in your body – the way your body flinches and burns so alive with every strong nudge of his cockhead into you just proves you so wrong. Sparks fly across your body like rocks trying to make fire when with every collision of his hips against yours, the base of his cock grinds so deliciously against your sensitive, reddened clit.

One particularly rough slam of his hips has you keening; the soft curls on his base bumping your bundle of nerves in a way that has you keening into him, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him down, closer and closer until you feel so utterly consumed by him in the same way you did that wretched night.

Another sound, one so feral and from the heart is forced out of you when his hips stutter teasingly, a moan so out of place from a voice unused and locked away when your stomach all but tightens when that thrust forces your hole to slacken and his cock to nudge at something so soft and delicate inside your walls. And you shriek like a murdered woman when he laughs so mean and thrusts even meaner.

He continues to thrust, thrust and thrust like some bully to that one little spongy spot, groaning st your little moan-shrieks. Your mouth stretches into a scowl as your teeth mash together in an effort to sweat through the pure pleasure that swarms your head and makes you see dots, only vaguely aware of the slick foam that runs down your thighs. All purely and humilatingly your arousal.

“A-Astarion,” You raspily grit out, locking your bruised knees around his hips and feeling a pleasant soreness bloom amongst yours when he gives you a response by driving in harder, tracing your throat as you throw your head back. “Astarion.”

Smooth fingers trace your neck before running up your cheek, dragging at the chub of it until your lips are apart and no longer are you scowling nor your teeth gnawing. “What?” Astarion murmurs, slurred and drunkenly kissing away the sweat that’s gathered like freshwater rain on your throat.

You open your eyes, blinking away the sting of tears and sweat mingling – and Astarion looks so godsent, romantic with his own teeth gritted and sweat down his arms as he piledrives into you.

You won’t last – you feel it the way your body is twitching with the exhaustion it takes to build up an orgasm, core burning even with the friction of slick inside. Astarion doesn’t need to be told, so very familiar with your body even in its death; so he dutifully lifts a hand from your hip and gently snakes it towards the in-between, towards your warm pussy until he finds your sensitive little button, circling the pulsing bud immediately and fondly laughing when your legs uncoil around his hips, and you shriek, squirming like you’re about to get murdered a second time. Your mind is fucking melting.

“Astarion,” you choke out, again, this time, more desperately, hand flinging out to grip at his wrist between your legs. His thrusting stutters as your voice breaks and your pretty eyes roll behind your head. “Y-you’re gonna fucking kill me, oh—”

“Don’t be a c-coward, darling.” Astarion is breathless, brows furrowing. He’s close too.

You pant.

You’re about to pop at the seams.

Your tongue lolls with every breath that heaves your chest, the ring of your entrance so tight around his cock as your body trembles with every feverish snap of hips and rub of his fingers against your red, abused bundle of nerves. The sound of slick flesh on flesh so obscene, you feel your body trembling as you throw your head back to the undercurrent of an orgasm — so strong it has white flashing hot behind your eyelids and a final, ragged whimper coming from you.

It only takes a few moments for him to catch up, his hips chasing your clenching as he throbs, pulsing once, twice against your walls until he’s spilling into them with his own warmth, contentedly sighing into the crook of your neck whilst you wince and whine lowly with satisfaction.

You both stay there, unmoving, until the warm semen that runs down your thighs turns cold enough that Astarion feels he should move, slipping out your hole and letting his member hit the cold air as he hisses, sensitive. And apparently, you’re rudely startled awake out of your pliancy with the sound, tensing up like you’re about to run again. He notices before you can and kisses you stupid, lips smacking noisily with yours in a way teasing lovers would do so, before pulling away with a grin and setting you still on the bed with the weight of a blanket on you.

“Oh, no, no, none of that tonight.” You try to wrack a hiss out your scratchy throat – but it comes out as a humiliatingly feeble cough. Astarion, endeared, smiles at it and pecks your forehead, bringing the blanket up to your chin by habit as he once used to when you were sleeping in tents, under nights and by fires. “You’re always running away, you little hellion, you.”

He’s tucking you in.

He’s tucking you in.

He’s an asshole, you think. He must be teasing you. With being undead comes the inability to sleep a wink – only being able to go as far as meditation. And by the gods, you do not want to be stuck thinking of how you just let the man you despise drive his cock and seed into you – and how he’ll do it over and over again if it means you’ll stop acting out for a night or two.

Astarion eyes you, giving you a once-over as if to size up if you’d take your chances and run away. You don’t budge, narrowing your heavy eyes at him and blinking blearily, shifting in the sheets, unwilling to admit to yourself how you like the molten warmth you feel when he looks at you attentively, the warmth that runs down your inner thigh and the warmth of the blankets tucked so nicely around you. He smiles again, smoothing a hand over your hair and lowly murmuring something about cleaning you up later at night where you’re more awake and hopefully, preferably not a bat hanging off the ceiling staring at him with beady eyes.

He hums then – reassured, standing up from the bed with a creak and reaching into the drawer beside his bed for a flimsy pair of thin, reading glasses he wears.

“Be good, and stay here, okay?” He lowly coos, like a husband leaving for war wishing his ill wife goodbye, walking towards the old mahogany door and twisting the knob open. You twist your fingers and clench your eyes shut, enraged and fulfilled all the same. “I’ll see you later, I have work to do, sewing your wedding dress and all.”

The door closes, gently, and you turn to bite the pillow and scream into it.

[tizeline]

Oh boy, at this point I feel that the truth is gonna chew Mikey hard after discovering they are actually the bad guys. Side note: I know Raph and Mikey are gonna struggle at first to accept the truth and even more to accept that Splinter and April aren't evil… but when and how is gonna Mikey really START to accept this? because I feel theres more chances with Raph than with Mikey

Okay, so this is what I've worked out so far regarding Mikey's redemption arc-

Like in canon, after the season 1 finale and Draxum gets fucked up by The Dark Armor and then also becomes wanted in The Hidden City, he (plus his kids) ends up finding and settling down in that apartment in April's building (the idea of them accidentally becoming April's neighbours is hilarious so I'm keeping that lmao). Then Leo enters his Rebellious Teen Arc and runs off to hang out with Donnie and April most of the time, eventually he's joined by Raph too so then it's mostly just Mikey and Draxum brooding in their apartment all day. It's during this time that Draxum spends some time self-reflecting and eventually decides to abandon their plans of world domination, much to Mikey's dismay who is still very much in the mood to end humanity.

It's hard pinpointing an exact starting point of Mikey realizing that he's been in the wrong, deep down I think he already know this, but he'll be damned if he actually aknowledges it. But it's around this part of the story that things start turning around for Mikey. Because when Draxum announces that it's over and they're done with trying to take over the world, Mikey gets pretty pissed about it and decides that he's ALSO gonna go all Rebellious Teenager on them all! See how they like THAT! BTW Mikey's "Rebellious" Teen Arc mostly includes him spending more time sulking outside than in the apartment as he previously did, and acting a bit more cranky towards Draxum, but he still returns home at a reasonable time in the evening and in general doesn't do anything he isn't allowed to do. He's not very good at being a bad kid haha. (If anything, Draxum thinks it's good that Mikey spends some time outside)

I've mentioned before that I like the idea of introducing Mondo Gecko and Woody Dirkins into the story and that they could help him in his character development and expand his world view (also godammit Mikey needs some friends aside from his brothers) So anyway, it's when Mikey starts spending time outside on his own that he meets and, after some time, befriends both of them. I don't have the details figured out here, but I'm thinking that he first gets to know Mondo considering he's a yōkai/mutant (haven't decided which). Mondo would already be friends with Woody which is how Mikey later meets him, when Mondo introduces them to each other. Mikey is obviously Skeptical at first, but Woody gives him free pizza so Mikey is all like "okay, maybe he sucks slightly less than other humans". All of this is to say, Woody is probably what leads to Mikey actually confronting the fact that he MIGHT be wrong about some things.

It's still very much a gradual change. It's around the end of season 2 that the Draxum family all reconcile with each other, and while Mikey is still not very fond of the Hamatos (especially Donnie lol) or humans, he doesn't wish for their demise anymore. Then it's some time after the events of the movie that Mikey fully commits himself to not judge people merely on them being humans or yōkai.

[bluepeachstudios]

Did you read the 40th anniversary rottmnt comic? Cuz I was abt to say smth but I didn't wanna spoil ya

God I did. All of the comics in the 40th anniversary were SO good, I especially loved the 2003 one. Splinter's just boasting about his kids. Also he threw Ch'rell through a window which feels like retribution for throwing Leo through a window. (ALSO HOW IS CH'RELL BACK A G A I N ???)

AND GOD THE REVEAL AT THE BEGINNING THAT RONIN IS FROM MIRAGE. AUGH. OUCHIE.

Anyway. Yes. Rise.

I was. Immediately thinking about Ghost FHGDKHG as I am wont to do. Just. Agh. Splinter died when the kids were still pretty young! They didn't look much older than they do in the show. I think it's hilarious that Draxum moved in with them though that's great hfgkdhgkd.

But jeez, Ghost with this heavy despair at watching someone who is not his dad but kind of is die. And then being hit with the "btw you have a brother and sister byeeee" he's so ANGRY. Like not only did Splinter NEVER TELL GHOST THIS, BUT ALSO. ALSO. SPLINTER DOES THIS AS HE'S DYING.

He's so angry. And in that first version, Leo's not there! So Ghost isn't even-- he's still trying to FIND LEO!!

Ough I kinda wanna write a one-shot for it but I would have to include a lot of post-GitS stuff that would be major spoilers for many things, and also some stuff is still up in the air about the movie so it would be hmmmm.

I have a complicated thought-process when it comes to GitS.

Anyway things other than the obvious that I yelled about in the Rise Comic;

RENET MENTION!!! SHE'S BEEN HELPING MIKEY WITH MYSTICISM! Is she still a time traveling lady?? Or is she just a very mystic person??? WHO KNOWS. I'M EXCITED.

Frida design reveal !!! I LOVE HER. I wonder who the brother is, considering iirc the original idea was for two sisters, and the second one would have been in "dimension x" for a long time.

I HOPE... I hope it's Kirby hgdkghdk I would also be fine with an entirely new turtle tbh I love turtles.

Yes anyway I have many thoughts. Many, many, many thoughts.

[decepti-thots]

while i'm talking about Whirl, one thing i've been meaning to talk about for ages just in a 'i am aware some people may not actually know this, and it hardly gets mentioned in fandom' is that Whirl in Interiors talking about briefly trying to change his name when he was a flight instructor at the flight academy is a reference to a passage in Bullets, which is in retrospect very obviously him:

Jetstream had taught him to recognize his inherent worthlessness. In front of the other cadets he'd always been supportive, but in private he would berate him for showing off and for getting ideas above his station. “You think you're something special?” he used to say. “You think you’re better than the rest, better than me, just because you can turn a few tricks? On a good day - on your best day - I’d say you were unremarkable.” Rotorstorm’s only response to Jetstream’s verbal abuse was to make jokes. If you can make light of the situation, he'd think, it can’t be as bad as it seems. Over time, Jetstream’s verbal abuse... evolved. On one occasion, Rotorstorm was pushed against a wall. On another, he was punched to the floor. Before long, he was on the receiving end of sustained and entirely unprovoked beatings. The worst day of Rotorstorm’s life - worse than the day war was declared; worse than the day of the Simanzi Massacre - was the day the IAA installed a Cryogenic Regeneration Chamber. He couldn't remember what he’d done to deserve that night's battering, but as he lay on the floor of the aircraft hangar, his torso freshly pummeled, his spinal strut bent at a right angle and his face reduced to a shallow bowl of oil and splinters, he saw something he would never forget: Jetstream was standing over him, fists clenched and head cocked, coolly appraising his options. And the look of exhilaration on his face as he wondered where to place the next punch had been terrifying. Rotorstorm had passed out before Jetstream had finished shoveling him into the CR Chamber, and had woken up the next day without a single scratch on his body. Jetstream had left overnight; he moved to a training facility in another province and later changed his name. Since then, Rotorstorm had seen him only once: he'd been sitting in the front row when Rotorstorm had been awarded the Novic Medal for Outstanding Valor, and he’d been clapping and cheering more loudly than anyone else.

and this is a really fascinating thing to consider for me because if you just describe the whole thing briefly in the abstract, it's gonna likely sound like one of two things:

whirl tried to turn over a new leaf with a new name, and it worked for a time but ultimately he couldn't and went back to his old life

whirl tried to turn over a new leaf with a new name, but he couldn't and was just as much of an aggro wildcard as ever so gave up

but this is... kind of not either of those, including the last one? whirl IS acting like the violent, bitter, unpredictable asshole we come to meet in MTMTE and know he was during the war, to an extent, but he's also clearly succesfully keeping up something of a facade of really inhabiting that 'not Whirl, nope, i'm a Normal Flight Instructor' in public. it's only to rotorstorm he's not, seemingly. (and even then, the way rotorstorm describes him here is... really cold and deliberate in a way that feels kind of different to what we see later.)

obviously it's. i mean it's SO deeply unpleasant, very effectively communicated in terms of how awful and traumatising that kind of thing is btw a+ but also Jesus Fucking Christ, but it also suggests to me a very specific experience Whirl is having in this period of his life that isn't quite either of those obvious choices. pokes at it. god. what the fuck is going through your head you terrible helicopter you.

[kestrel-bee]

So I bought the Kindle version of the anniversary comic, and got to read Farewell (I really need to learn more about the other iterations so I can appreciate those comics too ;-;)

And I’m just gonna dump my reactions here underneath the cut, heavy spoiler warnings btw

WAIT WAIT WAIT, so this comic’s future is taking place in the good-timeline? That’s interesting, I assumed that Leo from the bad timeline was going to pop in, this makes more sense though!

I also find it interesting that Raph apparently loses an arm and an eye somewhere in the good timeline, I wonder how that happened :0

AAAAAAA SHE HAS AN OFFICIAL DESIGN :D

Definitely need to draw Frida sometime (isn’t that what Ron Corcillo said her name could possibly be? Idk, I’m sticking with it until it’s confirmed otherwise)

Todd being included in saying goodbye to Splinter is so funny to me for some reason, like is Todd considered a family member? The Todd lore thickens

Okay I know I should be sad along with them and I genuinely am but

This is such a Rise Splinter thing to do as he dies, and I’m cackling

ALSO, he said brother! I knew there were two lost siblings, but I assumed they were both girls! So, new information we as a fandom can toy with lol

WAIT WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?? ANDY WHY ARE YOU TEASING US

[khalliys]

Of course, the time she wasn't there wasn't insignificant! But it's far away from what a lot of people make it out to be. This is aimed at the crowd who says that Yasha constantly disappeared on them, mostly without a word and that you'd never know when she'd be there or not and that's ... just not true.

She willingly left them only 3 times and just 1 was without a word. That's such a small number in comparison to what it's often made out to be! And all of them were super early on. The last time she willingly left them was roughly 6 weeks after they first met!

Don't get me wrong, I care a lot about what she did alone, and especially how she did in those 6 weeks that she was alone after Molly's death, like. Yasha had just endured a week getting tortured, witnessing her friends getting tortured and then wakes up to the grave of her best friend who got murdered - in some way because of her. That's some severely fucked up shit and she decided to work through all that alone and without help, not dissimilarly to how she was on her own after Zuala got murdered :(

But when we go back to the sum of all of Yasha's absences, there's also a bit of complicated time fuckery involved here that leads to Yasha being separated from the rest for longer than the others were separated from Yasha, because of the Happy Fun Ball. If the timeline in the wiki is right, then the two times the party was in the HFB without Yasha add up to maybe 3 days for them, but translate to 36 days in the real world, 31 of which while she was with Obann. So while Obann had her for about 8 weeks (since they also traversed planes, who knows how long it was for her exactly), for the rest of the Nein it was 4 weeks. It complicated.

Yasha Disappearances Timeline

Probably has been done before, but if then I haven’t come across it yet. Initially I was just curious about the time span between episode 92 and 126 (Spoiler, it’s been a bit over 2 months and also interesting: the M9 visited Kamordah only 9 days after Yasha was freed from Obann’s control). But because I’ve always wanted to put numbers to it – feeling like Yasha disappearing gets exaggeraded a lot more than it actually happened, probably because Ashley was gone a lot more than Yasha and she barely got mentioned when she was with the group as an NPC – I just went and got some rough dates from the Time Line page on the Critical Role Wiki. 

It’s definitely not 100% accurate, because the Time Line doesn’t seem to be 100% accurate and I just roughly skimmed through episode wikis. But it’s accurate enough and dates might be off for only like a day or two.

16 Sydenstar 835

Episode 1. The Mighty Nein meet. At the end of the episode Yasha disappears, trying to escape from the Crownsguards.

19 Sydenstar 835

Episode 4. After killing the fiendish toad Kylre, Yasha is brought along to the groups trial. She reveals she had been captured immediately after trying to escape from the guards and had been in jail since.

- Yasha returns after being kind of accidentally gone for about 3 days.

20 Sydenstar 835

Episode 4. The group heads off to Zadash. Yasha declines to come along right away because she feels like she can’t leave until she’s told she can. She tells them she’ll meet up with them in Zadash.

25 Sydenstar 835

Episode 9. The group takes a bath at the Steam’s Respite in Zadash where they find Yasha already in the bath with her sword.

- Yasha returns after being away from the group for about 5 days.

26 Sydenstar 835

Episode 11. The Mighty Nein take a rest at the Evening Nip. A storm is raging as they go to sleep and Beau and Jester find Yasha fixated on it. The next morning they find her gone.

29 Sydenstar 835

Episode 14. When the group enters the lair of The Gentleman in the Evening Nip, Yasha follows right behind them.

- Yasha returns after being away from the group for about 3 days.

18 Fessuran 835

Episode 25. At the end of the episode Yasha, along with Fjord and Jester, get kidnapped by the Iron Shepherds.

25 Fessuran 835

Episode 29. Yasha, Fjord and Jester are rescued by the rest of the Nein.

- Yasha has been unwillingly gone for 7 days, but remains unconscious when they find her.

27 Fessuran 835

Episode 30. Yasha has been unconscious for about 2 - 3 days and awakes when the group pauses at Molly’s grave. After learning what happend to him and screaming out in agony, lightning starts flashing at the horizont. Yasha walks towards the storm and tells the group she will find them when she is ready.

- This is the last time Yasha willingly leaves the group.

13 Cuersaar 385

Episode 34. Yasha finds the rest of the group unintentionally at the Wayfarer’s Cove. She’s aloof and tells them she has to go somewhere, looking for passage over the water, because she had dreams of islands. She nevertheless stays with the group.

- Yasha returns after being away from the group for about 42 days.

[Bonus:

14 Duscar 835

Episode 45. Yasha does not disappear – but everyone else does and gets sucked into the Happy Fun Ball.

20 Duscar 835

Episode 46. The group returns from The Happy Fun Ball and learns that about 6 days have passed in real time. They head for breakfast without waking Yasha, who meets them later disgruntled and upset. While the others were stuck in the Happy Fun Ball Yasha was left wondering whether her friends had died or just left because they didn’t want her to be part of the group anymore.

- For once the group disappeared on Yasha – for 6 days. ]

13 Misuthar 836

Episode 69. The Mighty Nein fight Obann and The Laughing Hand in a lost tomb outside of Bazzoxan. It appears that they manage to kill Obann, but as he dies he gets Yasha under his control. Fully aware, but unable to control her body she can only watch herself turn against her friends who narrowly escape the tomb without her.

13 Thunsheer 836

Episode 86. While fighting against her friends and almost killing Beau in the Chantry of the Dawn, Caduceus manages to break the spell that kept Yasha under Obann’s control.

- Yasha was unwillingly separated from the group for 59 days.

In conclusion:

Yasha has has left the group a total of 6 times. (1 time the group left her, accidentally.)

Only 2 of those times has she been gone for longer than a week (42 days and 59 days).

Of the 2 times she was gone for an extended period of time only 1 was voluntarily (after Molly’s death).

3 of all her disappearances were by choice (Episode 4, Episode 11, Episode 30)

She willingly left the group without a word only 1 time (Episode 11).

The time between the first meeting and Yasha getting freed from Obann’s control spans about 8 months.

Out of these 235 days Yasha was separated from the group a total amount of 125 days, including the 6 days the rest was trapped in the Happy Fun Ball.

75 of those days were not by her own choice.

[possessivesuffix]

My latest in trawling thru semi-random comparative etymological dictionaries: Hudson (1989) on Highland East Cushitic. He gets together 767 reconstructions, a decent amount on a group of relatively little-studied languages. A nice chunk of vocabulary can be reconstructed especially for the major crop of the area, the enset tree (*weesa), its parts (e.g. *hoga 'leaf', *kʼaantʼe 'fibre', *kʼalima 'seed pod', *mareero 'pith', *waasa 'enset food') and tools for processing it (*meeta 'scraping board', *sissa 'bamboo scraper).

There surely has to be material among the reconstructions though that represent newer spread, most clearly the names of a few post-Columbian-exchange foodstuffs: *bakʼollo 'maize', *kʼaaria 'green chili' — same terms also e.g. in Amharic: bäqollo, qariya (Hudson kindly provides Amharic and Oromo equivalents copiously). (Note btw a vowel nativization rule appearing in these: Amharic a → HEC aa, but ä /ɐ/ → HEC a [a~ɐ~ə], as if undoing the common Ethiosemitic shift *aa *a > a ä.) Slightly suspicious are also a few names of trade items and cultural vocabulary / Wanderwörter like *gaanjibelo 'ginger', *loome 'lemon' (at least the latter could be again plausibly fairly recent loans from Amharic lome) but these could well have reached southern Ethiopia even already in antiquity.

In terms of root structure, interesting are two monoconsonantal roots: *r- 'thing, thingy, thingamajig' (segmentable from a diminutive *r-iččo and from Sidamo ra) and *y- 'to say'. Otherwise verb roots are the usual Cushitic *CV(C)C-, clusters limited to geminates and sonorant + obstruent; with several derivative extensions such as *-is- reflexive, *-aɗ- causative. *ɗ actually occurs almost solely in the last, I would suspect it's from one of the well-attested dental stops *t / *d / *tʼ with post-tonic lenition. Long vowels also seem to occur fairly freely in the root syllable with even several "superheavy" roots like *aanš- 'to wash', *feenkʼ- 'to shell legumes', *iibb- 'to be hot', *maass-aɗ- 'to bless', *uuntʼ- 'to beg'; *boowwa 'valley', *čʼeemma 'laziness', *doobbe 'nettle', *leemma 'bamboo', *mooyyee 'mortar'… A ban on CCC consonant clusters does seem to hold however, apparently demonstrated by *moočča ~ *mooyča 'prey animal', which probably comes from an earlier *moo- + the deminutive suffix *-iččV; resulting **mooyčča would have to be shortened in some way, either by degemination or by dropping *-y-.

In V2 and later positions there seems to be morphological conditioning of vowel length, cf. e.g. *arraab- 'to lick' : *arrab-o 'tongue'; *indidd- 'to shed tears' : *indiidd-o 'tear' (and not **arraabo, **indiddo). And as in these examples, also many basic nouns appear to be simple "thematizations" of verbs, similarly e.g. *buur- 'to anoint, smear', *buur-o 'butter'; *fool- 'to breathe', *fool-e 'breath'; *kʼiid- 'to cool', *kʼiid-a 'cold (of weather)'; *reh- 'to die', *reh-o 'death'. I don't actually see a ton of logic to what the "nominalizing vowel" ends up being though and maybe it's sometimes an original part of the stem, not a suffix. Quite a lot of unanalyzable nouns on the other hand are actually fairly long, e.g. *finitʼara 'splinter', *hurbaata 'dinner', *kʼorranda 'crow', *kʼurtʼumʔe 'fish', *tʼulunka '(finger)nail'.

Further phonologically interesting features include apparently a triple contrast between *Rˀ (glottalized resonants) and both *Rʔ and *ʔR clusters [edit: no, it's just very inconsistent transcription]; also ejective *pʼ is established even though plain *p is not (that has presumably become *f).

Lastly here's a some etyma I've found casually amusing:

*bob- 'to smell bad': take note, any Roberts planning on travelling to southern Ethiopia

*buna 'coffee': yes yes, this is the part of the world where you cannot assume 'coffee' will look anything like kafe

*mana 'man': second-best probably-coincidence in the data

*raar- 'to shout, scream' 🦖 [and looks like maybe a variant of *aar- 'to be angry?]

*sano 'nose': "clearly must be" cognate with PIE *nas- with metathesis :^>

*ufuuf- 'to blow on fire', oh yeah I've needed that verb sometimes

*waʔa 'water': Cushitic With British Characteristics

[thedawningofthehour]

If the fam wake up one day and sudently none of them can remembered their names, what names do you think they would suggest? They are not allowed to name themselves, but they can name others. Draxum is also included btw.

I mean, their colors? Splinter would probably just default to that. Draxum would probably have cringe mythological names ready for them, Norse or otherwise. Like how Bella is named after the Roman goddess of war. (her parents let Drax name her since he invented the process that allowed her to exist in the first place-his first choice, Khutulun, was rejected for obvious reasons)

[hyperfixated-homo]

CAN I HAVE MORE INFO ON MIKEY AND LEO’S EXPERIENCES

I love Mikey’s trope being the last girl standing and psychological horror is very yummy

HIHIHIHIHI yes absolutely you can have more info on their experiences :)

I do not want to spoil too much about the actual events that they go through (unless people ask. smile) but i can give some little bits of their stories!

For Mikey (the final girl ever)

He and Raph are the only two who fully remember their respective genres' experiences. However, they did also go through very different experiences

All of them went through multiple different "storylines" but Mikey and Donnie go through an entire universe reset when their storyline restarts (in comparison, Leo and Raph go through multiple storylines in the same universe with the same people)

This means that Mikey has seen multiple alternate universes! He's seen several versions of his friends, several versions of killers, he's seen dystopian worlds and older ones and he's been in a million different places.

He would appreciate it more if he wasn't being chased down in every universe. And every time, he feels a bit upset that his brothers aren't with him, because he knows that they would probably LOVE to see some of the things he's seen

Mikey was the one who triggered the leave sequence. Technically, he was the one who let them out.

As mentioned before, Mikey has made friends in his genre-verse! I'm considering adding both some mutants and humans from other tmnt versions to this au, and most of them will be seen in Mikey's universe probably.

Including: Mondo gecko, Leatherhead, Mona Lisa, and more :))

Mikey went into his universe when he was 11. He came out at age 13, freshly a teenager. Since he was so young, this experience has SEVERLY impacted how he thinks about things

For Leo (my beloved little fucked up boy)

Most of his time in his universe was spent in the "lair", practically being tortured mentally.

He remembers some of it, doesn't remember other parts, completely makes up some things, and generally has weird memories about That Whole Situation.

There were moments when Leo would get to another place. Sometimes it was unrecognisable, but usually, it was familiar. Familiar but twisted

Like an abandoned (?) park at night, or a rooftop that he and his brothers used to frequent often, or a pool that he haden't been to in a while.

He really hated going to these places. Often because he would end up there alone (not entirely. never entirely. there were other things there watching him he swears) and sometimes it felt like days before he could see his "family" again.

With this in mind, the Leo that came out of his genreverse doesn't like to go outside much. ESPECIALLY not alone.

Also more general things: "Splinter" and "April" are in his genre too. They're less fucked up than his brothers but. Definately not normal.

Leo gains some new fears after living there for two years. A fear of heights and a fear of the dark being two of them.

Sometimes he would enter The Void as a means of escaping his problems. He could never stay there long (his brothers would never let him) but it helped sometimes. He goes back there nowadays, when everything reminds him too much of There

This ended up being more general headcanons about them, sorry ansdjd. I ADORE questions about my horror au btw, so MUCH THANK for asking!!!

[its-wabby-stuff]

[@distinguished-turtle-enjoyer ]

ummm so like,,, hiiiii i would love to hear more about ur separated au btw 🥺🥺

also sorry for yelling in the tags sjbdjdbdjdbnd i didnt really realise that i had caps on until it was too late sksnjdbdjbdnd

So this made me incredibly happy, ngl, and really really made my day. So I took some extra time to sorta- make turtle designs. And colored them for funsies.

Including a human Don design!!

I had to test out my new iPad with something.

But there’s more. Here are some bits of the story I guess:

- Don lied about his age when getting into school so he could be in the same grade as April. He’s intelligent enough to pass.

- Don is in the robotics club and April plays softball

- When Don used the ancestry test to discover Splinter was indeed his father, he also discovered the traces of Japanese DNA. It encouraged him to learn Japanese.

- Humoring the idea of Don finding, developing, or being given one of those transformation gems.

- When Spike first met Don, he thought he was a human

- Spike does not know about the other turtles, Draxum never told him about the others.

- Don keeps his headphones on around school, working in his lab, and when he’s trying to sound out the world, so pretty much all the time. He wore glasses until he started going to school.

- Spike is really close with Hunnin and Muggin. They like to play with the turtle when he isn’t training with Draxum.

- Mikey will work at the foot shack, mostly in the backrooms.

- Mikey does graffiti art in his spare time, often Cass will join him as a body guard, but sometimes he gets Cass to make something too.

- Cass likes drawing nature.

- Mikey and Cass once took a camping trip that ended up starting a mild wild fire and they weren’t allowed back

- Cassandra has only her father, but he’s rarely home.

- Mikey does graffiti in the sewers sometimes.

- Spike and Prince rule the hidden city while Mikey and Don blend into the upper city.

- Don, April, Prince, Mikey and Cass are all Jupiter Jim and Lou Jitsu fans. Having seen the movies and read the comics.

- Spike is a Lou Jitsu fan, but only from the stories he’s heard from Draxum and the footage of his time in the Battle Nexus, along with what he knows about his creation.

- Spike often went out with Draxum around the hidden city.

- Spike tends to speak in the third person

- Don and Splinter are actually pretty loaded. Between Splinters Lou Jitsu funds and Dons underground selling of his technology, the two get by quite well.

- Prince has a slight accent gathered from Big Mama. He likes it, thinks it makes him sound devilishly charming.

- Prince loves the celebrity life, and it really gets to his head that he has a superiority complex, believing he is better than everyone.

- Despite the adoring fans, Prince doesn’t really feel like he has any real friends. He finds Don’s abrupt attitude rather refreshing.

Part One:

[chromatic-lamina]

for the "end of the year content meme" !

📝 a line or paragraph i’m really happy with 😡 a paragraph/section that gave me a lot of trouble

thought i'd give you both ends of the spectrum there XD ♥

I just answered the first one for @bnessz <3. But it's okay. I've got more than one story! Hope you're having a good holiday season, Gen!

📝 a line or paragraph i’m really happy with:

From the same fic, valuta:

Law's mother folded his fingers around the coin—a piece of copper, not worth much, except for the fortuitous square hole in the middle. "Keep hold of that," she said. He'd unfurled his fingers and she turned the coin in his palm. Streaks like whitebait flitting upstream hadn't marred his skin yet. "It'll help you focus." Lifting the coin and peering through the square, she blinked against the room's light.

I like the whitebait line. I debated including or cutting it so many times. I'm glad I kept it. That whole Law section isn't in the zine, btw, and maybe for the better. I dunno, story might be a bit busy with his scenes, but I like it.

😡 a paragraph/section that gave me a lot of trouble Also from the same fic (to tell the truth, I don't think I wrote so much last year! [that I can remember]):

Maybe all of this, but especially entering the hovel (although the image of extract the pouch with the coin in it from a splintered, rotted door frame was strong in my mind):

A beetle scuttled across the greenery away from the shadow of the small body falling to the lawn. Granules of dirt and blades of grass pushed into Rosinante's mouth as a human smashed a staff across his back. He needed one of those bubble helmets to help with breathing more than anything, but they'd left them all at home. They'd never used them anyway. But maybe if they had, his throat wouldn't be a mess of snot and bile and salt. A bone cracked, arm or skull, not his own. Doflamingo's howls and curses punctuated the dull lift and fall of a body kicked for sport. After they'd paid the price for stealing bread, the brothers limped home, Doflamingo's good arm slung around Rosinante's shoulder. Rosinante's hand slipped on the doorknob. Rancid air rushed to meet Doflamingo's angry breath, wet against his brother's neck, as they stepped inside their hovel. Shaking, Rosinante paused by the entrance to pull a moth-eaten pouch from a splintered recess. Sleep would ease his brother's bruises and tremors; turning the coin, would ease his own.

It still needs some work. Ahahahaha.

After sales for the zine still open, for anyone interested!

And anyone interested in the meme, here's the link!

[crowsandturtlesandbatsohmy]

Rottmnt: Mikey, April, Splinter, and Cassandra

2012: Raph and Casey

Haikyuu: Okiawa, Kuroo, nishinoya, and Hinata

(For the bingo game!)

[I hope you’re having a great day Crow!]

Hi Moo! I am! I hope you are too :)

Putting it under the cut because this got kinda long XD

TMNT:

MIKEY

I love Mikey, this version of him especially, but I find I tend to like him best as part of a duo (be that PB&J, Portal Pals/Tide Pod, or Sunrise Crew)

APRIL

I adore Rise!April. She’s amazing and I love her. That said, she would absolutely intimidate me with her chaos at first XD

SPLINTER

I think Splinter is villainized a lot in the fandom. I can’t say I love Splinter, but I don’t not like him either. He’s a complicated character and I think he deserves to be treated as such.

CASS

I love Cass. Cass is hilarious XD That’s pretty much all there is to it.

2012 RAPH

I love 2012 Raph! He isn’t my favorite Raph ever, but he’s pretty close. I think a lot of the fans are too hard on him and his anger issues though. He is trying, and siblings aren’t all sunshine and rainbows. Especially when one of them has a hero complex paired with self-sacrificial tendencies, another who when he isn’t walking into trouble deliberately pushes your buttons because he thinks it’s funny, and the last one is a shut-in who’s obsessed with the only human girl you’ve ever met and also he constantly talks over your head.

I just think the fandom should cut Raph a little slack, y’know?

(I’m skipping Casey because I haven’t actually met him yet. I’ve read a lot of analyses on the 2012 turtles though and I am mostly through season 1)

HAIKYU:

OIKAWA

Okay, explanation about Oikawa’s markings. Oikawa seems to be largely treated by the fandom as the surface-level facade he uses: a pretty-boy. And he’s so much more than that! He’s incredibly driven and resilient, he’s very smart on and off the volleyball court, he’s perceptive, and he’s an uncle who takes lots of pictures of his nephew. He’s also snarky, a bit of a jerk, a very sore loser, and he struggles with his self-worth. But the thing I think gets overlooked the most and that I really love about him is the fact that he’s a friend. Look me in the eyes and tell me Iwaizumi would’ve stuck around if Oikawa didn’t behave like a real friend to him, if he wasn’t there when Iwa needed him. Iwa’s a smart guy and he knows his own worth. If Oikawa didn’t act like a friend when it counted, Iwa would be gone.

As far as him not getting enough screen time goes, it’s only in reference to season 4. I would like to see his reaction to the Inarizaki match.

KUROO

So I just got through the two Nekoma episodes (so far they’re my favorite episodes of the season btw) and I love Kuroo. I liked Kuroo okay before, but I love him now. Kuroo is a sweetheart and he cares so much about Kenma. Their friendship is adorable. I feel like he very often gets reduced to another good-looking face by the fandom though, and that’s sad. I’d love to see more talk about how he seems to step into an older brother/best friend role for Kenma! Also I love his dynamic with Yaku XD Their arguments are hilarious!

NISHINOYA

Okay first of all Moo thank you so much for including my boy.

The only things I really feel like I need to explain are the top left two boxes. “If he was real I would be afraid of him” - He’s extremely extroverted and chaotic and hyper and he’s always yelling. And he’s intimidating while doing so! The way he carries himself and his posture when he’s snapping at someone speak very clearly to me of “I can kick your butt if I need to” and I believe it. After I got to know him though we’d get along great. “If he was real I’d marry him” - I’d marry time-skip Noya in a heartbeat if he was real. I think our personalities would compliment each other nicely. I’m quiet and scared of people, he’s a chatterbox. I have a hard time standing up for myself, and he’s ready to throw hands whenever need be. He’s forgetful and spontaneous, I have a mom-friend override for responsibility and I’m flexible. We’re both feelers instead of thinkers. We’re both adventurous (to varying degrees), we’re both chaotic (to varying degrees), and we’re both physically affectionate. Plus we’re both short so getting items off the top shelf at the store would be hilarious, and I think he’d give great hugs and I want a Noya hug. Also, to be honest, he seems like someone I could be best friends with while being married to him.

Am I somewhat embarrassed to admit I’d marry time-skip Noya? Yeah. A bit. But that’s okay :) I’m cringe, but I’m free!

HINATA

I love Hinata dearly. He’s very precious to me. There just aren’t enough positive boxes that I think fit him! He’s a very deep character canonically, he has all the screen time, and the fans are usually nice enough to him. I don’t relate to him enough to project onto him. But I love Hinata so so much, he’s an absolute sweetheart and he’s perfect as the main character of Haikyu.

Thanks for asking, Moo!

[fixfoxnox]

🥺👉👈

Drabble of all versions of Roach meeting?

(without major spoilers of your other unrevealed Roach AUs of course)

This probably isn't great, but its so hard to try to differentiate between like 7 different versions of the same character sssjjsjs

Also this isn't all the Roach's, just for my own sanity. The Roach's included are:

SiTO Roach (our "normal" Roach)

Ultranationalist Roach

Letters AU Roach

Monster AU Roach

Dragon AU Roach

Anima Au Roach

Honeysuckle and Citrus Roach

Uhhh, yeah, have fun with this (I did not proofread btw):

Roach had never seen the cave before. That was what had tempted him inside. 

He’d been roaming the woods around their castle for years now, years of getting to know the area where Soap and Ghost hunted for their food, getting to know where the best foragables could be found, getting to know the way the rivers ran and all the secrets that the forest held for him to learn. He knew the area like the back of his hand and yet he’d never seen this cave. 

That was what had drawn him inside. That was why, even as the cave went deeper and darker he continued to follow it. Something was drawing him in, tempting him further into a cave with a siren song that he couldn’t hear, only feel. It wasn’t until he was long into the cave that he began to see light again. It was a warm glowing yellow light that cast long shadows along the wall and only grew brighter and brighter the further Roach came to it. 

Eventually, he found himself emerging into a large room in the cave. To his surprise, there was only one thing in the room. Sitting in the center of the room was what appeared to be a large crystal of some sort and, to his surprise and confusion, the light seemed to emerge from the rock in a way that he’d never seen before and, though something in his gut told him that he should leave it, he found himself slowly making his way toward it, drawn in by its light. 

He drew closer and closer, its warmth pulling him in and calming any of the worries that were brought to his mind. He moved closer and closer, as though in a trance. He couldn’t pull himself away and, as he finally stopped in front of the crystal, he found his hand moving on its own, reaching out to feel the smoothness of the crystal under his hands. 

As soon as his hand met the cool crystal, it began to crack. Large splinters formed in the smooth surface, resounding snaps filling the room. Roach stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet until he tumbled to the ground. The crystal fell away and an odd orange mist began to surround him, covering his entire body slowly until he could see nothing, the world was completely surrounded by the mist. 

It had been a, thankfully, normal day for Roach and the team. A fully calm day where they could all rest in one of the little rec rooms on base and just enjoy the other’s presence. Or, at least, that was what they’d thought. Of course, the universe could never make things that easy for them. 

The mist started seeping into the room through the door and, based on the color, Roach and the others all ended up on the same page. Tear gas. They were all quick to cover their mouths, trying to move as far away from the spread of the mist as possible. It did nothing as soon the mist had filled the room, blocking their vision. Despite the fact that they were all surrounded by the odd yellow light, they weren’t choking. Whatever it was that had filled the room, it wasn’t tear gas. 

Just as soon as the mist had arrived, it disappeared, moving as though sucked straight out of the room. What was left in its wake was a sight that had Roach’s mouth dropping open, confusion and something akin to horror filling him quickly. Left in the wake of the gas were six men, each of whom looked almost exactly like him. 

“What the fuck,” he muttered out, his voice high and squeaky. 

The words caught the attention of the man closest to him, this one in older-style clothing with a cloak thrown over himself. He let out a loud shriek upon spotting him, popping up to his feet to start backing away. He didn’t make it far as he was quick to trip over another one of the men, this one dressed in a way that Roach could only describe as slutty. 

He crashed to the floor on top of the other man, but was quickly shoved off, “Watch it!” He paused then, getting a good look at the man who’d crashed into him, “Wait what the fuck!”

His shout drew the attention of all of the other men and soon the room was descending into chaos. Roach just stood by the other members of the 141, at a loss for what to do other than to just watch the chaos unfolding in front of him. 

“This is a dream right?” Soap muttered from next to him, “One of those really fun dreams that I have on occasion.” 

“I don’t think so,” he muttered, his face heating up slightly at the implication that his boyfriend had dreamed about there being multiple of him before. “Hey,” he started nervously, trying to catch the attention of the room. It didn’t work, the different versions of him, that's all he could imagine that they were, didn’t pay him any mind. They just continued to argue. “Hey!” he tried again. Still nothing. Finally, he shouted as loud as he could, “Hey!” That caught the attention of all of them and he quickly found himself with several eyes on him. “Okay,” he started carefully, “Let’s try to calm down and figure this out.”

“This is so cool!” 

“We’re in an alternate universe with no idea of how we’re going to get back to our own,” the Roach in the rather nice business casual gave a roll of his eyes, “Exactly how is that cool?”

“Uh, because it is?” This Roach was much more excitable and even the glares he was getting from a few of his counterparts didn’t stop him from bouncing in place excitedly, “Just because you guys are too lame to realize that doesn’t mean I am!” He turned to the other members of the 141 who’d taken to awkwardly sitting with the large group of Roachs, “Isn’t this cool guys?” 

“It’s…something,” Gaz responded nervously.

“So what do we do?” The other Roach in more dated clothing asked, “Do we just sit here and wait for something to happen?”

“I imagine,” Roach started carefully, shifting in his seat, “That there's like a timer on this? Surely after a certain amount of time you’ll all just,” he waved his hand nervously, “go back to your own universes.”

“I vote that we talk about our different lives,” The excitable one gave a mischievous grin and met the raised eyebrows from the other versions of himself. “Oh c’mon, you guys can’t tell me you aren’t curious!” 

“I’m curious,” Soap raised his hand slightly. 

“Ha!” The other Roach pointed at him excitedly before lowering his eyes and batting his lashes at him, “I knew you’d agree with me.” Roach rolled his eyes but bit down a laugh when his boyfriend went a bit red. 

“I suppose that there’s not anything wrong with us sharing,” he gave a sigh, “I mean we’re from different universes. So it’s not like we can mess shit up for each other.” 

“Yes!” The excitable man was quick to point to the version of himself dressed a bit more nicely, “You go first!”

“What,” he reeled back, “Why me? You’re the one who wants to share!”

“Yeah, but you’re lame so your universe is probably lame too!” 

“Fuck you?” 

“Just share,” the Roach dressed in all black motioned forward, “No need to argue. Tell us about your,” he paused and motioned up and down to him, “business world or whatever.” 

The other Roach gave a glare and a huff, but didn’t argue much more. He gave a quick shrug, “What do I even say, uhh,” he paused for a moment, “I don’t know, I’m not on your little team,” he motioned toward Roach and the 141. “I’m a weapons dealer in Al Mazrah, though Jackson and I have been discussing expanding the business.”

“You’re a what?” Ghost questioned, leaning forward with wide eyes. 

The other Roach gave a small snort, “That’s how my Ghost reacted when he found out too,” he gave a low chuckle, “Guess it’s not every day you find out your mate’s a crime boss.”

Roach tilted his head and shared a short glance with another one of the Roachs, “Mate?” His words were hesitant. He wasn’t quite sure if he was going to want the answer to this. 

That Roach looked around the group for several moments before giving a small groan, “You guys don’t have mates? I knew you all smelled weird.”

“I have mates, though mine isn’t Ghost,” one of the other Roachs raised his hand slowly, “technically not Ghost,” he corrected.

“Yours isn’t Ghost?” 

“Hey,” the Roach in all black waved his hand, “Focus up, what the fuck do you mean he’s your mate?”

“Oh, this is going to be really hard to explain. So in my universe, we have these things called secondary genders-”

“That was quite possibly the most horrifying thing I’ve ever heard,” Soap gave a shudder. He pointed at the Roach with the collar on and asked, “Your universe is like that too?”

“No,” he tilted his head, “I mean things work similarly for me and you in that universe, but that’s because we’re werewolves, not just because.” 

“We’re what?”

“Okay, I think he should go next,” the Roach in all black pointed to him. 

“I agree.”

“Same here.”

“Wait,” Gaz waved his hands and pointed at the Roach who’d just explained his universe, “This is getting confusing so I’m going to call you Criminal Roach from now on.”

“What the fuck?”

“And you,” he pointed to the one with the collar, “Even though you haven’t gone yet, you’re werewolf Roach now.”

“Cool!” Werewolf Roach gave him a smile. “Okay, um so, what should I tell you guys?” He paused for a moment, “Well I guess I should say that I am on the 141 in my world. Like I mentioned, I’m a werewolf and Soap is too. We’re a mated pair-”

“You’re with Soap?” Criminal Roach sounded shocked.

“And Ghost too,” Werewolf Roach continued with a wave of his hand. “But anyways, we brought Ghost into our relationship because I liked him, he’s pretty cool. Vampire-demon hybrid and all.”

“What the fuck,” Ghost muttered from next to him. He couldn’t help but agree. What the fuck.

“Um,” Werewolf Roach paused, “Oh uh, you,” he pointed to Price, “are a reaper in my world, and you,” he pointed to Gaz, “are a nymph. You guys are pretty cool! Uh, yeah, I think that’s it!”

“If you’re a werewolf,” the excitable man tilted his head, “Isn’t the collar kinda…I don’t know, demeaning?”

Werewolf Roach waved him off, “No, it’s like a kink thing for werewolves.” 

“Okay,” Price clapped his hands awkwardly, “I say we move forward.”

“Agreed,” Roach could feel his face burning a bright red, “Are any more of you guys like,” he waved his hands, “Not human?”

The excitable one raised his hand, “Well I mean sorta me?”

“The fuck do you mean by sorta?” Criminal Roach asked with a raised brow.

“Okay, I’ll just go,” he waved his hands excitedly. “Okay so in my universe, we have these things called Anima, which is what I am! Basically, we’re like born attached to a specific person and our job is to protect them. So like I can turn invisible, and I’m really strong, and I can feel whatever my person is feeling. There’s some other stuff too but that’s the main stuff. Oh!” He turned to werewolf Roach, “I’m with both Soap and Ghost too!”

“So who is your person?” Soap asked with a tilt of his head, “and like…how have you protected them?”

“Oh, Ghost is my person,” he sent a sweet smile to Ghost. “I’ve done all sorts of stuff for him!” He started to list things off, “I’ve helped clear out enemy bases, I’ve helped pull him out of wrecks, I killed his dad, I’ve helped stop him from bleeding, I’ve-”

“Woah,” Ghost stopped him with wide eyes. “What did you say?”

“I’ve helped stop you from bleeding?”

“Not what he meant,” Soap’s voice was a bit strained, “I think we’re talking about the dad thing.” 

“Oh! Yeah, I killed your dad.” He tilted his head, “Is he not a complete dick in this universe? Cause in my universe he was an abusive prick.” 

“No, uh,” Ghost cleared his throat, “He was a bit like that here too.” 

“Oh, okay,” The Roach grinned at him. He turned to Gaz then, “What’s my title?”

Gaz blinked at him for a moment before offering, “We’ll call you Anima Roach I guess?”

“Sick.”

“Okay,” Roach looked around the group carefully, “Is anyone else here not human?”

There was a long pause before, hesitantly, the Roach in the cloak raised his hand. “Um, I’m human but my Soap and Ghost aren’t. Should I go?”

“Ooh, this sounds interesting,” Anima Roach leaned forward with a grin, “Yes, you go!”

“Well,” This Roach squirmed a bit, “I’m not going to lie, this is all very odd to me. I suppose I’m not from this time period? I’m not sure. I was a prince,” he started carefully, “Though maybe I am still a prince? I’m not sure how it works. I think my parents still consider me a prince, though they’re also still claiming that Soap and Ghost kidnapped me.” He paused to think for a moment, “I suppose it doesn’t matter. Um, I’m with both Soap and Ghost and they’re…well they’re dragons.”

Silence hung around the room for several moments before, in unison, Anima Roach and the Roach in all black asked, “How do you guys have sex?”

“I do not want to hear about how this guy fucks dragons!” Criminal Roach called out, “That sounds terrible!”

“Hey,” The Roach in all black pointed at him, “If I had to listen to you explain the wack ass biology in your world, I get to hear this guy talk about how the fuck sex with dragons works.”

“Do we get a say in if we hear this or not?” Gaz asked, his voice cracking. He was met immediately by at least four of the Roachs calling out a harsh no. 

“Go on,” the Roach in black motioned forward, “I gotta hear how this works.”

“So you can choose what type of dick you want?” Anima Roach gave a groan and fell back against the ground dramatically, “You’re so fucking lucky!”

Dragon Roach’s entire face was red. He’d stuttered nervously through his explanation, but everyone had understood his words. Essentially it boiled down to: Soap and Ghost could shift their forms. Something that had spawned numerous questions from Anima Roach, Werewolf Roach, and the Roach in black. “Can we just,” Dragon Roach stuttered, “Move on maybe?”

“Hey, you, other fantasy looking guy,” The Roach in black pointed at him, “You go next, you’ve been super quiet.”

“I don’t know that my universe is as interesting as that,” he started quietly. “Um, I’m also not from this time, I suppose. I’m married,” he squirmed nervously before looking up to catch Soap’s eye, he looked away just as quickly, “To Soap. Just Soap, though Ghost and I are friends.” 

“Okay,” Anima Roach drew out, “Is that all? Are you not like a prince or something more interesting?”

“I’m nobility?” the Roach offered weakly, “And the consort to a king.”

“That means that,” Roach turned to Soap with wide eyes, “Who the fuck made Soap a king?”

“A genius, obviously,” Soap responded easily. He gave a grin, “I like the sound of this universe. All it’s missing is all three of us together,” he leaned closer to Roach and Ghost. “But no weird magic or evil people sounds nice.” They all spotted the wince that the other Roach gave at those words. “Oh no.”

“Well,” he shifted nervously, “Gaz is a sorcerer and Ghost is half-fae. And also there's the issue with Makarov.”

“Makarov?” Half of the room said the name with horror creeping into their voices. 

“He wanted to marry me,” Roach explained quickly, “He was not happy that I married Soap and he’s been causing problems.”

“My Makarov is a dick too,” Dragon Roach gave a nod, “Kept trying to kidnap me, like actually kidnap me.”

“Makarov in general is a dick,” Roach nodded, “Fucking ultranationalists.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” the Roach in black looked between everyone with a raised eyebrow, “Hold on,” he pointed at Roach, “Okay now you have to go because Makarov is an ultranationalist?”

“He is for me too,” Werewolf Roach chimed with a raised eyebrow.

“Same here,” Anima Roach added.

“Ditto,” Criminal Roach nodded. 

“Okay, okay,” the Roach in black pointed at him, “You go. I gotta hear this.”

“I’ve technically lived in two universes,” Roach started hesitantly, “I died in the first and was reborn here. I still have all of my memories from the first universe. Makarov was similar to me. He wanted me to kill Price because Price killed him in our first universe. We tricked him, I killed him, and since then the Russian Ultranationalist Party has been in a slow decline.” He paused before adding, “And if it wasn’t obvious I’m with both Soap and Ghost.” 

The Roach in black gave a low whistle, “Man, seems like I have the most normal universe out of all of us.” He tilted his head, “You guys sound crazy.” 

“Well, explain your normal universe then,” Anima Roach gave a snort, “Because you certainly don’t seem normal.”

“Well,” he started, “For one, I started the ultranationalist party and its the American ultranationalist party,” he rolled his eyes, ignoring the way that half of the room gaped at his words, “They call us terrorists, but that’s just a plain lie. General Shepherd does way worse than us. Anyways, Makarov isn’t an ultranationalist, he’s in the 141 though,” he gave a grin, “I would love to meet one of you guys’ versions of Makarov, he sounds hot.” 

“What the fuck,” Roach muttered lowly, horror creeping into him as this Roach continued.

“Also you’re all missing out. Just with Soap and Ghost. Lame! I’m fucking Soap, Ghost, Makarov, Gaz, Price, and Jackson.”

“What the fuck,” Roach spoke a little louder, his face going red. “How? Why?”

“Well,” the other man waved him off, “Jackson and I were together first, but then I saw the 141 and decided I liked them. So I took Makarov first cause he would be the easiest. Then Gaz, then Soap and Ghost, and I saved Price for last.”

“You kidnapped them?” Dragon Roach sounded horrified. 

“Well yeah,” Ultranationalist Roach looked around the group, “Why are you all looking at me like I’m insane? My life is the most normal out of all of you fuckers.” 

“It absolutely is not,” Criminal Roach shook his head, “And I say that as someone who comes from a world with a completely different biology for people. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Okay,” Ultranationalist Roach raised his hands, “Just say you’re all boring and move on.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Hey,” Anima Roach narrowed his eyes, “So you’ve slept with all of the members of the 141?”

“Yeah?”

There was a pause before Anima Roach asked, “...which one of them has the biggest dick?”

“Okay what the fuck-”

[fabuloustrash05]

Me coming to the realization that all of the turtle iterations basically have a body count and honestly- 2003 and or 2012 have the biggest body count and also finding out that in the original mirage comics they were literal cold blooded killers with the intention to kill Shredder and right before he died the turtles offered him to commit seppuku which is apparently the honorable samurai method of suicide and they were trained by Master Splinter exactly to kill him and they showed no mercy and they were completely ruthless, even including Mikey and Donnie who people consider the goofballs and literal angels in every TMNT iteration, which makes TMNT so much more darker and the fact that the turtles were actual killers before being some kind of heroes disturbs me be like:

I'm not kidding btw you can watch Court of source's video on it... My life is broken now...

Longtime fans of TMNT like myself already know this fact.

In the original Mirage comics, the turtles were intended to be very dark and gritty, hell, they kill Shredder in the first issue. Not to mention the IDW comics where Donnie is brutally beaten to death by Bebop and Rocksteady and dies. Eastman and Laird’s intention with TMNT was to take the most ridiculous concept ever and make it as dark and serious as possible. 

Or recently with the entire Last Ronin comic series where all but one turtle is still alive (I’m not gonna say which turtle because that’s a spoiler), and he is on a journey to stop the Foot and avenge his brothers, Casey’s and his father’s death. At one point he even tries to commit suicide because he’s so depressed that he failed and his family is gone. That shit is dark and depressing. 

So anyway, all of this is old news to me XD