#this belongs in a rubber room with rats

[mechsteria]

hatsune mi(nos)ku

[sandeewithtwoe]

Honestly he had it coming

Killer belongs to rahafwabas

Horror belongs to horrortalecomic

The poses are heavily referenced from the movie Lupin the third Castle of Cagliostro

Except for the last one. The last one is from Family Guy.

In case you can’t read my handwriting:

Horror: So… Dust is talking to himself again?

Killer: Yep.

Horror: Damn, crazy

Killer: CRAZY?! I was crazy once! They-

Horror: STOP. The joke is old, it’s not funny anymore!

Horror: Urg! Did you just lick my hand??

Killer: They locked me in a room! A rubber-

Horror: You..!

Killer: A rubber room! A rub..!

Killer:… with r-rats! And… ok ok, I give up! I give u- *CRACK*

Horror:… Sorry

[gtzel]

Theo (annoyed at Pazu): your driving me crazy!

Pazu: Crazy? I was crazy once, they locked me in a room. A rubber room. A rubber room with rats. And the rats made me crazy. Crazy? I was crazy once, they locked me in a room. A rubber room. A rubber room with rats. And the rats made me crazy. Crazy? I was crazy once, they locked me in a room. A rubber room. A rubber room with rats. And the rats made me crazy. Crazy? I was crazy once, they locked me in a room. A rubber room. A rubber room with rats. And the rats made me crazy.

Theo: why….

Ocs belong to @afraidparade go check them out!

[sis-goleona]

Title: Half dead?-(part two to the Half dead? series)

Pairing: The Cat King x Male! Reader

Word Count: 1,724

Summary: The King remembers how he found the reader...Something quite demonic.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

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Thomas held the silver plate delicately in both of his hands, keeping the plate steady to ensure none of the strategically placed food slipped off. He rarely made dinner for anyone other than himself, the cats in his care had their means of finding sustenance. The food in question was various types of shellfish, crab legs, shrimp, and lobster tail. The king ensured he cooked the most expensive cuts to impress his special guest. The cats dragged a few bottles of water on a towel behind them. Thomas was pleased that these cats decided to help out of their own volition, usually, they are less than helpful when the king needs to get a job done....the cats are stubborn (much like him, but he won't admit that) they only do things if it benefits them. Cats are cats and nobody knows that better than the Cat King himself. Stepping into his bedroom, the yellow-eyed immortal took in the sight before him. The reader was fast asleep on the rounded bed in the center of the room. His eyes were shut and brows tightly knit together, he looked ... feverish, sickly almost, though the life did come back into his features, a stark difference from when he first laid eyes on him. The reader’s arms lay still by his sides, his hands lay just below his stomach; careful not to touch the large wound that spread from the top of his chest to his navel. When the cat king first laid eyes on the reader he was very unaware of the type of injuries he had sustained.

The king followed his little creatures out into the deep greenery of Port Townsend, a dense forest that lay delicately on the edge of the ocean. Thomas didn’t leave his warehouse all that often but when his cats called for him he was sure to follow. Any type of disturbance that may cause harm to his friends needs to be dealt with immediately. Especially now that the Witch is gone and dead he needed to keep his yellow eyes out for danger, constantly. It was just the break of a golden dawn when his cats alerted him to a gruesome sight; at the very edge of the lush green forest was a man, he lay face down on the grass, a dark black thick fluid surrounded his body, his arm was stretched out and lied limply, the liquid covering the entirety of the hand. This person wore what looked to be an oversized sweatshirt that covered the upper half of his body and stopped short at his wrists which were barely recognizable. He wore a pair of light gray well what looked to be light gray slacks, the liquid covered the pants but left splotches of untouched fabric. The unusual part about the whole thing was, that he wasn’t wearing shoes, just a pair of multicolored socks that were darkened and stained by grass, dirt, and whatever the liquid was. The cat king’s eyes scanned the area, nothing out of place in the normally quiet port town. A soft meow beckoned his attention, a brown tabby cat looked up at their king with a glint in their sharp green eyes, usually a look cats give when they have found a prize or brought in a plump rat as an offering for the king. The object of the feline’s obsession was a boot, a light pastel purple color that surrounded most of the leathery fabric, the base was made of black semi-translucent rubber there was an orange string that weaved in and out of the trim to sew the leather and rubber together. ‘Funny’, he thought, this boot color is so bright compared to the limp body’s dark clothing. Of course, the thought that this shoe may not belong to him ran across his mind, but in the small port town, not many people left their newly, expensive-looking boots destitute in the woods. Slowly; Thomas stepped toward the unnamed body that lay unmoving across the crisp early morning grass. The sound of gravel crunching underneath the yellow eye’s shoes and a couple of inquisitive meows from his furry companions filled the early morning air, “weird” the king muttered to himself, there were no other sounds in the forest, it was incredibly quiet usually the woods are full of songs from the wildlife but there was no chirping from birds or crickets making whatever sound crickets make nor was there any scuttering of little rodents. No matter, he needed to see if this human was still alive. He finally got close enough to see the texture of the sweatshirt and to smell the iconic metallic smell of blood, except this was not blood it was a pure black thick substance. The king squatted down to the level of the man’s head. And in this proximity, he picked up the scent of…rotten eggs…” fuck that's sulfur” All different kinds of alarm bells went off in his brain; black liquid, rotten egg smell “Children, let’s get this human back to the warehouse, there is a demon loose in port Townsend and I have a feeling they can tell us a few things” Thomas announced to the cats that surrounded him, they all looked up in unison a familiar look of distaste riddled in between their feline features. 

Reader stirred in his sleep alerted by the sound of soft footsteps and light purring from the five cats behind their king. Thomas looked around, finding a steel table to prop the plate on. His feet carried him to the reader's bedside. His yellow feline eyes took in the features that made up the resting human’s face, It was soft looking; supple yet textured it looked like skin yes..but the king wanted to reach out his hand and delicately place his fingers upon his cheeks and carry them down to his slightly parted lips, he wanted to see if the human skin felt exactly how it looked. He stopped his movements sharply, his hand suspended right above the sleeping face, he realized he was acting on his imagination, he brought his arm down to the collarbone of the sleeping man and shook him lightly. Reader’s eyes shot open, fear immediately replacing those calm and relaxed features. His whole body tensed while his eyes took in his surroundings, and then they landed on the raised eyebrows of his host, he allowed his body to relax once more. “Sorry, love didn’t mean to startle you,” the king said with a coy smile. Reader sucked in his bottom lip, letting it rest in between his teeth, a movement the king picked up on, it was so very inviting. ‘Right,’ the king thought to himself ‘food for the guest’. Thomas, again, picks up the plate and proceeds to set it down in front of Reader.

Upon seeing the plate full of white meaty sustenance his face drops....he was oh so hungry but nothing on that plate will be able to touch him. Thomas immediately understood the expression on his face...disappointment. The king tried his best not to get upset, he went all out for this dish! And even the sight of it made the reader disappointed.

"I cannot eat shell...fish," he said suddenly, his hands quick to motion. "Allergic". Thomas read over his face again, he looked almost apologetic, like it was his fault he couldn't eat the one thing he was allergic to. The yellow-eyed king sighed and replaced his frown with a soft smile. He closed his eyes, relieved to know that his guest wasn't all that disappointed. "You know what? I should have asked if you had any dietary restrictions...My bad". The reader also let a small smile rest upon his lips. But a growl that erupted from his stomach stopped this rather sweet interaction. "Right, um...how about PB&J? Will that work" Thomas hoped this would suffice, he didn't have that much food in his fridge, just shellfish and ingredients for a PB&J. The king thanked his lucky stars that the reader didn't have to wait any longer for food. What kind of host would he be if he left the poor sickly boy all alone in his bed while he went out...He definitely didn't want the reader to get into any of his stuff while he was away! That's what he told himself, he didn't want to admit to himself that he didn't want the reader to leave him. Now and then Thomas would think back to Edwin, those words he spoke in their last meeting "We're both lonely" Lonely? LONELY? As if I, the cat king who is surrounded by loyal followers could ever be lonely. At least that's what he told himself...He knew deep down that it was true, he also knew that Edwin's leaving caused a lot more sorrow than others who had left him before. "That sounds good" the groggy voice spoke out, quickly cutting the Cat King's thoughts into pieces. "Great...actually...I'm h-hungry" Now this was the most the reader had spoken in a while, and he felt it in his throat. It was beyond dry and he was in desperate need of liquid. It almost made him gag, the friction was overbearing. He let out a raspy cough that felt like the delicate flesh of his throat was ripping itself apart. The reader grasped his neck as a means to stop the pain, but it provided little comfort. Thomas quickly picked the cold bottle up and brought it to the reader, in hopes that it would soothe whatever spell hit him. 

Once calmed down. (And fed) the yellow-eyed king took a seat on the edge of the circular bed, it dipped ever so slightly under his weight, the sheets rippled and pulled in response to the sudden change. He drew in a deep breath, it filled his lungs and raised his chest. He held it there for a bit before exhaling. He was preparing himself to ask the question about how the reader had attained those horrific cut wounds that traversed his body. The king thought back to when he found the body and all the evidence that led to the idea of a demon being somewhat involved…He needed the reader to explain what the hell had happened out there. “Reader…let’s talk about the demon that tried to murder you” 

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The second part is officially done. If you guys read this and have any criticism please let me know! this is the first time that I have written a short story and posted it. Thank you so much!!!!!

-Love Author Sybil

[risaparadise]

[fnafagainstmodernfnaf]

Crazy?? I was crazy once they locked me in a room. A rubber room. A rubber room with rats. The rats made me crazy. Crazy?? I was crazy once. They put me in a room. A rubber room. A rubber room with rats. The rats made me crazy. Crazy???-

I’m going to shove you back into your rubber room where you belong

This is who I become when I read your petty asks

-Mod Freddy Fazbear🎩

[randomroleplayer4269]

There are 2 kinds of anons

one is holesome

the other belongs in a rubber room (with rats)

"The duality of Anon"

[yokohamapound]

I’m back for part 2! Chuuya deserves it! 👀

Im dying to know what domestic life is like with the king? What’s his home look like? What does he do in his downtime? How’s he with chores? Really whatever comes to mind when living with a man like him. Thank-you kindly, lovely! <3

More short king headcanons!

Characters: Nakahara Chuuya

Contents: gender neutral reader

Nakahara Chuuya

So, Chuuya's memories only start from when he was seven. He essentially woke up to being dragged out of a dark void, before Arahabaki's power exploded and created the crater that eventually became Suribachi City. We don't know much about the intervening eight years between when he was freed and when he met Dazai, but it's easy to assume he was living in the slums, either on the streets or squatting in empty buildings. The point I'm driving at is that Chuuya didn't really have a domestic life until he joined the Sheep, and probably nowhere comfortable until he joined the Port Mafia.

As such, he doesn't take his home for granted.

It took Chuuya a while to cultivate his current taste. His first couple of Port Mafia paychecks were probably spent on clothes, food, games—stuff a fifteen year old street rat would want but couldn't afford. Kouyou stepped in when she realised his room looked like an empty box with a bed and clothes strewn everywhere. She insists she's not his mother, but she took him under her wing and directed him toward interior design and actually buying furniture beyond a bed.

Nowadays, Chuuya doesn't need any help whatsoever. I feel like his taste leans toward 1920s luxury. Think art deco, deep colours, polished woods, lots of light. He's upgraded his living space a few times to go along with his rise in status, and one of his favourite things is working out how he's gonna make this empty white box into a home.

This man has antiques. He ignored all the jokes and bought himself an antique hat stand that sits in his foyer. Dazai can go choke; it makes Chuuya happy. He's careful about what he picks—he doesn't enjoy clutter for the sake of clutter, unless it belongs to his s/o. (Your stuff triggers his simp switch and he likes seeing it around, mixed with his things.)

Now, he's also a 21st-Century guy with a lot of money on his hands, so there'll be copious gadgets mixed in with the tasteful vintage decor. He has every games console going, and one of those ridiculous TVs that comes out from behind a panel in the wall. The coffee machine in the kitchen would put a hipster coffee shop to shame, honestly.

He has a big closet. You can't look at that guy and tell me he doesn't have a walk-in wardrobe. Padded hangers, cedarwood drawers, stands for his hats, a drawer full of gloves—your guy has them all. He insisted on cedarwood because it discourages moths, and smells a lot better than mothballs.

Despite his bad habit of throwing his overcoat and gloves around, Chuuya takes care of his things, including his home. He's not a neat freak, but he's trained himself to take dishes to the kitchen, throw out trash, etc. If his s/o lives with him, he tries to split the chores 50/50 but it's not always feasible if he's out working long hours. If the housework gets too much, he'll hire someone to come in and take care of it.

He doesn't like washing up, but will take care of all the dusting, take out the trash, and he rarely generates much laundry because this expensive mofo gets it dry cleaned. The washing up thing is because he hates rubber gloves, and wet food touching his bare hands gives him the ick. He'll dry the dishes. Honestly, though, he probably invests in a dishwasher and a roomba (nicknamed Dazai, because it sucks.)

Chuuya doesn't get a lot of downtime, so he tries to make it count. Time spent with you is the best, even if it just involves sitting around the apartment catching up on books, movies, or TV shows he's wanted to consume. He likes going shopping, but he especially likes going shopping with you to buy stuff for the apartment. He refuses to go to the hellscape that is Ikea, but most other places are fair game. He likes his own taste, of course, but Chuuya likes seeing things around the apartment that you've chosen. He looks for ways to blend your taste with his, so you create a cosy, harmonious place that reflects the both of you.

[anti-science-cohost]

Ooo there it is.

I think rats are fun and nice and belong in rubber rooms.

Hey guys so if a stranger came up to the door what would you do. Like, in conversation.

If someone offered you candy if you get into their white van with no windows what are you doing.

[evabellasworld]

Storm of the Republic

Chapter 25

AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25

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Summary:  When Tup murdered General Tiplar during a battle, Anakin Skywalker and Captain Rex dispatched Ahsoka, Fives, and Yara to solve the mystery that was plaguing the Clone Army. Meanwhile, Senator Padme Amidala contacted Commander Fox, Commander Tori, Riyo Chuchi, and Dipper to help her continue investigating the death of Palpatine, suspecting that Dooku was behind the evil plot. But when Dooku send an ISB agent to stop them, the team had to race against time to search for the truth, which could alter the course of the galaxy.

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Massaging her daughter’s hair with her fingers, Tori hummed a cheerful tune as Frieda was sitting inside the bathtub, splashing water with both her tiny hands. With two candles lighting up the room, the guest bathroom had a sweet scent, which comforted the clone commander.

Curling herself inside the warm, foamy bathtub was a privilege that Tori had, and it would be the last time she could enjoy a bath like this. Usually, she had to take an open shower with Frieda and her sisters and she had to be quick about it. Now, she could take as much time as she needed without rushing through her relaxation.

It was difficult for her to sleep through the night, despite the long journey from the base. She found her queen bed to be soft, unlike her stony bunk bed. Tori and Friedahad to share with Rex, who does everything he can to drive her crazy. She could even recall the time where Rex placed a dead spider on her pillow, which pissed her off the entire day. He apologised eventually, but that didn’t stop her from cussing at him.

It’s been a while since she felt peace, though she’ll have to go back to Anaxes once the mission was done, where she had to deal with Rex and the rest of the 101st Battalion, who always created chaos whenever they had the chance. Flover, especially, would put a dead rat in Dipper’s helmet, which caused him to scream until the other units could hear them.

Flover was also the reason Tori would get a headache whenever they’re in the battlefield, as the blue-haired clone would rush towards the enemies, which unfortunately became her hubris in the Battle of Coruscant. Tori wasn’t there, but she wished Flover was still alive. As mischievous as she was, the commander felt odd without her presence. Even Dipper missed her.

“Mama,” Frieda spoke, holding a rubber ducky in her hands. “Are you okay?”

“I am, baby,” Tori replied, focusing on her daughter. “I was just thinking, that’s all.”

“What are you thinking about, Mama?”

“I was thinking about your Aunt Flover. She would have loved you very much if she was still here.”

“Who’s Aunt Flover?” the little girl asked. “And where is she?”

“Well, Aunt Flover was one of my vod’ika, and she had blue hair and loves to joke around with the others, especially Uncle Dipper. She and Uncle Dipper were like cheese and crackers. Unfortunately, Aunt Flover died in a fight six months ago, and I miss her very much.”

Frieda hung her head low as her smile disappeared. “Mama, what will happen if you die?”

Tori blinked as she hugged her knees, wondering what she could answer. She was no stranger to her daughter’s odd questions, but this one struck a chord in her mind. There were many speculations about life after death, but the commander wasn’t sure what to believe in. But she can’t leave her daughter hanging. Frieda will feel as if she had done something wrong.

“There are many beliefs about what happened after death,” Tori tried to answer. “Some believe that you become one with the Force, some also believe that you either go to the Garden or the Pitfire based on your actions, and some believe that you’re resurrected into another life. The truth is, there is no right or wrong answer to what happened after death. There’s just many possibilities for you to believe, that’s all.”

“Well, what do you believe, Mama?”

“I believe that if I die, then I just fade into oblivion, that’s all.”

“Will you be forgotten, Mama?” cried Frieda. “I don’t want you to disappear forever. I can’t live without you.”

Tori stroked her puffy wet cheeks, smiling. “As long as someone keeps my memory alive, then I’m never truly dead. I wish I could live forever, but that would be impossible. We all have to go, eventually.”

“Do you know when you will die, Mama?”

She shook her head. “No one knows when our time is up. That’s why we shouldn’t take life for granted. In order to be happy throughout your life, we should appreciate every moment we spend with someone we love, whether it’s big or small.”

“Then I will never forget you, Mama,” Frieda promised, as she climbed on Tori’s lap and hugged her. “I’ll do everything I can to remember you.”

Tori hugged her back with tears in her eyes. The last thing she wanted was to make Frieda an orphan. The latter had survived in the streets for a while and Tori does not want her little girl to go through that hardship ever again. Tori had to make sure she lived to see the last day of war.

As she cradled Frieda with her arms, there was a thunderous knock on the door. “Are you done?” Fox shouted. “You’ve been in there forever.”

“Damn you, Foxy,” she cursed, as she got out from the bathtub, with a five-year-old in her arms. “I was having a wonderful moment just now.”

“Whatever, just get changed,” ordered the Marshal Commander. “We have a mission to complete. Also, it’s Fox, not Foxy.”

“Oh please. I bet you were also soaking in the bathtub with Riyo too.”

Silence filled outside her bathroom door. As Tori and Frieda wrapped themselves with a fuzzy towel, Fox finally spoke after a few minutes. “Just hurry, goddamit.”

She snorted, draining the tub. If he can have a nice, romantic moment with Riyo, then I’m also entitled to have a bubble bath with Frieda as well. God, what a sly, cunning fox.

Walking out of the bathroom door, they headed inside their room and changed into the same outfits they wore yesterday, except it was dry cleaned by Padmé. Despite sweating underneath the pink dress, Tori felt as if she had just bought them from a store.

She also wore the same white ribbon as well and applied makeup on her face to look pretty. Those makeup set belonged to Padmé, but the latter was happy to let her use them. Her foundations and powders, however, don’t match her skin, so Tori just put on her eyeshadow, eyeliner, and a hint of lipstick instead.

Her cat eyeliner may not be perfect, but Tori could raise her head as she glanced at her reflections in the mirror. Who the hell gave me permission to make me this beautiful?

“Tori, are you done?” Fox banged on the door. “Come on, we have to get going.”

“I’ll be there, Foxy,” she complained. “It’s not like I’m late, anyway.”

“5 minutes or I’m leaving you behind.”

“I hate you,” she blew a raspberry, as she lifted Frieda with her arms and rushed towards the living room, where everyone was geared up for a stealth mission.

[dykeninthdoctor]

wrists get tired (rewriting futures). [read on ao3.]

May’s flip-flop heels slap against wet pavement, heat radiating in nearly-visible waves off the ground and soaking into the air, air that’s as thick as the soup her mother used to make her when she was sick. Sweat drips down the back of her neck, tiny strands of hair coming loose from the ponytail that’s already managed to last her a twelve-hour workday at the hospital. Thank God for rubber bands, even if they’re hell to get out. She’ll probably have to get Peter to cut it, if he’s still awake. 

She hopes he’s not. 

A train rumbles underneath the sidewalk, sending another rush of hot air up through a nearby grate to meet her. It smells like Ben’s unwashed gym socks and rat shit and everything in their fridge at home, probably; old egg sandwiches and tuna fish and a half-eaten jar of kimchi.

God, she hopes Peter ordered dinner before he went to bed. She hopes he’s in bed. 

Streetlights reflect their sickly yellow light—miniature moons to replace the absence of the real one in a sky blotted with pollution—in the pools of water that are inevitable with the unevenness of the concrete in their area; the area she calls home.

There’s a crack in the sidewalk outside their apartment building; she hops over it automatically, years of tradition—of paint-stained fingers tangled with hers, of his crooked grin and glasses held together with tape, of laughter every time she purposefully stepped on the jagged split in the pavement that matched the smile on his face, of kisses that tasted like oranges—overwhelming her. For just a second. 

May lets go of them just as quickly as they come. 

It’s not the time for them, those sepia-tinged memories that are creased at the corners, faded in the center, stained with tears that she can’t scrub out no matter how hard she tries, darkened with the touch of Death’s hand. Not when Peter’s upstairs waiting for her. 

She hopes he’s not. 

The selfish part of her hopes he is. 

He doesn’t come out of his room anymore. 

The room that stays locked every night, has stayed locked since the night she lost her past, present, and future no more; the closed door a silent message that speaks louder than any word he’s said since the night she lost her past, present, and no longer future; a message that forms a wall between them, a wall she can’t break down, can’t break through without the key, and she’s gone months with an empty hand; words come few and far between, for Peter, now, and each one is food she hoards like a starving woman since the night she lost her future.

Since the night Peter became the only future that mattered. 

The few times May does see him, there are bruises on his knuckles. Bloodstains on his clothes. Crescents under his eyes that are darker than the sea during a storm. 

Ben took her to the beach once. 

The button for the elevator cracks when she jabs her finger against it. They should move out. They can’t move out. She stares at the broken piece of plastic still pressed to her skin; her skin pressed to it, like she can’t pull away, like the heat has fused it to her body, melded them together in ways she can’t change. It’s an off-white that’s stained enough that it should be suspicious. She doesn’t care. When the elevator door opens, her finger drops away; the bottom half of the button falls onto the carpeted floor. 

 Her reflection looks out at her from the warped metal of the door; she’s all streaked colors, a faceless ghost masquerading as a person. It’s cold when she touches it, the streak that’s supposed to be her hand matching the movement.

She doesn’t know what to do with her hands anymore, when there’s nothing for them to hold. 

Metal groans as the LEDs that make up the digital numbers above the door flash to form a blocky 2, then a 3, then a 4. The grainy fluorescent lights above her flicker for a split second; the veins in her hand look bluer than usual, rivers of oil slick under her skin, poison. 

The car lurches to a stop at 5. 

May shoves her hands—nail polish chipped, cuticles bitten, skin dry—into the pockets of her Hello Kitty scrubs and steps out onto their floor. 

Scuff marks decorate the walls on the way to the end of the hallway where Peter’s waiting—she hopes he isn’t—and she stops at the one shaped like a child’s shoe print. It’s at waist level, against the doorjamb of Mrs. Elizabeth’s, and she still remembers the day it appeared. The boys were six, hands dusted with sidewalk chalk and hair unruly, bare knees marked with grass stains and tiny sneakers caked with dirt. It was the first time Peter had laughed—something that sounded like sunshine leaving his tiny body when Flash’s shoe had come flying off as he kicked at the air—since the night he lost his past, his present, but not his future, in a plane crash that no one predicted, except an absent God. 

They should go to temple on Saturday. 

She should invite Flash to go with them. 

He’s the one person who’s been able to get a sentence of more than three words out of Peter since the night they lost the soul to May’s body, the mind to Peter’s heart, the future to their present. It’s ironic, that May couldn’t, but the boy, who speaks to Peter with words sharp as glass, who hadn’t spoken to Peter for two years before the night everything imploded with someone else’s finger on the trigger, who holds himself together with splints made of popsicle sticks and hastily-taped on masks, could. 

But then again, Richie always could get Ben to speak, even on the days when the silence was deafening. 

Tears spill over, unbidden, unwanted, needed. The hand that used to have purpose comes up to wipe them away before they can fall. 

The apartment door is locked, because Ben isn’t there to wait up for her anymore, and Peter can’t, shouldn’t, won’t. 

May hopes he has. 

It’s with trembling fingers she unlocks the door, sets the keys onto the linoleum kitchen countertop with its perpetually sticky residue, picks up the empty Chinese takeout container to throw away, tugs weakly at the rubber band in her hair until it hurts, closes the cracked window with the weight of her body, rubs her face in the darkness of the empty kitchen. 

It’s with trembling fingers she turns on the lights. 

Peter’s door is open. 

The room is empty. 

A tapestry of emotions rips through her, woven with threads of fear, created on a loom of death, a perfect portrait of grief. She can’t lose another future. 

“Peter,” says a voice that used to belong to her, “Peter!” 

A noise from the bathroom. A familiar noise, too familiar, the sound of metal against tile, a needle falling to the ground—a pin dropping to break the silence—the same sound she heard when she was eighteen. And when she was nineteen. And twenty. Bare feet resting on a colorful bathmat, hand on Ben’s bicep to hold him still as she painstakingly sewed his skin back together, extra needles on the edge of the sink on the verge of falling to the floor.   

Bile rises in her throat. 

“Peter,” she hears her voice say again. 

Light appears through the crack under the door. 

“I’m—I’m in the bathroom, don’t come in! I’ll be out in a second!” 

The door is unlocked. 

Peter, wearing nothing but a pair of faded gray sweatpants with a peeling logo that’s barely recognizable, sits in the bathtub, the plastic shower curtain decorated with cartoon fish shoved hastily aside. There’s blood on the curtain. Blood on his hands. A hole in his stomach. 

When his eyes meet hers, they’re full of guilt. 

It’s the same expression he wears every day. She hadn’t recognized it until now. 

“May—I’m sorry.” 

“Shh, baby,” she whispers. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.” 

The needle in his hands falls to the bottom of the tub. 

May picks it up.  

And under Peter’s red-rimmed gaze, her hands find a purpose again. 

[collecting-stories]

Flower Song - c. 3 - JJ Maybank

Request: So Ik you said you’re not taking request but I had an idea for your creedance (?? I already forgot what it’s called sorry my memory is fucked) series where you’re babysitting your niece again and you ask JJ to help her change and everything after a bath and you walk into the room and hear him singing the flower song from Tangled :( I could just imagine him softly singing while she’s drowsy trying to fight sleep so that they can continue singing 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

A/N: I really just need to write fluff.

Creedence Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

You were on the phone with your sister, cleaning up the bathroom after Bea’s bath, throwing towels in the hamper to take to the laundromat tomorrow morning, while JJ put your niece to bed. 

She was the only four year old that you knew who was capable of turning bath time into a mess, rubber duck toys and a Seasame Street submarine lay in the wreckage as you scrubbed some forgotten bubble bath out of the tub and promised your sister that everything was under control.  

“Yeah, she’s been great. I’m gonna go put her to bed now.” You said, putting her toys in a basket and rearranging the bottles of wash and shampoo.  

Your sister’s husband had a work trip to Hawaii for two weeks and your sister had jumped at the opportunity to go along, leaving you in charge of Bea and the house. It was less than ten minutes after your sister had pulled out of the driveway that JJ had ridden his dirt bike up, backpack on, with every intention of staying for the two weeks. Your sister and your brother-in-law liked to travel, usually without their daughter, and you were happy to have the house because it meant another place that JJ could crash. And because you couldn’t help the escape into your brain, playing some sort of convoluted pretend that you and JJ were together and this was your house and your kid. It was innocent, really.  

“Are you listening?” Your sister stressed, voice an octave higher than necessary.  

“Yes, what?”

“Miss Lana said she saw JJ around yesterday,” your sister said, ratting your neighbor out as a snitch, “no boys, remember?”

“He stopped by for like .2 seconds.” You lied.  

“I don’t want guys in the house. This isn’t some excuse for you to have your boyfriend over.” She replied, trying for the sternness that your mom had at some point, long before you could remember. Neither of you really knew how to be parents, siblings, children. It was all just a part you played.  

“No guys, I swear.”  

“We’ll be home next Tuesday,” she promised.  

Once she was off the phone you finished in the bathroom and headed down the hall to Bea’s room. You’d left JJ in charge of putting your niece to bed once the phone rang and you realized it was your sister. He’d taken the toddler down the hall, holding her in his arms when she complained that she was too cold to walk by herself.  

JJ had taken her into her bedroom and set her on the bed, going to her dresser to pull out pajamas. “Alright your highness, which pair? Butterflies or...penguins?” He asked, holding the two oversized t-shirts up for her. She stood on the bed, wrapped in her frog towel, the hood up over her wet hair, lips pursed as she thought over her options.

“Butterflies!” She pointed to the one on the left and he stuffed the penguin shirt back in, making her laugh when the drawer wouldn’t close all the way.  

“We don’t know who did that.” He teased, giving her clothes to dress in while he checked the shelf for a book. He knew the night routine better than her own dad. JJ had been helping you take care of Bea long enough that it was second nature.  

“No books!” She announced, tossing her towel across the room with a flourish and flopping onto the bed.  

“No books? What then?” He laughed, coming over to sit on the side of her bed. She sat against the pillows, her arms around the stuffed bear JJ had bought her for her birthday.  

“Sing!” Bea decided, “the flower song!”  

The three of you had watched Tangled three times in the last two days; it was her new favorite movie and she was slowly learning key words in the songs. JJ knew exactly what song she was talking about. “Alright but I’m warning you my voice is not up to Flynn Ryder level.”

“Flynn doesn’t sing that song.” She giggled.  

“Right, well I’m no Rapunzel either,” he pointed out though he knew it wouldn’t keep him from singing if Bea asked.  

He really did love being here, spending time with you and Bea gave him that sense of family that he’d never gotten to experience in his own home. He knew you were a lot like him, carving out places on the island where you could belong but none of them ever feeling quite like a home. This, the three of you together, was the most home he’d ever felt in one place. And he loved Bea but that wasn’t the reason he’d started volunteering to babysit with you. He was trying his hardest to show you that he was responsible, that he would be a good boyfriend, and hoping that maybe you would change your mind about being just friends. You didn’t know he felt that way about you, he’d never said anything, but after your slip two weeks ago he couldn’t help hoping that you saying you loved him meant you actually loved him.  

You carried the full laundry basket down to the front door before heading back upstairs to check on Bea and JJ. Since your sister was gone, he had been staying in your room while you slept in your sister’s room to be closer to Bea in case, she needed you. Once you reached the top of the steps you could hear the familiar sound of JJ’s off-key voice and Bea’s half-singing/half-shouting to a song from Tangled. You stopped just outside the door, listening as JJ repeated the song over, biting your lip to stop yourself from making any noise. You could hear Bea starting to waver in her wakefulness and you backed up further toward the stairs.

-

“You can pretend to wash dishes all you want, I know you were listening to my incredible singing skills.” JJ teased, coming into the kitchen and pulling himself up onto the counter beside the sink.  

“I wouldn’t call them incredible...I also wouldn’t call it singing.” You replied, jumping back when he flicked water at you. “JJ!��

“Don’t be mean to me. I single-handedly put Bea to bed...that’s some record shit right there.”

“Yes it was, I’m in awe of your child rearing abilities Jay. I can only hope to be as good with kids as you someday.” You said, rolling your eyes at him.  

“I’ll teach you my ways. For a price.” He added as an afterthought.  

“A price? What kind of price?” You asked, “ice cream allowance?”  

“A date.”  

You paused, water pouring over your hands and the plate you were halfway done scrubbing dinner off of, heart pounding in your chest at his suggestion. You tried to calm yourself down, remind yourself that it was all probably a joke on his part. Just JJ being funny. “A date?” You couldn’t help asking though.  

“Yeah. You, me, Bea can even come, a movie, maybe dinner. Possibly just some netflix and chill.” He replied, “A date.”  

“Are you shitting me right now Jay?”

“No, I’m dead serious. I wanna go on a date with you.” He said, “so lets go.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” JJ slipped off the counter and leaned over, kissing your cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning. We can talk day and time.”

“See you in the morning.”  

You watched him walk to your bedroom and close the door behind him, fighting the urge to let out some embarrassing version of a squeal once he had disappeared, knowing that he would definitely hear you. Part of you didn’t care though, he had asked you on a date, something you had been imagining for so long now that you still had trouble believing the conversation you’d just had actually happened.  

-

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[ssharkkind]

Suddenly you get coldcocked in the face from the future.

You'd know the knuckles belonging to that suckerpunch anywhere.

Trace always knows where you've been.

The spineless rat likes to follow your PAST TRAIL around and mess with you.

Trouble is, whenever he does, he lets you know exactly where he's going to be in the future. This time you'll be ready for him.

You radio Deuce for backup. Give him a time and place, and exactly what path through the mansion to take.

You follow Droog's simple instructions. So simple even a forgetful nincompoop like you can remember.

Trace followed Droog's PAST TRAIL even further back, but found a much fresher trail crossing his path.

Trace decides he'll trace this guy for a while, see what he's up to. And then mess with him of course.

Trace catches up to where you were. But you're gone already. All he sees is the long, gross rubbery arm of your PAST TRAIL stretching through the room.

He finds his comrade tied up with the stretchy rubber arms of a small man. But there is nothing gross or unpalatable about that in the least.

Doze unslows himself and begins mumbling something feverishly.

About his hat.

7/15 GREEN TORSOS DEAD

107/1000 CLOCKS DESTROYED

[eirist]

Winter Whimsies ❄️

CUSTOM MADE

Vignette #: 3

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T

Note: Vignette for the ZoNa Holiday 2020 at @zonamievents in Tumblr. December 18 theme: Ornaments / Traditions. Well, I honestly don’t think it’s a vignette anymore. And I’m still aiming to finish all themes even if the event has ended. It’s still holidays after all. 

Summary: All in all… they pretty much started a weird tree decorating tradition.  And Zoro, as usual, doesn’t want to be a part of it.

The Mugiwara Christmas tree stood in all its glory inside the Sunny’s library.

It was the crew’s first time in two years to put one up. Luffy was enthusiastic with the idea. And with Chopper who was just as excited at the prospect of enjoying the festivity that comes along with the said tree… there was no room to say no.

So off Zoro went—along with Franky—to scour the island for a suitable tree to cut down and use. Brook and Jinbei undertook the task of preparing the library. Nami and Robin headed to town to buy decorations and do some more shopping while Sanji busied himself preparing the Christmas dinner. Luffy, Usopp and Chopper took turns stealing some of the cookie dough whenever the chef’s back was turned.

Trimming the tree was chaos unfolding. The moment Zoro was able to situate it in the library, an argument started on what ornaments to adorn the tree as all of them wanted to have their own specific contribution dangling from the evergreen branches—ranging from normal festive baubles, edible confections to weird knick-knacks.

And that is how Nami and Robin found them when they arrived back on the ship. The navigator immediately hit the roof and the boys (including the older ones), trembled in fear.

When she stared at them with blazing eyes and stated in a tone as cold as the winter island that they all better stop because tree trimming was her and Robin’s job... Usopp immediately volunteered that he and the boys would be the ones to decorate the outside of their ship... far away from the fuming map maker.

He high-tailed it out of the library, miraculously dragging the others with him while Nami threatened that if they do an awful job… she will charged them with all the shopping expenses plus interest.

So the two girls busied themselves with the Christmas tree as the others hang wreaths, garlands and boughs of holly in the library, galley and other parts of the Sunny. Franky and Jinbei then suspended some ice lights on the decks and yellow string lights in the rooms, giving the whole area a more festive ambience.

As more and more Christmas ornaments and decorations were put up on the Sunny… the more excited the crew became.

When Nami and Robin finished decorating the tree, Franky added some string lights to it as well. They all hold off placing the star on the top as they reserved that honor for Luffy and Chopper.

They were putting some finishing touches in the tree and fixing the presents underneath it when Brook walked up to them, humming as he nonchalanty hung additional ornaments on the branches that looked like miniature pirates wearing little red, Santa hats—with hair colors oddly similar to the crews’.

“Brook that is cute!” Nami gushed as she stared at a familiar orange-haired pirate. “Where did you get them?”

“Yohohoho! It’s a secret Nami-san.”

“Fine. Keep it to yourself!”

“Perhaps if you show me your—”

“Not in this life or the next!”

“It’s really charming Brook,” Robin interjected as she studied the mini pirates while Nami smacked the musician with her Clima-tact. “Good find.” She touched one that looks just like her.

“Yohohoho! Thank you Robin-san!”

The sound of Sanji’s voice, crooning for his beloved ladies pulled their attention away. He had baked some Christmas cookies and prepared tea for the girls’ snack time.

With the Christmas tree done and decked out they decided it was time for a break.

-------------------------

When Nami stepped inside the library later that afternoon she was surprised to see that the Straw Hats’ Christmas tree got additional decorations.

Aside from the mini pirates Brook has placed earlier, there were also the cardboard drawings of their faces that Usopp made back in Punk Hazard when Trafalgar Law shambled half of the crew and some flowers from Robin’s flower bed. There intricately-made trinkets obviously made by Franky and transparent Christmas balls with little sea kings inside which looks like Jinbei’s.

Nami’s lips twitched a little. She had just left Luffy and Chopper stringing popcorns and cranberries under the direction of Sanji. Aside from the candy canes they wanted to place on the tree, the blond cook also suggested they make an edible garland to circle it… much to the reindeer and rubber man’s delight.

And since pretty much everything eatable hung on the tree will not go to waste—thanks to Luffy—Nami decided to affix some of her precious mikans on it. She carefully wrapped red ribbons around them so she can string it on the branches for all to enjoy after tonight’s dinner.

A loud snore interrupted her as she was beginning to hang the fruits.

With brows furrowed, she slowly peered behind the tree and was surprised to find their swordsman snoozing against the wall, hidden behind the all that green, without a care in the world.

Was he here all the time?!

Damn the man unwittingly camouflaged himself using the Christmas tree!

She stared at him for a good few seconds, pondering if she should wake him up.

But she remembered that it was Christmas and that she promised to play nice and that Zoro was the one reason why they currently have a tree on display.

“Tch! Guess this is your contribution then, you lazy ass,” she muttered as she continued with what she was doing.

There was silence. Before she heard a ‘hmph’ and grumble.

“Yeah… you try lugging that back here while your idiot companion decides to play in the snow.”

Nami rolled her eyes even if he cannot see her. “Fine,” she groused. “I’m letting you off the hook since you did a good job with this tree.”

“Tch.”

She tilted her head slightly to peer at him again. “Just so you know. Everyone have something distinctively theirs in this tree.”

Zoro studied the tree for a moment before scoffing. “That’s overkill.”

Nami glared at him. “It’s called Christmas spirit idiot!” She frowned as she hung the last two of her mikans. “If it’s not too much for you, maybe YOU can also join us in this activity!” 

“Maybe it is too much for me.”

“Ugh,” she groaned out in frustration. With her hands on her hips she glowered at him. “Really Zoro?”

“Yeah.”

Nami scowled. Sometimes his lone wolf persona grates her nerves. Especially at times like these when the whole crew is involved and he’s acting like he doesn’t give any rat’s ass about it.

Still she doesn't wanna start a fight with him today of all days. Instead, she just sighed and settled on glowering at him. “Just get your dumb self in the galley in half an hour. If it's not too much for you to join your crew for dinner." 

There was a bite in her tone. Then she swiveled around to leave him, ignoring the wondering gaze he was now giving her.

All in all… they pretty much started a weird tree decorating tradition.  And Zoro, as usual, doesn’t want to be a part of it.

And that makes her feel a bit disappointed. 

Yet when he didn't appear when they started the Christmas dinner, she was the one who went to check if he was still snoring in the library.

Why her? The hell she even knows. 

Maybe because the others are already busy celebrating in the galley that she was the only who noticed that he wasn't there?

She opened the library door. The lights on the tree were already lit. Franky or Usopp may have switched it on. It looks more beautiful even if it was decorated with random trinkets, baubles and food the crew decided to hang on it. 

Yet the star still needs to be placed on the top—which Luffy and Chopper will do after dinner and before they start exchanging presents.

To her surprise, Zoro was still where she had left him earlier. 

She strode towards him to wake him, when she accidentally snagged something from the tree, causing it to fall. 

She stared at the object quietly sitting on the floor. It looked like paper folded into a shape of...

She picked it up and studied it. 

A bird? 

"Paper crane."

She spun around and saw Robin standing in the doorway.

"In Wano, it means good luck," Robin explained as she approached her, lightly touching it with one finger. She smiled at Nami. "It also means a wish for someone to get their heart's desire."

Nami just stared back at her amazed. 

"And there are ten of them." Robin observed, eyes crinkling with mirth at the tree before returning her gaze at her. "One for each of us."

Nami's eyes settled back at the crane in her hand. 

Robin chuckled. "Thoughtful isn't it Nami?" 

"I guess..."

The older woman gave her shoulder an affectionate pat. "See you two at the galley." She nodded at the still sleeping Zoro.

Nami watched her leave before shifting her attention again at the green-haired man, still slumbering peacefully against the wall, the red scarf she wrapped around his neck earlier hiding the lower part of his face.

He may appear cold and uncaring, but sometimes looks can be deceiving.

She crouched down beside him. Leaning forward she kissed his exposed nose. 

"Not bad Zoro. Not bad." 

Addendum: I went and tweaked the paper crane legend a bit. Though I honestly think it’s not really that far from the original one. 

[misteria247]

Forgotten

Chapter Five

If looks could kill then Casey had a sneaking suspicion that he'd be dead where he currently sat. The vigilante suppressed a shiver as he felt the dark blue eyed gaze bore into him like an ant under a magnifying glass. Sitting across from him tied up by zip ties was the once believed dead Leonardo Hamato, the turtle glaring at him. From the moment him and April had brought him back to her apartment and he'd woken up, Leo had been glaring nonstop at the man. His gaze held nothing but distrust as he kept his gaze on Casey at all times. It was unnerving to have someone who was a friend look at him like that, to have him look at him like he was an enemy. Casey couldn't help but flick his eyes towards Leo, only to regret it instantly. Leo's stare held no friendly affection, no recognition, only barely concealed anger.

Casey had only seen this look a few times before. It was a look of someone who wouldn't hesitate to try and possibly hurt him if given half the chance to. It was a look that was often times directed at Leonardo's enemies, the look of a furious warrior who would show no mercy. Casey swallowed hard trying not to lose his cool. It made his stomach sink at seeing this nasty look being directed at him. Leo the kind and wise eldest son of his best friend was looking at him like he was a threat and it made him feel ill especially when he recalled what April had told him earlier in the van.

'Casey when he attacked me it.....it was like he didn't know who I was.....almost like he....he doesn't remember who we are....'

The man bit the inside of his cheek and clenched his fists in frustration. Now he understood what she'd been talking about. Casey had to bite back a frustrated groan as the gravity of the situation hit him. If Leo didn't know who they were then it'd make things difficult, especially if he didn't know who his family was.

'Oh god if that's the case.....Raph and the others are going to be crushed.'

Casey thought somewhat bitterly. After finally finding their friend they'd still in a way possibly lost him. The vigilante was taken out of his thoughts by April's shout.

"Wait Master Splinter I need to tell you-"

April stopped mid sentence before letting out a loud noise. Casey gave Leo a look over to make sure he wouldn't move from his position, which was met with an even nastier stare from said turtle before he made his way towards the kitchen where April was. Poking his head through the doorway he took in the roughed up look of April who was clutching her phone staring at it in a conflicted way.

"Ape....?"

Casey called out to her making her look up at him.

"I told him. He was.....shaken to put it bluntly. But I wasn't able to tell him about the uh....situation. Master Splinter hung up on me saying that he'd be here soon."

April mumbled running a hand through her hair. Casey bit back a swear realizing just how bad this was. With Leo being all murderous distrustful ninja mode, the meeting with his father and brothers could end very, very badly.

"What are we gonna do red?"

Casey asked keeping his voice low as to not get their guest even more riled up. April gave a small look, eyes conflicted before she answered him.

"We'll just....have to hope for the best and hope that things don't go straight to hell."

She responded her eyes flickering towards the living room where Leo was held in custody. She could barely make out the turtle from where she was sitting but she could see enough to notice that he was as strung up as a rubber band just waiting to snap at the tiniest amount of pressure.

'Please don't let this end badly.....'

~~~~~

'Leonardo's alive.'

The sentence rang through his head like a record, refusing to stop. Splinter stared at the phone that he'd just hung up, gripping his counter to keep himself from falling over from the shock and various other emotions that slammed into him. His son....was alive. After four years of grief and suffering Splinter was given a miracle. The old rat couldn't stop the sudden tears of joy from spilling over and he let out a choked sob. Leonardo was alive, his son was okay. Another choked noise came from him as he tried to get himself under control. It was surreal for him.

"Master Splinter....?"

A voice spoke up from the entryway of the kitchen. Splinter jumped at the voice being caught off guard for the first time in a long time. Turning towards the doorway his dark eyes met the twin hues of baby blue that belonged to his youngest son, Michelangelo. The turtle stiffened his eyes widened in concern as he saw the tears that stained his father's face.

"Dad-! What's wrong?"

Mikey said panicking as he made his way to him quickly looking the old rat over for any possible injuries. Splinter couldn't help but smile a watery smile at his son's concern and placed a hand on his cheek.

"I am okay my son. In fact I'm better than okay. I have been told the most wonderful news my son."

Splinter said in a somewhat choked tone. Mikey's eyes filled with confusion and he tilted his head a bit like a puppy.

"News? What kind of news Master Splinter?"

The turtle teen asked curious and somewhat cautious. The old master felt his heart twist at the cautious undertone in his child's voice. There was once a time when Mikey would only have curiousity in his voice, but when the tragedy happened his son had become more cautious with receiving news.

'Hopefully it'll be better once we bring him back home.'

Splinter thought warily before smiling at him.

"Go get your brothers and met me in the living room. This is something that they need to know as well."

Splinter answered vaguely, not wanting to say anything till all of his family was in the same room. Mikey gave him a small concerned look before nodding silently and going to do what his father had told him. Splinter watched his son leave the kitchen, letting out a sigh as he mentally prepared himself for the conversation that was to come. Leaving the kitchen as well he made his way towards the living room to wait for his family to be gathered.

~~~~~

Mikey woke up his brothers, his nerves on edge as he led them to the living room trying to ignore their questioning gazes. The youngest son had no idea what was going on but he couldn't help but feel uneasy. Something was going to change, big time. Something that would shake his family up all over again.

'I can't do this again. I can't do another strike.'

His heart cried out. While his father had said it was good news it still didn't help him feel at ease. He always felt like that these days, ever since the death of his older brother.

'Leo.....'

Mikey swallowed the sudden lump in his throat as he thought of Leo. Never in any circumstances did he dare to imagine not having any of his brothers in his life. They were his family, his role models and his protectors. Mikey loved his older brothers more than anything in this world and when he'd lost Leo it was as if someone had come and cut his heart out of his chest. It still haunted him even after four years.

Raphael coming home bloody and bruised.

The two broken swords that were lain in front of Master Splinter's feet.

The broken sobs that his older brother let loose and the sentence that ruined everything.

'He's gone....The Shredder he.....he killed him.....'

At that moment his worst fears had come to life in the most horrifying way possible. He could still hear the broken wails of Donnie, could still see the absolute devastation on his father's face as he broke, could still feel the sudden agonizing pain that overwhelmed him as he joined Donnie's sobbing. Mikey shook his head not wanting to burst into tears again over the memories that would forever haunt him. He needed to keep it together, especially for his family. He needed to be strong like Leo had been before he was cruelly ripped away from them. The turtle took a shaky breath, and nearly jumped when he felt a hand on his shell.

"You okay Mikey?"

Donnie asked softly, his reddish brown eyes knowing. The teen swallowed the sob that wanted to come out and gave Donnie a small smile.

"I'm good Donnie. Just wondering what the news is about."

Mikey answered, earning a huff like noise from Raph.

"Maybe that bastard finally got what was coming to him."

Raphael growled lowly making Michelangelo and Donatello look at him, their own expressions mirroring his. The two knew exactly what their older brother was referring to.

The Shredder.

"If that's it I'd throw a celebration party."

Mikey said simply though the barely concealed anger was heard in his voice. Donnie nodded stiffly, his mouth formed into a tight grimace. The three brothers all felt the ungodly hatred for their worst enemy, as soon as he had taken Leo away from them the trio had let their anger fester somewhat, especially Raph who was dying to get a crack at The Shredder.

"I'll help you decorate."

Raph said with a somewhat smirk. Donnie huffed slightly in somewhat exasperation while Mikey shot him a somewhat smile.

"Awesome dude."

He said. The trio found themselves in the living room shortly after, the sight of their master standing in front of the couch and recliner greeting them. The ninja master gestured towards the seats and the boys quickly sat down before waiting for their father to speak.

"I received a call tonight from April."

Splinter said eyes gazing at them. The brothers stiffened slightly surprised. Splinter continued.

"She has found something. Something important to us. She and Casey found him. They found Leonardo. He's alive my sons."

Splinter said simply, his tone soft. The room fell into a stunned silence, three pairs of eyes burning into their master with disbelief. It didn't last long however when Raph broke it, his voice booming somewhat.

"Leo....! He's alive?!? Then where the hell has he been????"

Raphael shouted his green eyes wide and filled to the brim with conflicting emotions. Donatello sat back in his seat, his eyes wide and frozen in shock as he tried to process this. Michelangelo on the other hand felt his eyes sting as he was overcome with emotion. Splinter gave Raph a small unreadable look.

"I do not know where he has been Raphael. I am hoping that he will explain to us when we go to see him."

Splinter answered soothing Raph's anger for the time being.

"We're....we're gonna go see him? Right now....?"

Mikey asked his voice thick and small. Splinter gave the youngest a smile his eyes alight with warmth.

"Yes we are my son."

He said softly. That was all that was needed before the three boys were out of their seats and going to grab their things.

"I've got to go get my medical kit, Leo's probably got some injuries knowing him."

Donatello rambled under his breath already rushing towards his lab to grab his things. Raphael and Michelangelo were also going towards their own destinations.

"When I see him I'm gonna sock him so hard, that absolute bastard-"

Raphael growled though it was clear to see that he was beaming with unbridled joy as he went to go get the shell raiser warmed up.

"I'm gonna have to make him his favorite dish as a welcome home surprise when we get him home!"

Michelangelo chirped sounding much like he used to be. Splinter smiled warmly as he watched his sons do their thing, feeling his chest well up with hope and happiness.

'Soon he'll be home. Just wait a little longer my son.'

~~~~~

He had no idea how long he'd been sitting there, tied up and being watched constantly by the two humans who had captured him. All he knew was that his wrists and head hurt and that he was scared and angry. He was angry at his thoughtless decision when he'd jumped them from the trees to protect his semi permanent home, he was angry that his mission to be undiscovered had backfired so horribly, he was angry that he was in this mess because of those strangers in his old home that forced him to run. But the thing that made him the angriest was the woman who made him hesitant for that split second. The way she had looked at him, like she couldn't believe what she was seeing, like she felt scared and betrayed by him. It had messed with him badly, making him pause for that precious moment. Not to mention the name that she had called him, the name that had been haunting him since that night when his world went to hell.

Leo.

She'd called him Leo.

The same name that those people who raided his old home had been searching for. It confused him and put him on edge, that he was being mistaken for this Leo person. He had no name, he was just a turtle who lived in the forest before he was forced to flee. He could hear the two humans whispering in the one room voices soft and frantic.

"So how are we gonna explain this April? Master Splinter and the guys are gonna be here soon and he's still looking at us like he wants to gut us!"

The masculine voice, Casey whispered harshly making him narrow his eyes even more in that direction. This human was really pushing his luck with him, after hitting him with that baseball bat and then tying him up like a pig to the slaughter.

"I don't know Casey, I'm hoping that maybe if he sees them....."

The feminine voice, April trailed off quietly.

"That it might jog something?"

Casey finished for her.

"Yeah."

April said softly. He bit back the urge to sigh as he leaned his head on the couch, trying to figure a way out of his predicament. He needed to get out of his bounds so he could escape. He didn't know what these humans wanted nor who this Master Splinter was but he wasn't going to stick around to find out.

'I've gotta get out of here, fast.'

He hissed as he struggled somewhat. He wished he still had his knife but that Casey guy took it from him. The turtle teen continued to struggle with the zip ties, becoming a bit more panicked when they wouldn't budge. He was going to be sold or killed or experimented on at this rate. He hissed as he felt the plastic cut into his wrists and he couldn't help but curse.

'This is it, I'm going to die aren't I?'

The thought made his stomach sink in horror as he realized that he couldn't get out. He felt the fear build up inside him as he tried not to hyperventilate. He should have stayed in his shack, he should have stayed in his forest. Coming to the city had been a terrible mistake and now he was paying the price for it. He was so lost in his turmoil he didn't realize that the front door had opened up and a voice rough and accented filled the air.

"Where is he??"

The voice nearly barked making him flinch in slight panic.

"Nice to see you too Raph. We'll show you in a moment but me and April gotta tell you something-"

Casey's voice answered the one before another voice called out, this one childish and desperate.

"Where's Leo??? You said he'd be here???? Why hasn't he come to greet us???"

The voice questioned before the sound of footsteps could be heard storming into the apartment.

"Mikey wait-!!"

April's voice called out somewhat rushed as the footsteps drew closer to the living room followed by several others. He stiffened, desperately wanting to disappear. He was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. The turtle teen bit his lip hard the taste of copper filling his mouth as he braced himself for the inevitable humans. Instead what he got left him winded. The footsteps stopped in the doorway of the living room before a small gasp was heard. He looked up at the noise and felt the breath leave his lungs. Standing by the doorway was another turtle.

Just like him.

The turtle was frozen in the doorway, his baby blue eyes wide and stunned. Unshed tears were gathered in the corners of them and he wore a bright orange cloth around his eyes. Light green skin covered in freckles and twin weapons hung from his hips.

'Nunchucks.'

His brain supplied making him pause for a moment before the turtle in front of him was joined by others. His dark blue eyes went wide as two other turtles and a giant rat filled the room, their stares the same as the orange turtle. April and Casey were the last ones to join them. He sat there unable to process everything.

There was more of him.

He wasn't the only one.

"L-Leo....?"

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the orange turtle, who looked at him with a somewhat confused and broken look. A sudden swear made him snap his head away from him towards the other turtle.

"What the shell happened to him?!? Casey did you do this to him???"

The accented voice came out of the other turtle. This one was dark green in his skin, and had bright green eyes filled with confusion and anger. A red cloth was around his eyes and he too had weapons on his hips.

'Sais.'

His brain again supplied for him.

"Oh God Leo....! He's bleeding what the hell happened?!?"

The last turtle finally spoke up, his voice smooth yet high strung with barely concealed horror and anger. The last turtle had light green skin and was somewhat taller than the other two. He had reddish brown eyes and a purple cloth that surrounded them. His weapon however was on his back.

'Bo Staff.'

He felt himself getting annoyed with his brain supplying him with this knowledge that he didn't know before another voice this one soft and soothing spoke out.

"My son....what happened to you, who did this to you?"

He looked to the last figure in the room. The rat was older than the turtles and wore a dark colored rob and held a staff in his hand that he somewhat leaned on. His fur was a mixture of browns, whites and blacks and his eyes, a dark brown were looking at him with such a tender look that it made him flinch. The orange turtle moved towards him, a hand reaching out for him somewhat hesitantly.

"Bro.....?"

He asked softly his voice wavering as he went to touch him. The captive turtle looked at the group of unfamiliar faces, his eyes that were once full of panic narrowing into a threatening look when he noticed the orange one trying to touch him. A sudden silence filled the room as the air grew thick with sudden tension.

"I don't know who this Leo is but if you touch me so help me I will end you."

He spat out coldly, his eyes hard and indifferent. The orange turtle flinched harshly like he'd just been slapped. The other two turtles and the old rat froze, their expressions stunned for a moment. He continued to glare in a nasty manner refusing to show how afraid he truly was. April bit her lip and Casey swore. The swear caught the red turtle's attention, the once stunned expression turning into barely contained anger.

"You'd better start explaining Jones."

He snarled his green hues poisonous. Casey looked at the faces that were now staring at him and April before letting out a small exhausted sigh.

"Ya may want to sit down for this one Raph, cause it's a long story."

*Well then things took a rather upsetting turn didn't they? (I'm so sorry Mikey I didn't mean to hurt you baby boy-). Anyways we've finally gotten the fam reunited but it's unfortunately far from the happy reunion they were picturing sgdgdhfh. And our poor boy Leo is lowkey freaking out. Now for this story I want to make clear that it's not really set in a main universe. It's basically a little bit of all the Tmnt franchises I've seen. So while the boys have their 2012 versions looks they also have some of their other versions personalities like from 2003 to 1990 to 2018. Ya get the point, it's basically freeform and up to the reader to decide which one they wanna go with. I'm sorry I wasn't go at explaining that in the last chapter it was late when I'd posted it and I was tired lol. Anyways if any y'all read this I hope you enjoyed it!!!*

[junkrxt]

NAME: CYREX “JUNKRAT” KAIZEN GOES BY: JUNKRAT, REX, JUNKER. FACECLAIM: BERK ATAN AGE: 29 PRONOUNS: HE/HIM ZONE OF ORIGIN: ZONE 2 STATUS: MECHANIC @ CHQS & CHAOS JUNKER ON THE DL

TRAITS

+ PRECOCIOUS + SHARP WITTED + SLICK 

- CHAOTIC - DISORDERLY – TUMULTUOUS

HEADCANONS: 

Calloused fingers pick at the wrapping on Rex’s left hand, wet where an unhealed injury lies underneath. A honeyed crimson seeps through the brown-stained brace and the Junker’s stabbing his right thumb into the palm of his hand – stems the flow (so he imagines.) and eases the pain vibrating through his hand as it shakes under irritated tendons. There’s an abundance of cusses slipping from Kaizen’s lips that remind him that it’s his clumsy manner of battling through an uncharted junkpile; sharp is broken metal; like glass at its edges when a hand catches the tip ever so cleanly. He’s surrounded by chaos (that’s how everyone else would see it, at least.) when in fact, it’s an organised catastrophe of scrap and mechanical-potential. He’s sprawled on the roof of a broken vehicle, indented under the weight of the man and his gizmos as he looks at the rising sun above; streams of light reflecting off his steampunk-esque glasses that are strapped to his forehead and shield the rays that have every likelihood to burn his sockets – one of the more horrific of instances for a man who prides on reparations to sustain life.

Black boots thump on the concrete rooftop – Cyrex convinced that his hole-up of a headquarters (the one he doesn’t act like a screwed-on being for.) is on the collapse, every day, something new crops up that he’s tinkering together. Never is anything broken for too long, tarps overhead that form a blockade from overheating, a gentle whir in the background of a refrigerator-like device that he’s storing scraps in. Junkrat is the perfect calibre of a name – though, the tailed creatures that scutter along the floor between overgrown ivy would probably argue against the moniker. Not that Rex sees them as junk, but they’ve got a nice crunch – kind of like bone, some would say. He finds use for that too; perfect sounding alarm for little junk boobytraps that put him on the other end of a Raider’s alert.

Kaizen’s got a favourite rat, she’s called Tess, surname, Tickle.

Distinguished is his attire; braces, ripped, torn and an eyesore of a mechanic in the walls of CHQS. Though unquestionably talented when challenged in the art of techno talk and rather a soloist if it were chalked down to a performance. An old, carcinogenic aroma is distinct enough that it is only outweighed by burnt oil and rubber of the rover’s Rex is known to fasten together; call him a motorhead; will race you to any milestone; all territories and let unforgiving crashes be their end. It’s not obvious with how he behaves that the tinkerer is any gifted in the maintenance department; but he’ll outdo any upgrade with a toothpick and package tape and make it work if that’s the only things available.

BIOGRAPHY

There’s never a need for anything to be fixed if the world remains perfect. Those phrases that cover the ‘if it’s not broken don’t fix it’ never really apply to Amhaven – in Rex’s history, never has.

Never short is the demand for skilled hands; quick fingers that have developed based on a world gone mad.

Goggles on, sparks alight like fireworks spraying directly from the ends of Junkrat’s fingers; he’s constructing. Machinery in brutalised hands and a lazy kind of roll of his head side to side like he’s impatient to finishing this particular project. Always the mechanic, likes to think he’s often the best of them. Anyone else is a lesser – comes to be why he’s always remained fairly isolated, rooted himself in places nobody else dares risk; a building (like most of them in the concrete jungle) on the brink of collapse; perfect headquarters for privacy, to build a retreat from stolen tarps and sticks. Old timber that’s got such rot through it that even woodworm doesn’t want to touch it. Metal, bone and the world at the scrapper’s fingertips; his haven.

Kaizen remembers his early years – sort of, a collection of memories compiled of gathering trinkets and gizmos that he wrestled with concaved vehicles for. Once wore a truck’s steering wheel like it was a new age war accessory – popped out the centre, acted like he was some kind of Havoc (also, a stolen shredded zone one relic of a comic book that he lost in two days to his own fire friendly hands.) Though, it stuck, as did the vision of his first taste in the Junker, Raider clash – he’d never seen a nose pop like a grape til then either, splat; a sound that really buries deep into the core of anyone. Crunch of ivory beneath Ransacker’s boots that had once belonged to his guardians; mentors; parents and fast does Rex learn some things simply cannot be fixed with even the fastest, adroit fingers.

Death’s permanent – no fixing that.

Scrambles away from the wreckage, a slick coating of red that decorates skin and clings like oil to every crevasse. It stains, both physically and mentally and if souls were ever an interest to someone like Junkrat, it probably has a mark there too. If only as a fuel to the man’s vigilance to the way of being a junker; more than just shiny things and scrap metal to be forged and utilised to self-serving purposes, an adaptable lifestyle that Kaizen blossomed into and now – in adulthood, understands rivalry with R&R and all its complications.

Though, the chaos is also welcomed when Cyrex has his gadgets in place like mines on a field. He often watches with botched binoculars in one hand from the rooftop of an abadoned multi-storey, legs swung over the edge with something to snack on in his other hand. It’s like cinema, the way incoming Raiders intend to… raid – so Rex assumes, and there’s just explosions followed by traps that provide all levels of lethality. A kind of wry smile as he throws offchunks of meat into his mouth and chews with amusement as stolen trucks attempt to barrage in and end upturned in a ditch; flames dancing along the dry grass in some mad max-esque carnage.

Friday night entertainment at its finest.

Deserved after a hard working week as recruited mechanic at CHQS – ha.

But yes, he does do that too, snags a spot in the mechanic ranks and enjoys the minimal joyride of liberating labrats whilst he’s maintaining the safety of those traveling between. How he got there – questionable. What isn’t, is how adept he is at doing it. Therefore, the carbuncle that he is in homemade tarp cargos and some form of fabric adoring his torso; a kind of armouring of metal and scrap that seems haphazard in its placement (though entirely logical if Junkrat were to think on it) are certainly, even in Amhaven, not the best of business attire, but it works. The scrapper always remains glad that his only requirement in the building is maintenance; tinkering upgrades that have every kind of ability to be less lackluster, more dangerously eccentric.

Tess Tickle as his right hand lady; lucky charm; never does his tinkering fail.

Until well, sometimes, it does.

And he has to go back and repair it.

Cue the sounds of thunder when he approaches in his jacked rover with enough modifications that would kill half the zone if the vehicle were to explode. Don’t touch it, he’ll probably show you how many uses a screwdriver actually has.

CONNECTIONS

RAMESES "RA" EL AYOUBI | Other half; the Mother to the Rat Pack Collective where Junkrat’s the father. (In Rex’s opinion.) Chaos fuelled duo that has probably been responsible for at least sixty percent of both missing objects and rats that eventually end up in The Collective; living in the shared homebase (the one that’s not on Rex’s rooftop because... Ra says he needs... walls.) within a formerly desolate Chuck ‘E’ Cheese sign. Kaizen’s built a runway for the RPC out of it, a few acquired and repaired neon bulbs very reflective of Z1 in the odd letterings. Yes, Ra and Junkrat (more Junkrat... probably) are this delinquent-like at most times. And yes, they really did argue about walls; their first domestic one could say.  

FURTHER DEPTH

Named his rover/machine of a car, Hyena because, sometimes feral; sometimes doesn’t listen; often acts out and well; makes a lot of noise. 

Will greet you with a wrench in the shoulder, or a spanner to the stomach. Ultimately depends what he has in his hands when you look at him odd. 

Odd does indeed mean just be in his general vicinity. 

On a good day, he might grin and look more like he might either kiss you (not that you’d want to) or ask you to race him and Tess Tickle to the meeting room. Yes, the one he definitely should not be in. 

Almost always covered in grease, oil, lubricant, some other unidentified roadside substance and excess foodstuffs if not all at the same time. 

Don’t mention the smell. He can’t fix that, it’s natural. 

Probably replaces most civility with unpleasantries in regards to verbal communication, otherwise, he’s probably throwing peanuts at someone when waiting for something to boot up and he can work on it.

Generally goes by Junkrat due to many obvious traits, also does carry Tess Tickle around in a lil self-made backpack-like cage with a totally safe exercise wheel to keep her entertained during transport if she wants to go out on days. 

Yes, he talks to the rats, there’s a whole liberated Rat Pack Collective. Where did they all come from? Don’t worry about it. Ask Ra. 

Wears everything out of Mad Max, scraps of brown and dirtied attire that makes him look like a wilderness explorer; totally on brand, absolutely his style, the red stains... don’t recommend asking about those either. 

TBA

QUICK LINKS

THREADS

SELF PARAS

MUSINGS

CHQS