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aquietwritingcorner · 7 months ago

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TMNTStoryComp, Round One: To the Library!

(For @tmntstorycomp Round One Part 2 polls. Vote for Sanctuary here!)

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After receiving invitations, flowers, food, a card to a therapist—which Don saw Raph eyeing thoughtfully, before eyeing him, when he thought Don wasn’t looking—amongst other things, as well as bits and pieces of information, Raphael, Donatello, and Ms. Morrison had finally found a corner that felt relatively safe where they could sit down and compile what they knew.

“Alright,” Don said, pulling a notebook out of his duffle bag. “Let’s list what we’ve learned.”

Raph nodded, making sure that Ms. Morrison was comfortable and that Lucy was settled on her lap, before he let go of her and crossed his arms. “Well, for starters, we know that none of us are from here,” Raph said.

Don nodded. “Like a multiverse situation.”

“Multiverse?” Ms. Morrison asked, tilting her head.

“Yes, ma’am,” Don said. “In a nutshell, the multiverse is similar but not exact realities that exist at the same time. Think of it like when a group of people is asked to paint a bowl of fruit. Everyone will paint a bowl of fruit. But how each painting looks and what variations they paint of the fruits and the bowl will vary. They all still painted bowls of fruit. But each one is still different.”

“So, the people here, then, are different versions of people from our painting,” Ms. Morrison said.

“Exactly,” Don said, smiling.

Ms. Morrison hummed thoughtfully, clearing turning things over in her mind. “Thank you for explaining, Donatello,” she said.

“Not a problem,” Don said with a smile.

“Okay, so the multiverse is a given,” Raph said. “But we know that none of us came here willingly,”

Don nodded. “Right. Of the people we’ve talked to, it seems that we were all just here suddenly.”

“Including children, without their guardians,” Ms. Morrison said with a frown. “Although I heard that the nice man who gave you the card, Donatello, was looking after the children. We should check on them.”

“I’ll put a note by that,” Don said. “I’d like to talk to him again anyway. What else do we know?”

Ms. Morrison hummed. “Well, the young man who spoke to everyone earlier said this was some sort of competition.”

“Right.” Raph said. “But we don’t know what kind. Are we talking a fight? An exhibition? Parcheesi?”

“No one seemed to automatically assume that it would be violent,” Don said. “Although there are clearly some here that want it to be.”

“Yeah. As much as I like a good fight, I don’t like the fact that it would mean kids would be fighting,” Raph said.

“I don’t like the idea of you two fighting,” Ms. Morrison said. “You two are good boys. I don’t want you caught up in anything violent.”

Raph and Don exchanged a look.

“We appreciate that, Ms. Morrison,” Don said after a moment.

“Yeah, but if it comes down to it, don’t you worry,” Raph said. “We can take care of things.”

Don frowned. “Truthfully, I’d rather it didn’t come down to it either. Especially since it seems that some people here already have experience with other similar situations.”

“Yeah, I hear ya,” Raph said with a frown “We do got one other big piece of the puzzle.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “That guy is responsible for all of this.”

“That guy, who is just as much a puzzle as this place. We don’t even know his name yet,” Don said, his frown matching Raph’s as he glanced in the direction of the magical turtle. “And who apparently has some sort of magical ability.”

“Magic.” Ms. Morrison said. “I wouldn’t have believed such a thing before now. But I supposed if aliens exist, well, why not magic?” She tilted her head. “What does he look like?” she asked. “This young man?”

Raph and Don exchanged looks.

“Uh… well, kinda like a big turtle. Like a person-turtle,” Raph said. “His skin’s kinda an emerald green color, looks like his eyes are… orange? Or maybe a shade of yellow. He’s got some yellow stripes that seem to start on his head and go down his arms and legs. He’s got black… I guess you could call them skin-tight leg and arm warmers on, go up to his thighs and upper arms. He’s got poofy arm and leg warmers over that, yellow and orange, on opposite sides. He’s got a black mask with short mask tails over his eyes, and a necklace of some sort on. And…” Raph squinted. “Don, are his nails painted?”

Don blinked for a moment, pulled a set of binoculars out, looked and then nodded. “Yep. Alternating black and white.”

“Yeah,” Raph said. “He looks like a troublemaker.”

“He sounds like a child,” Ms. Morrison said.

“His necklace is a skull,” Don said, still looking through his binoculars. “And I don’t know if you noticed, Raph, but when he did his magic or whatever that was, his stripes turned black, with a yellow outlines to them. And they almost looked like they were giving off… circles? Blobs?... that float away.” He frowned. “I wonder if that speaks to the way his magic works, as if maybe he has to give part of himself away when does—uh oh.”

Raph and Ms. Morrison tensed.

“Uh-oh?” Raph said.

“Yeah, his stripes are starting to turn black again and—” Don put down the binoculars, stuffed everything in his bag, and reached out to hold onto Raph and Ms. Morrison while she held onto Lucy. “Hang on, he’s doing something!”

The world moved and swirled around them, and Raph and Don both tightened their grip on Ms. Morrison, just in case the chair she was sitting on suddenly disappeared. Fortunately, it didn’t seem to, but when the world resolved itself, they were standing in—

“A library?” Raph said, looking around, astonished.

“A library!” Don proclaimed eagerly.

“A library,” Ms. Morrison hummed, holding onto her cat. “Well, once again I’m afraid that I won’t be much help to you boys here.”

“Not necessarily,” Don said. “There’s more than one way to gather information, or to compile and understand it. Something tells me that you can be a help to us that way.”

“And something tells me that you’re about to go crazy in here, Brainiac,” Raph said, reaching down to help Ms. Morrison up from her chair.

Don grinned at his brother. “You know me so well.” He reached over to pull a book from a shelf, and looked at it, surprise blooming on his face.

“What is it?” Raph asked.

“There’s no title or anything on the cover,” Don said. He opened it. “And it seems to be blank.” He reached for another one. “This one has a partial title on it, but the inside is incomplete.”

Raph looked around, putting Ms. Morrison’s hand on Don’s arm while he moved to a nearby railing. He could look down over the library that way, and he surveyed it, quickly.

“Well, obviously all of them aren’t that way,” he called back to his brother and the elderly woman. “I see people reading.”

Don and Ms. Morrison walked up to him, Don frowning. “So, some books are blank, some are partial, and some are complete.”

“But why?” Ms. Morrison asked.

Don hummed. “I have a theory, but no proof.” He looked at Raph. “We need to split up. Here.” He reached into his duffle and pulled out the pad and pencil from earlier. “Go look. See what books are complete and which ones aren’t. See what people are reading. Write it down. I’m going to do the same, and we can compare. We can meet up in the kid’s section in an hour. It seems to be fairly central.”

“Raphael,” Ms. Morrison said, tapping on his arm. “Why don’t you take me there first? Donatello can go ahead and get started, and I can stay there.”

“I ain’t leaving you alone,” Raph said. “You can’t read, but you can still help.”

“I will be helping,” she said. “If it’s central, then people will be passing through there. I can listen for information.” She gave them an amused smile. “My sense of hearing is pretty sharp for an old woman. Besides,” she said, petting Lucy, “A cat is bound to get people to stop.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Don said.

Raph frowned, clearly not entirely happy with the idea. “Donnie. Ya got an extra shell cell on you?”

Don nodded, already digging through his bag. “Excellent idea, Raph.”

Raph took it as soon as Don handed it to him, and he placed it in Ms. Morrison’s hands. “This is another one of our phones. Don builds ‘em for the fun of it.” He guided her hands over it. “If you need us, press this button right here, and we’ll come back as quick as we can, alright?”

“Alright,” Ms. Morrison said. “But I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Just humor me, okay, Ms. M?” Raph said.

She smiled indulgently at him. “Of course, dear.”

Don nodded. “Okay, so then we’re splitting up?”

Raph nodded. “I’ll get Ms. M down to the kid’s section and settled. But Don—be careful.”

“You three, as well,” Don said. “I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

“Don’t lose track of time,” Raph warned.

The group split up then, Don quickly heading to start working on his theory, Raph escorting Ms. Morrison to the children’s section and making sure that she and Lucy were settled before he started his own exploration.

Hopefully, the group would find some useful information here. After all, there were still lots of competitors to talk to.

#tmntstorycomp #tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt ms. morrison #go vote for sanctuary!

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boots-with-the-fur-club · 7 months ago

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Some oddly marked turtles bring treats to fellow competitors of the @tmntstorycomp! :D

Dr. Rude takes several cookies and a muffin, stuffing his face.

“Finally! Ones who can bake! You guys don’t mind if I take some more, right?” He reaches back again.

#inverted confrontation #tmntstorycomp

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daboyau · 7 months ago

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Some oddly marked turtles bring treats to fellow competitors of the @tmntstorycomp! :D

“What are these called?” Four asked, wide eyed with delight as he accepted the baked goods. Draxum had always been strict with their diets, and other than extraction days usually limited them to nutri-bars and plain water. The smell wafting from the offered food made his mouth water, but he still hesitated to actually eat it yet.

Two was circling the newcomers, eyes narrowed and assessing as he examined their markings from a safe distance. Four could practically see the thoughts and the theories running through his mind. He and Three both got that funny look on their faces when their brains were tick-tick-ticking away. He moved like a predator, nose wrinkling as he sniffed the air, lips pulled down into a frown as he watched them. Four wondered what he was seeing.

“Muffins,” the one that looked a little like Three said, hoisting his still warm pan a little higher. He had a strange grin on his face, a little like he was confused by the question, and a little like it made him sad. Four didn’t really get it, but his own brother made the same expression sometimes so he guessed it must just be a Three thing.

“And cookies,” the one that looked like Two added, gently elbowing his brother to get him to step a little to the side so he could address Four. Even though the words were directed at him, his mismatched eyes were following Two’s route as he continued to slowly circle them, brushing close to Four as he passed by, like a silent reassurance that they were both still fine.

“I can’t wait to try them!” Four said, grinning brightly. On Two’s next pass, he reached out to snag his arm, stopping his unintentional menacing of their fellow turtles. Two huffed his displeasure at being grabbed, and Four let go.

“Thank you for the food,” he said, copying the little hefting motion he’d seen the Three-lookalike do earlier. “I think we’ll all really like it!”

With a final smile and a little wave, he and Two headed off to go find their brothers so they could split the treats between them.

#tmntstorycomp #rottmnt #leave/remain au #comp propaganda #Leave AU Extras

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tothefiniteyou · 7 months ago

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Before him sits his father, contemplative as ever. His calculative and beady eyes are fixed on something Leonardo can't see, roaming around occasionally as a memory or something resembling a plan plays out.

They've done this countless times, so today should be no different. It shouldn't. It really shouldn't.

The air is somehow stale and frigid despite their close proximity. You would think nobody had inhabited this room in ages, yet it's the opposite; they've been here for far too long, the months blurring together. All the same, it's still devoid of any life.

Just a father and son, together, yet miles apart.

"Miss O'Neil and Casey are leaving soon. That means it is our time to depart as well, my son."

It's said solemnly, his father finally prying his attention from whatever mirage is occupying his mind. There's an apologetic look in his eyes, swimming and fighting for purchase amongst the sea of finality.

"You're not coming with us."

It should be a question, but it isn't. It's a statement. Leonardo was honed into a weapon of analytical precision - a strategist. Always, always thinking, his brain. He's grown up in some ways, able to detect the words the rat loves to leave unsaid. Unsaid and silent; that is his father.

Leonardo hears it all anyway.

"No, I won't," his father says, clawed hand tightening its hold on his walking aid. It's a telltale sign that leaves no room for discussion.

Arguing would go nowhere, but Leonardo wants it to.

'May I ask why' clings to the tip of his tongue along with a childish plea, coating his mouth like the carefully concealed ire it is. He was taught never to question his father, and he's always been a perfect student. Obedience is etched into his character. It's an urge to be useful, so utterly desperate to prove himself that it's enough to choke and suffocate on.

Training and habits die hard, or so the saying goes. Instead of letting the betraying words escape, Leonardo simply closes his eyes in resigned acceptance. He knew from the beginning that things would be end up this way.

It's another lesson he's meant to grasp and conform to, akin to a blade still being forged and shaped to perfection. Accepting this task and finishing what was started more than a decade ago is what he's meant to do. If he does this, he'll be the ideal leader he's been working towards for years.

"I understand."

Binding words that can't be taken back.

His father smiles. It's the same smile full of pride in his son that he had given him after the Shredder's attack. It's a rare honor to be bestowed with.

But somewhere deep down, Leonardo feels the twinge of rebellion that Raph is so wont to respond to, coiling around his insides in a grotesque embrace. He's never really understood that call, always coming to his father's defense and holding him back.

Today, however, he thinks he's beginning to understand. Too much of anything can wrongfully temper a blade, often falling just short of expectations.

Love me, Love my Dog is set to be a part of the TMNT story comp over on @tmntstorycomp (voting starts next week!) and oooh boy am I struggling to think of propaganda elkjagklfd :'D I figured what better way to start than with a little excerpt taking place before the story?

This might be a little early, but it gets the ball rolling. Hopefully that entails giving me ideas as the date approaches

#2u writing #tmntstorycomp #tmntstorycomp propaganda #tmnt 1984 #tmnt mirage #tmnt city at war #tmnt

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los-ninos-tortugas · 7 months ago

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"Status report..."

"Donatello," Janeway's voice rings out from his communicator. "Mr. Hamato, do you hear me? Status report?" Donnie taps his combadge.

"Well, Captain, a library has spawned from nothing." Okay he really should have addressed this earlier, especially considering how everyone else seemed to be gravitating towards it, but in all fairness to him he's been a little distracted since he got here.

"A library?" Captain Janeway inquired. Donnie, entranced, stared up at the structure that had been written into existence. He started forward. "Donatello list-- I want you t--o wait for T--ok and Sam. Do not --- I repeat --- enter alone---"

The sound from his communicator cut off abruptly as he crossed the threshold. Donnie tapped the combadge several times only to be met with an aborted beep. He huffed out through his nose. Silence in the library, I guess. he thought to himself. Welp, onwards and upwards.

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"Scans confirm this as his last known location," Tuvok states. Sam puts her hands on her hips and sighs through her nose.

"I should've guessed. And scans and comms don't work inside the library?"

"It would appear not."

"Then I guess we're doing this the old fashioned way."

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well if it isn't some extremely late propaganda for the @tmntstorycomp (the beginning of finals season- among other things- and all that jazz lol)

is the poll ending in ohh *checks invisible watch* about nine-ish hours at the time I'm writing this? Yeah. But I didn't want to let it pass by without acknowledging the theme at all. I don't think Donnie and the Voyager fam will be winning this one (shout out to @haro0o 's AU, I think it's really cool & unique and I really like the art you've done for it) tbh I was just excited for my first comp no matter what happened. Live long and prosper <3

#tmnt story comp #tmnt competition #tmnt propaganda #set a course for home #rottmnt donnie #star trek voyager #rottmnt #black and brown fur au #tmntstorycomp

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tmntstorycomp · 4 months ago

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In the end.

Massy felt aimless, suspended in a pool of his own making. His fingers itched, a burning to reach for the pen and try to write his way out of this one. With his words, he could free them all. His words were his promise to get everyone home, all the friends he had made. He could save them.

But his hands remained steady, extended far above him as he tried to find anyone. There would be no point to grab his pen and notepad, to write a simple escape that would solve all their problems. The words would simply disappear into the void he created.

Funny, wasn’t it?

The effort he had expended for all of this was now going to eat him alive. His skin already felt like it was dissolving, mixing with the energy that swirled around him. It would be funny to be consumed by it. Ink didn’t have problems, it simply existed. It morphed to your will and refused to be anything but permanent. Unapologetically on the pages, staining the world in which we see it.

Wouldn’t it be funny to be so permanent?

The warmth in the ink was fading, the sounds of crying in his ears was so close that he didn’t even realize they were his own.

He reflected on his past. To all the friends he had made here. It was odd, he wouldn’t give that up. Seeing versions of his family who were so young, so uninhibited, so damaged. They were strong, but they weren’t the turtles that Massy knew. They were softer, more guarded.

He wondered if they hated him now, he hoped they did. Massy didn’t know where they were, spread out into the beyond. Who knows, maybe they were already home. But if they hated him, then they wouldn’t miss him. And that would make it easier to justify never having to see them again.

“Come on, Massy, you’re going to be okay.”

Massy hummed, the distant voice grew louder. He smiled, thinking of his father. The look of hurt in his expression when Massy held up the letters to his face. Massy felt guilt course through his body.

Massy had felt curious for awhile. He had known his mother wasn’t in his life, but he wanted to know more. He had asked anyone he could think to ask about it, but got a wide range of answers that ultimately lead him to nowhere.

Uncle Raph would get all nervous when he asked. He would say that his mother was very kind but it was so long ago he couldn’t remember. Massy thought that was a load of crap given that Uncle Raph would be more than happy to tell Massy about the good ole days in his attempts to inspire Massy to be a better person. It seemed that Uncle Raph was trying to preserve something, but the young turtle couldn’t figure out what. So, no luck there.

Uncle Donnie would flat out say they weren’t allowed to talk about her. They would carry a different expression, angered at the prospect of her mere existence. Massy tried to figure out why they were so angry, but Uncle Donnie would just push him out of the lab and tell him to come back later with better questions. Massy never had any.

Uncle Leo wouldn’t answer at all. He would just laugh and tell Massy to stop worrying about what wasn’t there and focus on what was. He didn’t have a mom, but neither did Uncle Leo and he turned out fine. But Massy had an entire family who loved him and took care of him, couldn’t that be enough? Massy didn’t know why it wasn’t.

Auntie April would fume, much like Uncle Donnie, but she didn’t hold back her words. She didn’t actually tell Massy anything he wanted to know, but she would grab him by the face and tell him that he didn’t need her. If she didn’t bother being in his life, he didn’t need her there. She would kiss him on the forehead and Massy would forget what he asked in the first place.

But Dad would tell him something completely different. Dad would say that she simply disappeared one day and he had hopes she would come back. She was beautiful, kind, loving. She was a fantastic person. But Massy could see the sadness in his dad’s eyes everytime, so he tried not to ask.

He wanted answers, but no one would give them to him. He snuck into his dad’s room while he was making dinner. Massy searched the closet and through some of his dad’s old sketchbooks, trying to find any piece of the puzzle he was missing. He tried to ignore the sketches of darkness that invaded some of the pages.

Ultimately, he flopped into the old yellow beanbag, wrapping himself up in the tattered shawl that his father would wear. He lightly kicked at the carpet, letting his eyes gaze around the familiar space-

Until they stopped on an old, worn out shoe box that lay under the bed. Massy moved to grab it, pulling it into his lap as he opened it up. The first thing he saw was a picture of a woman. A blue lizard woman who looked so tired but so happy. It was a candid shot of her on the couch, trying to tie ribbons onto her tail.

Massy flipped the polaroid over to see the writing on the back.

“My Taina learns the beauty of having a tail!”

My Taina.

Massy flipped the photo back over and stared at her. The fins on her arms. Massy’s fingers brushed against his arm warmers, feeling the identical fin beneath the fabric.

There was no denying that this was his mother. He looked through a few more pictures, looking at how young and happy they were. They were smiling in every photograph, they looked in love. Massy couldn’t help but smile to himself, maybe his father was right.

But then he found a new picture with a new member of the family. He’d never seen this picture before, his eyes growing wide.

His parents and the little baby they held between them. Massy stared at himself, at the bright blue hands that held him secure.

It was hard to imagine she once held him. He couldn’t remember her at all, and yet he could almost imagine her hand on his arm. His eyes flickered to his father, and he sighed. Dad had always told him how the day he was born was the best day of his life. But then Massy drifted over to her and his blood went cold.

Why did she look like that?

Why did she look so.. Unhappy? She looked scared. Massy kept digging through the pictures and saw the change in pattern. No longer did his mother look happy in all the photos. Now, even when she smiled, there was something hollow within it.

And what had changed? Massy was born.

He tried to ignore the ache in his chest at the realization. His mom wasn’t happy with him. Did she hate him? Did she regret him? Massy had no answers, but he reached for the final few papers in the box.

The infamous letters.

Massy poured over the words again and again, trying to process what they could mean. Why would she write two very different letters? Why would she leave him?

“Massy, what are you doing in here, firefly?”

The young turtle turned his head to see his father standing in the doorway. His eyes were wide, guilt overtaking his expression.

And the fight started.

Massy yelled at his father, asking him why he would lie. Why would he dare tell Massy that his mother- That Taina was a good person at all.

His dad would try to argue back, to justify himself.

“I didn’t want you to hold anger towards her,”

“She truly did love you,”

“I just want us to move on,”

Massy laughed, bitter and angry, at the last one. How could he even begin to move on from this. He finally knew who his mother was and her tired, sad expression was etched into his brain.

Was that how he always saw her?

Dad had tried to reach for the tearstained letter, but Massy held it tight.

“He’s a screeching monster of tears and snot.”

The words stuck out on the page. She hated him. She always hated him, clearly. And how dare his father keep this letter?

And Massy reacted out of anger.

“I hate you! I wish I was never even born!”

His dad stood frozen, staring at him as he tried to process how to proceed. But Massy didn’t stay to see the damage he had caused. He didn’t want to know he was truly the monster she thought he was.

Massy shoved past him, stuffing the letter away as he ran to his room and shut himself away. He cried, his body shaking as he grabbed the old magical pen he had snatched from his father days before and he wrote out-

“I want a place where no one can find me. Where everything is under my control.”

Massy’s eyes opened, a small smile gracing his lips. That last half really fell through, didn’t it?

Slowly, Massy pulled the letter out from his sleeve, holding it up and letting go. It drifted away from him, the black ink sinking into the old paper and corrupting the words. They disappeared.

“Masaccio!”

Suddenly, the page burst into an orange flame, the ashes swirling in the ink. The sudden light exploded, forcing the ink back into the void to create a pocket of hope. The light swirled, energy crackling at the edges in a manner that was all too familiar.

A figure pushed through the light looking around frantically for something. It was hard for Massy to make out, but he reached out, desperate-

The hand grabbed his, pulling him out of the ink. Arms enveloped his body and Massy pushed his face into the familiar body. The smell of ink was quickly replaced by the sweet smell of old paints. The strong notes of incense that still burned Massy’s nose no matter how many times he smelled it.

“It’s okay, Massy, daddy’s got you..”

Massy gripped the other turtle’s body, his own shaking with broken sobs as he clung on. His eyes squeezed tightly shut.

The ink, burned by the energy of the portal, started to recede. It sank lower and lower, the tendrils trying desperately to grab at the small turtle but were ultimately banished back.

Mikey slowly sank to the floor with his son, landing on the bright white plane with his son in his arms. It was back to normal, no signs of libraries or woods or buildings. Just an empty white void with a crowd of recently undrowned bystanders.

“I’m sorry, dad, I didn’t mean it..” Massy spoke softly and Mikey only tightened his hold.

“I know, Massy, I know.. It’s okay, we can talk about it when we get home,” He spoke softly and pressed a kiss to Massy’s temple.

Massy nodded and pulled his head away in order to look at all the people around them. “I don’t know how to send them home…” He admitted softly.

Mikey looked around, he could feel the energy coming off of every single one of them. Different universes all pulled into one location. His hands gripped Massy’s shoulders and he nodded, “Yes you do, come on, believe in yourself,”

Massy stepped away to pull his notepad from his pocket, grabbing the pen. He lifted it up then paused, looking at all the people.

Permanence.

These strokes of his pen could not be reversed, they could not be altered. He could not take back the words.

“I’m sorry I trapped you all here and forced you to play my games. But I.. I had fun. I hope you all had fun too. Maybe.. Maybe one day we can all come back and play again. But.. I have to go home now, and so do you, so.. Goodbye!”

Massy dotted his sentence with a period and suddenly inky portals opened up all around them. Contestants started to shuffle back to their respective dimensions, but Massy was caught off guard by the small group of turtles who pulled him into a group hug.

“You better come visit! Well.. Maybe after you’re not grounded anymore.” One of the Leo’s said, followed by a metal hand coming down to pat his head. The group dispersed, all talking amongst themselves as they planned their next adventure and Massy smiled to himself. Maybe he could come visit.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him back to reality and Massy looked back to see his father smiling down at him.

“Let’s go home, my son.”

Massy’s small smile turned into a large grin and he leapt into his father’s arms, the two tumbling back through the portal where Mikey had emerged.

The white void was left empty, nothing occupied the space except for a small piece of note paper that read “Until next time” along with a small pile of ashes.

#tmntstorycomp #tmntstorycomp masaccio #tmntstorycomp lore #tmntstorycomp finale #Thank you all for joining us :)#There is no more puzzles #There may be more content for Masaccio coming soon but this is the end of the tmntstorycomp #We love you #Until next time :)

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