#FUCK I miss this scraggly guy

[sincerelywhistler]

“who do you belong to?”

If I told you that Regulus’s design was inspired by shaggy old English sheepdogs would you believe me—

[erikahenningsen]

prompt: fake dating, rejanis or fetchen with some oblivious pining (and the rest of their friends losing their minds over it)

i know it's cliche but i'm a sucker for the trope lmao hope you're doing well! (sorry to hear about your bro as well, hope his surgery goes okay and he gets better soon 🙏)

If Regina is honest with herself, she hates bars. They're loud, they're dark, and they're full of people, many of whom need to be introduced to a stronger deodorant.

This bar in particular attracts rowdy sports fans—Regina's least favorite category of people—but Shane loves it here, if only for the foosball tables they have in the back. And she's been dodging his requests to go out for weeks now. Being here now means he'll leave her alone for a little while.

Regina would be much happier at home on her couch with a book, but instead she's here, sipping her drink at the bar while Shane participates in some foosball tournament that's been going on for half an hour now.

She drains her drink and leaves it on the bar top, deciding to head to the restroom, if only to get a break from the crowd. She's almost made it to the staircase at the back that leads down to the bathrooms when she hears something.

"I said no, asshole."

"Come on, just have one drink with me."

Regina stops. There's a guy who looks like his picture would be in the dictionary next to the word sleazy. He's leaning against the edge of the bar, blocking a girl in with the mass of his body—which doesn't seem hard to do, considering how petite the girl is.

"Sure," the girl, with her back turned to Regina, says sarcastically. "But know that it would be your last."

Wait. Regina knows that voice. Why does she know that voice?

"Now fuck off," the girl says, turning away and—

It's Janis. Their eyes lock, and Regina watches the surprise morph into confusion and then into something... a little pleading.

"Hey, babe," Regina says before she can think it through, stepping up and wrapping an arm around Janis's shoulders. "I've been looking for you."

Regina can feel the way Janis tenses, and she throws Regina a look that clearly says what are you doing? Regina raises her eyebrows in response.

"Oh, yeah... hey," Janis says, forcing a smile. "Long bathroom line?"

"The worst," Regina confirms. Then she looks at the guy like she's just noticing his presence. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Chad," Janis says.

"What? No it isn't," not-Chad says.

"It's nice to meet you, Chad," Regina says, faux-sweet.

"Who the hell are you?" not-Chad asks irritably.

Regina looks at him with disinterested disdain. "Her girlfriend."

The guy narrows his eyes, seemingly not buying it. For some reason, it matters to Regina that this man believes this, so she plants a kiss on Janis's cheek. Regina tries to ignore how she can feel that Janis's jaw is clenched.

"Whatever," the guy grumbles. "You're a three at best, anyway." Then he shoulders past them and stalks away.

Regina briefly entertains a fantasy where she pulls out the hairs on not-Chad's scraggly beard, one by one.

Janis wastes no time in shrugging off Regina's arm, which for an incomprehensible reason, kind of hurts. She misses the warmth of the contact immediately. There's an unsettled feeling in Regina's stomach, and her lips are tingling, like she can still feel Janis's soft, warm cheek under them.

"Isn't it funny how a woman is the most beautiful girl a guy's ever seen right up until she rejects him?" Janis muses. "Anyway, I don't need you to fight my battles."

Regina rolls her eyes. "That's the worst thank-you I've ever heard."

"I had it covered," Janis insists, and in the dim light, Regina thinks she can spot a blush on Janis's face.

"Janis, that guy was twice your size," Regina says. "What are you even doing here, anyway?"

Janis shrugs. "Their burgers are really good. They make the clientele worth it. Most of the time."

"Are you regularly harassed by large men here?" Regina asks, feeling strangely concerned.

"Some of them are medium-sized."

Regina huffs. The idea that men are hitting on Janis bothers her, a slight tug of anxiety in her stomach.

"Well... just be careful," Regina says.

"You got it, mom," Janis replies.

A person appears across the bar with a paper takeout bag and hands it to Janis.

"My quest here is complete," Janis says. "Sorry to break up with you so soon."

"If you ever need me again, you can text me," is what comes out of Regina's mouth for some reason.

Janis peers at her. "Are you trying to ask me out?

"What?" Regina says, too quickly and too loudly. "No, of course not."

Janis just smirks at her, the way she always does when she thinks she's needled her way under Regina's skin.

"Don't be too jealous," Janis says, taking her bag and walking away.

Regina stands and watches her go until she can't see Janis anymore. What was she even doing? She suddenly can't remember. Oh, yes—the restroom.

Good. She feels like she needs to splash some cool water on her face.

[trick-or-fucking-treat]

The Knife in You Brings Out the Life in Me - Danny Johnson x Reader

Masterlist

Prologue ~

Summary:

Y/n was never close with her cousin Billy and hadn’t seen him in years, but when he shows up at her roadside home, running from the law and with a Stu on his arm, she figures it’s best to let him stay. He wouldn’t.. gut her? Right? Best not take any chances! The real kicker, however, is when their inspiration - the real and original Ghostface - shows up. She has less faith he’ll let her live if she isn’t careful.

"How could this happen? Am I dreaming again? Her body's not moving I'm assuming she's dead"

- The Greatest Story Ever Told, Ice Nine Kills

———

"Fuck, Billy! What'd we do now?" Stu stressed, knife in hand, gesturing wildly.

"Well... our face is on every news station, too many people around here know who we are." Like Stu, Billy still wore his shitty dollar store Ghostface costume, albeit their masks were tossed off to the side. Both were covered in blood, Billy slightly more so, and Billy was trying to keep his cool while Stu made every effort to panic.

"Ok, so.. we need to lie low?"

"Exactly. I have a rich cousin who doesn't live far from here, but still pretty out of the way. She's a recluse, we won't be bothered there... assuming she'll take us in."

After pulling off their first couple murders scot free, Billy and Stu decided they couldn't let the thrill go. Of course it was going to bite them in the ass eventually, but how were they supposed to know karma is a cold hearted bitch? Welp! They sure do now...

Their latest victim managed to get away, and while she didn't see their faces, she was damn sure she knew the killers. The two slash happy teens had taken a hit at another one of their classmates who they weren't too fond of, and they got cocky. Gave a hint hint, wink wink, at who they were behind the masks to scare the poor victim into thinking she was going to get her guts spilled by the guys who sit across the classroom to her in chemistry. It's all part of the thrill!

Except this time the bitch got away and ran to the police.

Stu was quiet for a moment before another thought occurred to him. "What about... you know who..? How will he find us if we drop off the map?"

"For all we know Danny's watching us right now! He's probably laughing about us fucking up.. he'll find us or he won't, that's up to him. Right now we need to get out of dodge."

———

Danny Johnson. The original Ghostface. Billy and Stu thought they were funny copycatting such a famous psycho. He was their role model of sorts.

Things changed when good ol' Jed Olsen started being pally with Billy and Stu, though. He was older. Sort of came out of nowhere. Knew things he shouldn't have known.

At first the pair were worried he knew what they were up to and just needed confirmation before going to the police, but Jed seemed to find it more funny than anything. He had this energy about him that made them cautious.

One night they were getting ready to start stalking another future victim (Miss run-away-and-blab-to-the-police funnily enough) when they got a phone call.

"Do you like scary movies?" The familiar staticky voice had spoken. "Who am I kidding? Of course you do! Why else would you both be starring in one? The question is... are you really the predators? Or are you actually... the prey?" The line had gone dead a moment later.

But when they shared a slightly concerned glance and decided to continue to leave for their midnight hobby, they opened the door to see a matching - though much more pristine mask  - staring back at them.

The Ghostface at the door didn't wear a cheap, scraggly, dollar store Halloween costume like Billy and Stu. He wore thick, black, sturdy material with straps and combat boots. Ohhh fuuuuuck... this guy is serious.

Danny gave them a good scare and let them fear for their lives for a while. Danny's a better killer than them. More experienced. More ruthless, and far more premeditated. But despite planning on killing them at first (they stole his entire thing, they couldn't get away with it, Danny had been planning this for a while) in the moment, he saw potential in them. Also they were a good laugh.

From then on, Danny took them under his wing and turned up when he felt like it to guide them in stalking and nurture their talent for murder.

Danny wasn't typically the kind of guy to help out other killers, especially ones who steal his likeness, but these guys had the same raw psychopathy that Danny sees in himself. And also, what the hell, he gets bored, they buy him free meals, they treat him like a god, what's not love!

And so Billy and Stu met their hero and dedicated their time to someday be as great as him. (Danny knew they'd never live up to him, he can always kill 'em when they get boring).

But now they've fucked up. Their victim got away. Danny's laughing and hiding in a bush somewhere vowing to never let them live it down. And Billy and Stu are hitching a ride to Billy's cousins place, hoping y/n will look past the blood and murder and let them crash for a little while.

———

A/N: ok this is the prologue for my new fic! Now I know I've written fuck all in a long time, and I apologise to anyone who's been waiting on updates to my other fics if you've read any, but I've got to go where the inspiration takes me!

I hope you enjoyed this little intro and please leave a comment if you have any ideas!

Have a great day/night,

~ trick-or-fucking-treat

[heartfullofleeches]

hi! I said I’d think of an ask for Silas or the soldier guy, and the best I could think of was how would they act around a pet, like a cat or something, that always challenges them for readers attention, (I think you’ve done this with some of your other ocs before) like the soldier fella comes back after being away from home just for his spot in bed to be taken by the cat or something, much to readers delight.

I just thought of another idea that I’ll send in another time while writing this lol, dont want to spam asks😅, hope your days going well and take your jolly time with this :)

Solider Guy

Your husband pockets his tool bag as he heads to the bedroom. You always forget to send him a copy of the keys when you move. He eases the door open to find his lovely spouse curled up on their side of the bed, accompanied by a new friend.

A scraggly little black cat missing part of its ear lays snuggled up beside you on what appears to be a nest made out of his clothes. Your husband walks over and kneels beside the bed, inspecting the cat's collar.

The front of the collar reads "Wuss". Turning it over, he reads aloud. "If lost, please contact Y/n Garcia."

He grins. "Guess that makes me your Dad, huh? I can already tell you'll be a handful, but I'd rather have my sweetheart seek comfort from family than someone else."

Silas

Silas glares savagely at the little cat in your lap. It's been two hours. When is he gonna get his turn? That little shit is taking his place and trying to mark claim on his territory. At least he had the upper hand with the various bite marks he left on you.

The cat paws at your hand as you reach for the remote, nicking you with their claws.

"Ouch! Be careful, kitty." A raised line appears on your skin. That does it.

Silas pulls you into a headlock without actually choking you, dragging you into the back of the couch as his tongue smacks against your cheek. He had been crouching behind it this whole time, waiting for you to pay attention to him. The sudden jerk makes your cat jump off your lap and run off. He continues to nip and lap at your face as you reach out for them.

"That's right, bitch. They're mine."

You dodge his next bite. "Silas!- what the fuck, dude?"

"Relax, Doll. I'm just staking my mark on you so that cat knows it's place in this house."

"He's my pet, your my boyfriend!

"Ex-fucking-actly."

[pedgito]

Hi! I saw this in a prompt list and thought it might be cute, immediately thought of Eddie munson.

“You broke into my apartment drunk thinking it was your friend’s house and I should call the cops but my cat kinda likes you so we’re good”

author’s note: i love giving my brain a break from smut for adorable prompts like these, so thank you!! i saw this and had to write it haha, it’s so perfect.

cw: sfw, meet-cutes, slightly mean!reader, cats loving eddie for no reason, steve being an annoying neighbor, mentions of drinking, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 1.3k

You could’ve sworn you locked your door—every night, on the way to your room, just a simple turn of the lock and you were secure—not tonight, apparently. The day was long and exhausting and you ended up falling asleep on the couch half-dressed in your pajamas after a shower, an over-sized shirt covering your thighs to leave you some decency to the underwear hidden beneath.

It’s a small jingle to the doorknob that startles you, swearing that it’s all in your head—or that Steve was having another one of his wild nights and lost his keys, it’s why he left an extra in your apartment.

You didn’t know him incredibly well, but after being his neighbor for two years there was a weird bond of trust, that and he gave you free rentals every week when you came into the store, he was actually a pretty sweet guy despite his disregard for noise when it came to neighbors.

You heave a heavy sigh, peeking your eyes open to watch the shadow under the door as it stumbles clumsily, their weight shifting against it as if they slipped—it startled your cat, a scraggly black and grey feline that was always either sleeping or ripping up your furniture. It was a rocky love and hate relationship, most of the love attempting to be forced on your end while there was mostly hate being received in response. He climbs over your head and plops onto the floor, shoving himself under the couch and away from whatever predator lurked beyond.

“I feed you, take care of you—you’re such an asshole.” You call after him, leaning up from the couch to stomp toward the door and yell at whoever was waiting on the other side—but that never happens.

The door opens before you get a chance to move, the dimness of the room making it impossible to clock who it is at first glance, your eyes squinting to make out the shape of them.

It dawns on you quickly—that definitely wasn’t Steve.

There’s a low curse as they step on one of your cats scattered toys, nearly slipping as they slapped their hand against the wall to catch themselves. Normally, your first instinct would be to scream, run, either of the two would work—but all signs were pointing elsewhere and you couldn’t help but watch on in amusement, waiting for the person to realize they might’ve stepped into the wrong apartment. It wasn’t like you were hooking up with anyone lately, let alone bring them home.

“Why the fuck—“ The voice huffs, kicking the toy to the side as they regained their balance, “Steve, did you get a fucking cat?”

And that explains it.

“No, he didn’t.” You reply with amusement, pushing up on your hands until the blanket falls to your waist, hair bemused from sleep—there was no telling how ridiculous you looked right now.

Eddie shouts, “Jesus, dude—who the hell are you?”

The door falls shut without Eddie’s doing and the silence is deafening.

“The owner of this apartment.” You point out, doing an obvious scan of the apartment until it clicks in his brain, his eyes widening in both shock and embarrassment.

“Holy shit—I am so—“

Your cat jumps out then, circling the stranger’s feet curiously. Your face scrunched up in annoyance as he betrayed you once again, finding safety in a stranger rather than you.

Eddie forgets what he’s saying, leaning down to pet at the cat’s soft fur, “Oh hey, little guy,” The cat purrs softly, nudging his head into his palm, “did I scare you?”

“Not to interrupt, but I still have every reason to call the cops on your right now,” You remind him, shoving the blanket away to scamper toward him, forgetting your severe lack of clothing to grab at your car, hurling him up into your arms, “the least you could do is introduce yourself.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, shifting to your face immediately.

“Uh—Eddie. Munson. Steve’s friend.” He explains quickly, “The light’s out in the hall—and I’m a little drunk if I’m being honest, I guess I got the numbers mixed up.”

You huff a laugh at that, feeling your cat wiggle from your grasp until he could paw at Eddie, jumping the distance to snuggle into Eddie’s waiting arms, sensing the need before it even happened.

“Well, Steve’s friend Eddie Munson,” You say dramatically, “you seem to be the only person my cat doesn’t despise—so I won’t call the cops, not yet.”

On cue, the tiny fury betrayer rubs against Eddie’s jacket, closing his eyes as he relaxes.

“You little shit.” You say snidely causing Eddie to chuckle—his eyes linger on your face briefly until he can’t stand it, drifting further down the expanse of your legs.

You notice it, answering with a dismissive, “I was sleeping.”

“On your couch?” He asks quizzically, noting the size of your apartment. He knew there had to be a bedroom somewhere—though, who was he to judge?

“I was tired.” You shrug, “—Why are you still here?”

“Yeah, shit,” Eddie curses again, something that seemed to be a habit of his, “I didn’t expect to make a friend.”

He scratches the cat’s head gently, another soft purr rumbling in the quiet and another annoyed eye roll coming from you.

There’s a rough knock at the door that startles both of you, a soft yelp escaping your throat. It sends your cat fleeing in a hurry to your bedroom, body slinking through the cracked door and away from danger once again.

You shove Eddie away from the door gently, twisting the doorknob until the door creaked open, brimming with frustration at the sudden flurry of events—all you wanted was a decent night of sleep.

“Hey—oh,” Steve’s eyes go wide, his figure becoming clearer as the door opens wide, “—Eddie?”

“It’s a long story.” You tell him before Eddie has the chance to answer.

“You’re—“ He points at you and your state of undress, eyebrows pulling together in confusion, “do you two—wait, are you two screwing each other?”

Eddie stutters out a quick, “No.”

Followed by your pointed look of disgust, “God—absolutely not.”

Eddie looks slightly offended but forces it away, Steve’s mouth pulling up into a smirk, “I probably should’ve introduced you two sooner—Eddie’s moving in with me next week.”

“Yeah, well it looks like your new roomie partied too hard,” You tell Steve, plucking at the sleeve of Eddie’s slack arm, the metal of his bracelet jingling against his wrist, “I already took in one stray—two, counting you,” Your eyes narrow on Steve, “I don’t need a third.”

“I’m right here,” Eddie says, feeling dejectedly despite his lack of knowing you, “I have feelings.”

“You’ll learn, buddy,” Steve offers comfortingly, grasping at his friend’s wrist to pull him along, “let’s go.”

“My cat didn’t try to maul him—so I guess that’s something,” You offer, Steve’s face contorting in shock, “—yeah, literally ran toward him like a fuckin’ traitor.”

“Huh,” Steve laughs, glancing over at his friend who still had an apparent frown on his face—you feel like you apologizing is a good idea, but Steve quickly rectifies that, “he’s fine—just an emotional drunk.”

“Well, I guess that makes two of you.”

“Hey,” Steve says, coming to his own defense, “not true.”

“Yeah—he likes to strip naked too.” Eddie interjects and Steve has the audacity to look mortified despite how many times you’ve witnessed just that.

Steve is on the precipice of a retort, mouth open in defense, but you quickly close the door in his face and catch the muffled beginnings of what you were sure was going to turn into an hour long rant—luckily, that wasn’t your problem.

Eddie Munson, though—that was soon to prove in being the biggest problem of your life.

[spine-buster]

just friends, pt. 2

aka, another time it could have happened again

gif credit @/besthimbomachine

Length: 3704 words Summary: It's New Year's Eve. Tyson and Hazel's favourite holiday is New Year's Eve. A beautiful dress doesn't quite help any New Year's resolutions. A/N: This series is slowly taking over my mind. This is some more blue balls for you all before we finally get to a sequel.

31 December 2019

Hazel took time to get ready for AEW’s New Year’s Eve party; she took time shaving and exfoliating in the shower, lathering herself in lotion, curling her hair, applying her makeup, slipping into her dress.  She took time looking at herself in the mirror, happy with how she looked.  It took a while to get here, literally and figuratively, but judging by the colour of her dress and the slit that reached up her thigh, she was, firmly, here.  Happy.

The party was to be held in TIAA Bank Arena for the entire roster, and while she knew she wasn’t running late, she knew Tyson would be. 

Can you hurry your ass up?

Perfection takes time, hunny

You are the worst person alive

Hazel snorted to herself at Tyson’s text, if only because she could picture so perfectly him saying it in person, too – if he were ever on time.  Regardless, she waited out in the hotel lobby, scrolling through her phone.  She saw some personal stories posted from some other friends already at TIAA Bank Arena, seeing all the decorations, the bar set up, and the hors d’oeuvres already being served.  She was starving.  If Tyson made her miss the hors d’oeuvres, she was going to kill him.

Her instincts told her to look up, and when she did, she saw Tyson walking towards her wearing a nice button up shirt and a pair of pressed slacks that fit him perfectly.  He looked good, but to Hazel, he always did, even though she couldn’t say it out loud.  She thanked the Lord it looked like he scrubbed all the spray tan off too, and trimmed his beard so it wasn’t too scraggly.  Sometimes she thought it looked so, and she made sure to tell him.  ‘It looks better when it’s shorter, Ty,’ she’d tell him, and usually within twelve hours it would be at a length she loved.  It was kind of like when he told her how he liked her long hair, how he didn’t want her to cut it again after she had chopped most of it off into a long bob a few years ago now.  Hazel went for regular trims so her hair was healthy and grew it out to a length that cascaded down her back.

Okay, so maybe they did say it out loud from time to time.

“Did you order the Uber?” she asked when he was close, but he didn’t answer.  She waited patiently for a response, but didn’t get one.  Tyson didn’t respond because his eyes were travelling from her face down her body, the dress accentuating every beautiful curve and line.  “Kenneth!”

He snapped out of it.  “What?!”

“You’re going to make me miss the hors d’oeuvres,” she said.

“No I’m not,” he said.  “The Uber’s two minutes away.  Let’s go wait outside.”

He walked behind her, watching her ass in the dress.  He had to think of the smell of his hockey team’s locker room from 20 years ago to prevent himself from getting a fucking erection in the lobby of a hotel.  He wanted to punch himself for thinking what he was; for thinking about what he wanted to do to her in that dress.  The things he could get away with.  The things she’d let him get away with.

If it was the right time.

“You look great by the way,” he said nonchalantly, barely making eye contact with her as they stood outside waiting for the Uber to pull up to the door.

“Yeah, thanks,” Hazel was almost bashful, running her hands down the fabric that covered the front of her thighs.  “You don’t—you don’t think it’s too m—”

“Nah, no way,” he cut her off, shaking his head vehemently.  “Everything…you just, you look incredible, Haze.”

“Thanks, Ty.  I mean it.”

He looked at her finally, a small smile on his face.  “If any of the guys hit on you tonight, you’ll know why.”

Before Hazel could say that none of the guys would hit on her as long as he was around (except for Austin, probably, and even then it would be as a joke), and before she could blurt out something stupid like “I wish you’d be the one to hit on me,’, their Uber rolled up in front of them.  She climbed into the back, trying to get her dress not to bunch up too much.  Tyson hopped in after her, staying behind the passenger seat.  “TIAA Bank Arena, please,” Tyson said to the driver before looking out the window to distract himself.

***

At the party, Tyson didn’t appreciate how he and Hazel were separated.  She had been whisked away early on and he watched her order gin and tonic with lime from the bar.  He hung out with some of the guys but the eye he kept on her in the dress was near constant.  New Year’s was his favourite holiday and he wanted to spoil himself by staring at her – sue him. He wanted to spoil himself in more ways, but he knew he couldn’t.  It was getting harder the more he saw her smile, the more he saw her laugh, the more he saw her cheeks flush red and her smile get wider as the night passed, taking pictures and laughing at jokes and singing along with the music.

For what it was worth, Hazel noticed.  She noticed Tyson’s eyes on her almost the entire night, stuck on her as she giggled and smiled and sipped her drink.  She could tease him all night if she really wanted to, and she knew it.  But instead of doing that – instead of teasing him more than she already was – she decided to whisk herself away to the bathroom, if only to cool herself down and reapply her lipstick. 

As she bent over the vanity to reapply her lipstick in the mirror, the door opened and in walked Tyson.  He stared at her through the mirror, smiling as he shut the door behind him and leaned against it.  “Hey,” his voice was soft.

“Hey you.”

“You okay?” Tyson asked quietly.

“Of course,” Hazel nodded.  She picked up her glass filled with ice and a lime.  “This is water.”

“It is?”

“I keep asking the bartender to fill it with just tonic water,” she revealed, smiling.  “You know how I always like to remember New Year’s.”

Tyson couldn’t help but smile at her little scheme, pushing himself away from the door and taking the few steps towards her.  “Yeah.  Of course.  Just like me.”

“We promised, didn’t we?” she maintained direct eye contact with him through the mirror.

“We did,” he said, remembering their conversation and promise in Tokyo all those years ago. His hand went to her waist, without warning. Then it snaked around, his hand resting on her lower belly. Hazel looked at him through the mirror. “Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?” his voice was low.

A smile broke out on her face; one she could barely conceal. “Mhmm,” she nodded her head quickly. She placed her hand over his, intertwining their fingers slightly. “You’re getting real handsy, Ty.”

“Sorry,” he didn’t mean it.

“You don’t have to apologize. You just have to…be careful.”

“Of what?”

“Yourself,” she deadpanned, biting her bottom lip mischievously.  “You’re your own worst enemy sometimes, you know that?”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

Smirking at each other through the mirror, Tyson slowly pulled his hand away from her, but didn’t step away from her body.  “Are you having fun?”

“The most fun,” Hazel closed her lipstick, turning around so she was finally facing him and not looking at him through a mirror.  “You know how much I love all these rapscallions.  Are you?”

“Now I am.”

***

When there was about five minutes to go, the waitresses and caterers began pouring the champagne into the flutes.  Hazel watched as each one filled up one by one, everybody gathering together to watch the final minutes.  As the champagne was passed around, Hazel accepted her flute graciously.  Tyson, of course, politely declined. 

“Can I have his?” she asked the waitress, who was more than willing to oblige.

With two champagne flutes in her hands, the final minutes were dwindling.  Tyson stood beside her, watching on, a smile on his face.  The excitement in the air was palpable.  The countdown was always the best part.  And when the last minute of the year hit, he watched as Hazel performed an excited jig. 

Then, thirty seconds left.  They both turned towards the TV again, counting down with the growing number of their friends shouting out the numbers.  Tyson grew more and more emphatic with his screaming of the numbers the closer they got.  Hazel screamed along, careful not to spill her champagne.

Five!...Four!...Three!...Two!...One!...Haaaaaappy New Year!

Hazel screamed along with everyone else, raising her hands with the champagne flutes up in the air for dramatic effect.  Tyson was screaming along with everyone and clapping his hands.  She could see Austin and Britt already sharing a New Year’s kiss, and a few others, too.  She brought the first of the champagne flutes to her lips to drink, to suppress what she really wanted to do.  Hopefully the moment would pass.

When she looked into Tyson’s eyes after downing the second flute, she saw everything she loved about him; everything she was so desperate to have but desperate to keep hidden, to keep locked away in some small compartment within her.  “Happy New Year, Ty.”

His smile was soft, but light, and genuine.  “Happy New Year, Haze.”

***

It was nearing two in the morning by the time Tyson and Hazel decided to call it a night.  There were still plenty of people at the party, and they were still all giggly and smiley, but they wanted to go back to the hotel.  Tyson ordered the taxi as Hazel said goodbye to everyone, kissing everyone’s cheek and hugging them tight.  When they left the venue, Tyson walked behind her again, watching her hips and ass move in her dress. 

The car pulled up in no time.  Hazel crouched into the taxi first, shifting all the way over to the other side.  She could immediately feel how cool the air was in the car, in such contrast to the humidity outside.  As Tyson climbed in after her, her body shivered.  “Hyatt Regency, please,” she said to the driver, watching as Tyson close the door behind him.

As the taxi driver signalled to rejoin the road, Tyson moved so he was in the middle seat, practically in her seat.  Then, his hand went straight to her thigh, where the slit of her dress exposed as much leg as it could.  Her eyebrows rose playfully.  “What d’you think you’re doing?” she asked playfully.

“What?” he asked non-chalant, the smallest of smirks building on his face.  “Not like my hand’s never been there before.  Plus, you shivered.  Body heat is paramount.”

Between training and matches, and between, well…he wasn’t technically wrong.  But he still knew he was pushing it, and Hazel knew he was pushing it too.  While she appreciated the physical touch – she always did with Tyson – she knew it wasn’t the right or the best thing to do.  “Oh Tyson,” she chastised him, leaning back against the window.  “You know what would be even better?” she asked as her hand went to lay on top of his on her thigh, their fingers slightly intertwining.

His hand attempted to go higher, closer to her core, but she stopped him.  “What’s that?” he asked.

“If you gave me a foot massage.”

He pretend gagged and she laughed out, knowing that he hated anything to do with feet.  “Now why the fuck would I do that?”

“Cause you love me,” she said.  “And these heels are awful.”

“They look great.”

“Beautiful but awful.”

“Why don’t you just take them off?”

She rolled her eyes.  Men.  “The first rule of heels is you can’t take them off until it’s the end of the night.  Your feet won’t fit back in them if you do, and it actually becomes more painful to walk in them again.”

Tyson shook his head.  “Beauty is pain, I guess.”

“So I guess I’m not getting a foot massage, huh?” she smiled.

“No chance.”

They chatted and joked for the short ride back to the hotel, wishing the driver a Happy New Year and tipping generously with cash so he didn’t have to claim it.  The second Tyson’s hand left her thigh and his body left her side, she felt the loss.  She hated admitting so.  She buried the feeling again as she stepped out of the car.  But before Hazel could even shut the door, Tyson’s hands were on her again.

Except this time, he lifted her up dramatically into a fireman’s carry.  She yelped loudly, acutely aware that despite her dress still being on and the fabric covering everything it needed to cover, her ass was in the air.  “Tyson!”

“Oh will you stop,” he mimicked Gorilla Monsoon perfectly.  “You said your feet hurt!”  He began walking towards the door and through the foyer.  Hazel could feel her body heat up from embarrassment as she saw the concierge look at them.  What a sight to see at two in the morning.  She was thankful that nobody else was lingering around.  “Better than walking, huh?”

“Can you at least carry me like a normal person so my ass isn’t in the air?”

Carefully, so as to not tear at her dress, they transitioned like they were in the ring in-between wrestling moves, and eventually, Tyson was carrying her bridal style.  She pressed the button for the elevator before looking into his eyes and cradling his face in her hand.  “Hey Tys?”

“Hmm”?

“Thanks for carrying me.”

“I’d do anything for you.  You know that.”

“I know that, but your back is bad.”

“Doesn’t matter.  Your feet hurt.”

Her heart swelled.  Tyson had always been so good to her, and her to him, but she revelled in this sweet moment as much as she could.  It was only when Tyson’s face started to get closer did her heart begin fluttering instead of swelling.  “Ty…” she whispered. 

“You smell delectable,” he mumbled. 

“That’s Jo Malone for you,” she tried to joke, even though she knew it wouldn’t hit.  Tyson’s mind was somewhere else as she dug through her purse for their room key.  She shoved it into the reader, the little light turning green before she opened the door for them.  Tyson carried her into the room without even looking where he was going, the hair on his beard tickling the sensitive skin on her neck.  She couldn’t help but smile and giggle.  “Ty…”

“Let me put you on the bed,” his voice was husky all of a sudden.  He placed her down on the bed but followed her down, his face still in the crook of her neck, his body looming over hers.  “Christ, Hazel…”

Even though she was smiling, and even though almost every inch of her wanted this and could have had so, so much fun with it, she couldn’t.  Trouble – that’s what this was.  They could get into a lot of trouble this way.  “That’s not the best idea, Ty,” Hazel whispered as she felt Tyson’s nose on her décolletage, on her clavicle, on her neck.  She knew his lips were next.

“Why not?”

She giggled.  “You already felt up my thigh in the taxi.  You just want to because you’re hyped from the party.  New Year’s has always been your favourite holiday.”

“Our favourite holiday.”

“Regardless,” she smiled to herself like a Cheshire cat, “you shouldn’t do much more, Ty.  It wouldn’t be right.”

He knew she was right, fuck he knew she was right, but he gritted his teeth and bit his tongue.  ‘Yes it would be right’ he thought.  ‘Anything we do is right.  Anything we’ve ever done has been right.  It’s been right because it’s been with each other.’  He dislodged himself from her neck and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling of the hotel room.  “It’s that dress, too,” he said to mask everything he was feeling, in a tone that covered any agony with humour.

Hazel’s smile didn’t leave her face.  “It’s always the dress, huh?”

Tyson stayed silent, continuing to stare at the ceiling, trying to collect his thoughts.  His arm was up above his head, the back of his hand resting on his forehead.  “Sorry Hazel,” his voice was soft and low.

“You don’t have to apologize.  I just don’t want you doing something you’ll regret later.”

‘But I won’t regret it’ he thought to himself.  “Yeah, yeah,” he nodded slightly.  “Thanks for always looking out for me, Haze.”

“You know I always will.”

Both of them took deep breaths, staring up at the ceiling as they lay in bed.  Tyson couldn’t get the images out of his mind of Hazel at the party posing for photos, laughing, her legs glistening in the light.  Her beautiful smile that took up half her face.  The shine of her hair down her back.   Fuck.

He felt Hazel shift beside him.  When he looked over, she had lifted her knee to her chest, stretching to grab the buckle of her heels.  The material of her dress rode up her thighs, exposing more of her skin.  They came off one by one, with Hazel haphazardly throwing them to the side on the floor.  He watched as she pushed herself up, sitting on the edge of the bed, her back now facing him.  He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Hey Tys?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you unzip me?”

He shot up, but tried not to look too eager.  He moved so he was directly behind her, watching as she gathered her hair over one shoulder.  He grabbed the small zipper of her dress with his big hands.  He took his sweet ass time pulling it down; Hazel knew he would.  A part of her wanted to tease him so badly, only because she knew she had the power to at the moment.

When he was finished, he didn’t say anything.  Instead, Hazel sensed it and she stood up from the bed, not bothering to look back at him.  He watched her as she walked through the room, watched as she reached her suitcase and promptly dropped her dress to the floor, leaving her in only her underwear in front of him.  He caught glimpses of the curves of her breasts as she threw her hair up in a ponytail and dug through her suitcase to find her pyjamas.  His mind took him back to Tokyo and it was like a magic trick how he could remember the feeling of them in his hands when they made love.

Hazel went into the washroom and closed the door behind her, and Tyson knew it was so she could wash off her makeup.  The memories of the night they’d just had flooded his mind, interspersed with memories of Tokyo.  Her dress.  The first time she wore one of his t-shirts after crashing at his apartment in Shinjuku.  Her being backstage after the G1 Climax.  Her laughing at his dumb joke at the bar.  Her lips around the straw of her drink.  Her hand over his when he grabbed at her thigh inside the taxi.

When Hazel got out of the washroom, clean-faced and with her hair in a bun, she noticed Tyson laying back down on the bed, still in his clothes from the party.  When she moved closer, she realized that instead of using the time she was in the bathroom to change, he hadn’t.  Now, he sleeping in his pants and shirt, an arm draped across his chest.  He looked so peaceful in his slumber Hazel almost didn’t want to disturb him.  But she knew what she had to do.

She crawled onto the bed slowly, making sure not to disturb him, and began to pull his belt out of the loop and unbuckle it.  When she tugged slightly, he moved his arm, and it wasn’t until she unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them did he groggily open his eyes.  “Hazel?” he asked.

“Let’s go to sleep.”

Considering what he had been thinking of before he fell asleep, he wasn’t sure if this was reality or a dream.  The fact that her hands were near his crotch was enough to make him confused.  “What’re you—”

“You can’t sleep in your party clothes, Tys.  Lift your hips for me.”

He did as he was told, and felt Hazel pulling his pants down, all the way down, until he was left in his boxers.  She moved to his shirt and started unbuttoning it for him.  In his mental haze of still not knowing if this was a dream or reality, he bought his hand up and placed it over hers.  She stopped and looked at him.  “I’d do anything for you,” he whispered softly.

A smile spread across her face.  “I’d do anything for you too.  Let me take this off you now, okay?”

Her hands were soft as they glided across his chest and up to his broad shoulders to push his shirt back.  It came off easily.  Hazel noticed Tyson’s heavy eyes.  “Get your head on a pillow, Tys.  You’ll be more comfortable.”

He pushed himself back and settled himself; meanwhile, Hazel pulled back the covers, got underneath them, and pulled them over their bodies.  She snuggled into his back, his body heat radiating onto her.  She paused for a moment, her lack of judgement winning out against her better judgement as she placed three kisses along Tyson’s shoulder.  She dragged her lips along his skin between them, making sure her lips lingered on his skin when she was done.  “That okay?”

He groaned slightly in response, nodding his head.  “That feels so nice,” he sighed out.

Hazel couldn’t help but appreciate the sentiment.  “Let’s go to sleep, Tys.  Tomorrow when we wake up there’ll be a whole new year of memories we can make together.”

Always together.

[nitewrighter]

Are you still taking asks from the Pliny the Elders posts? More on Cindy's faerie godmother, either her response to the wedding or the other godmothers' responses to what she's done in the story itself?

For anyone not familiar with Cindy, here’s the masterpost!!

Sorry this has been sitting in my drafts a while. If you guys want to read other Cindy-matic Universe stuff you can check out Smoky Tea and Ball’s in Your Court!

---

"So. Out of juice, huh?" A scraggly old fairy with drought-browned foxtails for hair chewed at her pipe as Hazel hugged her knees, huddled against the roots of the Mother Tree. Hazel said nothing. She barely heard her. God, she really had just thrown that kid into the deep end. And what would happen after? Memory spell or not, they ran from the freakin' cops, that wasn't something that just went away. Granted sometimes it did if you pulled it off the right way, but for legal reasons neither Hazel nor the author could go into that. Quiet. Focus. Just breathe. Magic adapts to its environment and if you're a ball of furious nerves regretfully stumbling through the events of the previous hours, you're stuck with nervous wreck magic, which sucks.

"Hey--Orphan Tears. I'm talking to you," The scraggly fairy spoke up again. Hazel missed that part as well. Or at least mixed it up with the memory of Cindy asking if she should cry on the tree more.

"Oh I get it, you barely squeak by on your ass into Godmother Rank and suddenly you're too good for the rest of us--too good for old Foxtail--but it's not like the good fairies'll ever think you're one of them anyhow. Old Foxtail hears what they say about you. Lemme tell ya, once you switch from sourin' milk to sparkles, something takes root in you--those of us with the rot and the earth, that's magic that can be trusted, that's--"

"Wh--?" Hazel glanced up, "Oh. You were talking to me."

"Fucking hell--it's always the same with you young lot--a few hours in the human world and you leave half your wits there," Foxtail flopped back against the Mother Tree, "Yes, I'm talking to you."

"Sorry, I just..." Hazel's brow crinkled and she turned her gaze upward to the lattice of branches-that-were-also-roots that wove about the high underground ceiling of Faerie, "It's... harder than I thought it would be... I-I scared the shit out of her when I first showed up, and--and I think I helped her, but if she gets in trouble because of me...." Hazel felt at her horns, grimacing, before exhaling.

“Sounds like you really care about this one,” Foxtail rested her chin on her knuckles.

“Enough to use up all my juice,” Hazel snorted.

“God, humans are so much simpler when you’re just... threatening to kill a priest if he don’t ask the dying old man he’s performing last rites for if you’ll get into heaven on judgment day,” Foxtail huffed.

“They really are...” Hazel sighed. She perked up slightly. “Will we--?”

“Oh no, we won’t. Not really our bag, as it were,” Foxtail shrugged, “Good for scaring priests though.” 

“Mm,” Hazel turned her gaze forward. 

“It’s interesting, what you’re doing, I’ll give you that,” Foxtail took this opportunity to finally light her pipe and the scent of burning ground-up children’s teeth drifted around the base of the Mother Tree, “Shakes things up down here, for sure.”

“I’m not doing it to shake things up--”

“I know, why d’you think I call you ‘Orphan Tears’ anyway? Of course you’re stuck to that human--but you know you’re going to outlive her. So long as that tree of yours is up. But humans are always trouble--we have the godmothers to try and keep things all...” Foxtail huffed smoke out through her pointed teeth,  “Diplomatic, but mark me, mortals are trouble. And if any of us good neighbors is going to prove that...”

“Mm...” Hazel readjusted herself to a cross-legged position, resigning herself to letting Foxtail rant some more. It was a comfort, in its own bitter, brittle way. Being born from a tree, and not the Mother Tree at that, she didn’t really have a concept of family--not a lot of common fairies like her did--but she had seen how some humans interacted with each other. They were flawed beings stuck together, and just having to deal with that, and somehow down the line not wanting to let each other go... she could understand something like that with Foxtail. But then Hazel perked up at a melodious, almost chiming sound. Fae armor didn’t thud and clink like human metals, it sang.

“Godmother Hazel?” two fairies in semi-armored livery loomed over her. She didn’t quite catch which one spoke. The first instinct was to run, but Hazel knew in the state she was in, it wasn’t like she could get far.

“...I am she,” Hazel looked up from furrowed brows with the traditional response.

“The Reverend Godmother would like a word,” said the other liveried guard.

“Oi! She hasn’t done anything wrong, you pigs! She helped her human just like you lot swear you do!” Foxtail piped up.

“It’s fine,” Hazel stood up. It was that moment when exhaustion gives you a second sucker punch because you let your body think it was in a recharge mode (and to be fair, it was), but still she stepped away from the Mother Tree with a short exhale. “Take me to her.”

Both guards pivoted to either side of her, and each stiffly hooked their arm under hers before they took off with a light thrum of dragonfly wings.

“Don’t you worry, Orphan Tears!” Foxtail hollered after her, “It’s our nature to get in over our heads--on scales them mortals can barely dream of!”

“God, that stinks--” muttered one of the guards.

“We’ve got to do something about the children’s teeth problem,” said the other guard.

Hazel briefly considered saying “She’s not hurting anyone” or “it’s one of the only ceremonies humans have with the lower Folk” but held her tongue. Grumpily hanging in the grip of two fairy guards was far from a position to soapbox. Fucking wings. All fairies who had wings thought they were a big fucking deal, but they were largely redundant--between the stealth with which they could move, and pretty much any fairies’ standard bag of tricks, and zipping around with pixie dust or bubbles or between reflective surfaces, wings were more about status (and status quo) than anything. But gods knew the godmothers loved their theater. 

Hazel was ushered into a large hexagonal office. Reverend Godmother Mailse pivoted towards her, her features as high and smooth and slightly gnarled as teak driftwood, with sea glass green eyes and silver hair cropped short to high, frothy waves.

“Hazel. So glad you could join us--Tea?”

Hazel was unceremoniously plomped down to her feet and rocked on her heels slightly. A large moth in a waistcoat and frilly collar leaned toward her with a platter of tea and pastries. Hazel took an almond tart and chewed it while not breaking eye contact. “Can I ask what the purpose of this meeting is, Reverend Godmother?” 

“We can’t tell you how... encouraging, all your progress in our little experiment has been,” Reverend Godmother Mailse clasped her hands together. 

“Uh huh...” Hazel’s voice was only slightly distorted by a mouth full of slightly-too-dry pastry. Oh boy, they were calling it ‘the experiment’ again. A couple weeks ago it was being crowed about as a ‘diplomatic venture,’ and now we were back to ‘experiment.’

“It’s just... I’ve been informed you gifted your human charge something... permanent,” Reverend Mother Mailse’s hands went from clasping to that little jerky forward-steepling-fingers gesture.

“We’re fairies. We give gifts all the time,” Hazel shrugged, still chewing.

“In the old days! With the old kingdoms! And--and I recognize that it was very old magic that brought you to us,”

“Pure-hearted Orphan Tears,” Hazel said, with just the right amount of ‘Fuck you I know what I’m doing’ energy even if, in this moment, she very much didn’t because she still didn’t really see what she did wrong.

“It’s just... when we give humans gifts that are... permanent, that tends to... disrupt things,” Reverend Godmother Mailse was pacing back and forth.

Hazel scoffed. “They’re shoes. They’re not going to disrupt things.”

“Shoes?” Mailse’s silver eyelashes fluttered.

“Shoes. I mean I learned enough of our history not to give her a sword--I. mean I think giving her a sword would have probably freaked her out--I mean if I had given her a sword, it obviously wouldn’t be a permanent sword, it would just ffft away after I helped her kill her stepfamily, but you guys are all like ‘oh nooooo Fairy Godmothers don’t straight-up murder people’ and I’d be like ‘I’m not killing them, I’m letting her kill them,’ but then that’s probably against the rules somehow too or something. But anyway, I could tell she wasn’t up for killing anyone, and like... all she really wanted was to get to that party.”

Mailse was staring blankly at Hazel then. Her lips parted for a few seconds, then she closed them, she opened her mouth again, squinting a little, closed it again, then paced away from Hazel.

“That’s--I--Shoes?” she said, pivoting towards Hazel again.

“Shoes for the party,” said Hazel, “And I made them permanent so... she’d have something to remember the party by. The kid--she... she gets scared a lot. The people with her tell her she’s stupid and crazy all the time. I thought... if she has a happy memory, it should be one thing that people can’t tell her she’s stupid and crazy for.”

“I see...” the Reverend Godmother looked thoughtful at this.

“And look--it’s a nice shoe, but there’s no real glamour about it. The most magic I put into it were the defenses!”

“D-defenses?” 

“Well, yeah, obviously--they’re her shoes, and her stepfamily stole a whole bunch of her shit, so I figured I’d make it so they couldn’t steal the shoes!”

“Go on...” Reverend Godmother Mailse said slowly.

Hazel had the feeling this was setting up for some kind of trap, but at the same time, she knew how all the winged fairies looked at her anyway, so if she was going to make an ass of herself, she had made peace with that concept a long time ago. “Look, the shoes just fit her, okay? They don’t fit anyone else. And maybe there’s a slight deterrent on the stepfamily putting them on. Maybe. That’s really the only magic on them. The shoes are just.. not going to fit anyone else. And that’s not a big deal! All the humans have their shoes custom-made, anyway! Or y’know they cobble them down to whatever size! What are they going to do... come up with some kind of... standardization for foot size? What kind of fucking weirdo would do that?” 

“Mm...” Reverend Godmother Mailse was nodding as if what Hazel was saying was very reasonable, but there was a hard crinkle in her brow.

“What?” said Hazel. But then a memory flashed back to her. Poor Cindy, all sniffling, curled up in the middle of the road, rats and lizards and an old-as-balls farm dog loping around her, all covered in pumpkin guts. “I lost one of the slippers... I’m sorry.” And the poor fucking kid just looked so scared in that moment, like Hazel was going to hurt her for fucking up even though it wasn’t like she had a whole lot of control in that context, not to mention the fact that she might be fucking concussed from the pumpkin crash--god, why hadn’t she explained more things to her?! “...What happened?” it was finally at the point where Hazel couldn’t meet the Reverend Godmother’s eyes.

The Reverend godmother looked... honestly just a little too apologetic in that moment. This wasn’t really a smug expression from her, more like the look you get from your DM when you roll a Nat 1 on a saving throw and they know you’re really attached to your half-elf bard. 

“Hazel... there really hasn’t been anyone like you in Faerie in a very long time,” was all she said.

“That is not fucking answering what I’m asking,” every muscle in Hazel’s body was tensed. She suddenly lunged forward and seized the Reverend Godmother by her arms, “IS MY KID FUCKING SAFE!?” 

There was an audible drawing of swords and spears behind her and Hazel immediately realized her emotional reaction well-outpaced her current physical abilities. There was a moment of freezing like, no, she couldn’t let go, not until she knew, but then she felt a thin-fingered gentle hand smoothing her hair behind her horns. The sound of metal behind her seemed to slacken and Hazel’s eyes flicked upward.

“She’s safe for now,” said the Reverend Godmother, looking down at her, “But the situation is still developing.”

“‘Still developing?’” Hazel scoffed, “The hell is that supposed to mean?” 

The Reverend Godmother glanced up from her and gestured at her guards and they briskly walked out, before quickly returning, wings thrumming, with what appeared to be a large mirror, but it didn’t reflect so much as look like dark, murky water. The reverend godmother passed a hand in front of it, and its plane rippled to reveal the blinding daylight of the mortal world.

“Hear ye, hear ye!” A town crier was yelling, “Whosoever fits the shoe in question, is the prince’s intended bride!” before unfurling a scroll which featured the fucking shoe Hazel gave Cindy.

Hazel’s mouth was hanging open. “Ah--” Hazel made a sound and turned to the Reverend Mother, “Okay so---” she sharply inhaled through her nostrils, “I didn’t glamour her--okay? I didn’t. I mean, I gave her a nice outfit, but like, there’s a memory charm on the outfit--that’s the whole thing--the whole thing was no one was supposed to remember her--I mean yeah, people can remember what she said--I wanted her to have a chance to tell the stepfamily to go fuck themselves, alright, and they wouldn’t forget that they got told to go fuck themselves, alright? HOW THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW HE’D STILL BE IN LOVE WITH HER!?”

 “...because truth sticks in the mind far longer than anything else...” the Reverend Godmother didn’t turn away from the mirror, “And those pure of heart speak as true as they can.”

Hazel’s mouth drew to a thin line. “Look--you... you can’t punish me just because I couldn’t know she could be that good of a person! That’s not--you know what I am! You know I’m--I’m--” the words came so close to Hazel’s teeth but she bit them back. She knew what she was, but there was also a furious part of her that would never give those with wings the satisfaction. 

“Did you think I brought you here to punish you?” the Reverend Godmother glanced toward her.

“I MEAN YOU HAD THE FUCKING NARC GUARDS DRAG ME IN,” Hazel threw up her hands. 

“I brought you here because... for the first time in a very long time, I’m not sure what will happen next,” the reverend godmother chuckled, “I... I don’t think you’re a bad fairy, Hazel.”

“I’m literally Unseelie,” Hazel folded her arms in a huff.

“You were made from tears. From pain. It’s very easy to think that pain is purely bad--but it’s not. Pain tells us when something is wrong. Pain tells us that things should not be the way they are. Pain can be punishment, that’s true, but I think--more often than that, pain is the absence of justice and kindness and love...You were born from tears of grief and loneliness, Hazel. You think you are pain, but in fact, you are love. And fury. And justice.” 

Hazel’s met her eyes and was pressing her lips together hard, arms still folded, though it was clear those words had shaken her.

“I didn’t bring you here because I thought you must be punished,” said the Reverend Godmother.

“Right, ‘Fairy Godmothers aren’t about punishment,’” Hazel rolled her eyes.

“It’s true,” said the Reverend Godmother, “I mean we can decommission you and you can go right back to turning butter rancid, if that’s what you think is better for you.”

Hazel was silent, not looking at her.

“But the actual reason I brought you here was, I don’t know what’s going to happen next. It’s been a very long time since we’ve interfered in human affairs to this extent. But I think if anything goes wrong, I can trust you to put it right.”

Hazel blinked.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’ve disrupted... probably a lot of human politics--but it wouldn’t be very true to our roots if we didn’t do that, would it?” 

Hazel’s eyebrows raised and she glanced up at the Reverend Godmother then.

“Like I said,” said the Reverend Godmother, “There hasn’t been anyone like you in Faerie in a very long time.”

Hazel blinked a few times. “C-could I get that tea, now? And can I sit down?” 

The Reverend Godmother smiled.

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings, Chapter 17: The Man, The Myth

In which we return to the present, where Danny and Cyrus debate the existence of a certain man. Contains: 2.3k words | Chapter 1 | Read this story on A03!

Christopher Penn is a man who’s been missing for almost ten years now.

Danny’s eyes widened, but she tried to hide the reaction on her face as best she could. Christopher was a giant—how the fuck could he go missing? “What do you mean missing?” 

Cyrus’s rather unkind smile only widened. “Oh, Danny, I was hoping you could enlighten me on that matter. Perhaps you can start with telling us exactly where you’ve been for the past month.”

She narrowed her eyes, glancing between the faces of the men Cyrus had brought with him. As much as she hated to admit it, they were outnumbered here. Cyrus knew exactly what he was doing. 

She couldn’t figure out what Cyrus’s angle was. Why did he care so much about Christopher? She seriously doubted it was for any sort of benevolent reason. He was acting so smug about it—like he felt he was catching Danny in some sort of scandal. Which would have been hilarious, given she didn’t have any romantic attachment whatsoever to either Nathan or Christopher, but she could sense something slightly more sinister under the surface of this whole interaction.

She decided it would be best to avoid giving Cyrus what he wanted.

“I’ve been with Christopher, you deaf motherfucker,” Danny spat.

Cyrus narrowed his eyes back at her, and she could see his patient facade wear away slowly. It was almost satisfying. “And where does Christopher live, dear?” 

Danny’s lip curled. “I don’t see why it matters, bastard.”

“Christopher Penn has been missing for nearly a decade now,” Cyrus said slowly, like Danny was the idiot, “so I think that knowing his current whereabouts would be rather important, don’t you?” 

Danny rolled her eyes. “You know, maybe you’re thinking of a different Christopher Penn. Because I seriously doubt we’re talking about the same guy here. I bet there’s plenty of people with that name.” 

“Oh?” Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “And how do you figure that?”

Because he’s a fucking GIANT. “Because, clearly, he’s not missing. I was just visiting him.”

Cyrus scratched his scraggly beard and took a seat at their table, leaning back in the chair like he owned the place. “Here’s the deal, Danny.” He maintained eye contact with Danny as he held up the note from earlier, pointing towards the seal on the bottom. “The seal is unmistakably that of the same man who’s missing.”

He slid the note across the table, and Danny snatched it up. The seal was made in red ink, an elaborate design with a bird Danny now recognized at its center. A peacock.

“Ten years ago, this man vanished from the public eye—no one who looked for him could find him, or his old residence. He made no contact with anyone, except for these mysterious payments to people who should have no connection to him. People like…you both,” he said derisively, an obvious insinuation twisted in his words. People of a lower class.

Danny snarled, but Nathan pressed down on her shoulder again. 

“And here’s the strange part, Danny. None of those benefactors seemed to know Penn—not even Mr. Hayes here could tell me what the payment was even for.” Cyrus’s eyes bore into Danny, taunting and hungry. “Until you. You’re the first person in ten years who remembers a man that everyone else seems to have conveniently forgotten about.” 

Danny’s head was swimming. How could Christopher have gone missing in the first place, if he was confined to his mansion? He mentioned he wrote letters—but surely no one actually knew the giant that lived there, right? 

“He’s a friend. I don’t really know why you care so much, Cyrus, but I really don’t think there’s anything here to discuss.” 

“Oh, but there is.” Cyrus leaned forward. “Penn and I have some unfinished business to take care of. And you are going to tell me where your little friend is hiding.” 

Danny laughed, only partially by the use of the word little. “You have business with him?”

There was no way Cyrus actually knew Christopher—surely, he would have mentioned the fact that Christopher was a giant by now. Maybe the seal just looked similar to another one. Maybe, if she just showed Cyrus what Christopher looked like, he’d leave them alone. It couldn’t be the same person. It wasn’t possible.

“I seriously think you’ve got the wrong guy,” she snarled, “and I can prove it.” 

Cyrus raised an eyebrow as she picked up the mirror that laid on the table in front of her. 

She stared into the reflective surface for a few seconds before she took a deep breath and spoke clearly. “Show me Christopher Penn.” 

The mirror almost seemed to hesitate before its surface swirled to reveal the face of the giant she’d spent a month with. She saw the hint of his horns growing back already—just barely poking out from beneath his hair, which hung over his shoulders limply. He looked exhausted, like he was draped in a melancholy veil that weighed down all his features. Her face fell slightly as she looked at him, though she wondered what it was he was sad about. She’d said she would be back, hadn’t she? Did he not believe her? 

Slowly, she turned the mirror around to show Cyrus and the men that stood on either side of him, scowling at them all. “This is my friend. He’s not the same guy, is he?” 

Cyrus’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward even further in his seat as he stared at the mirror, completely entranced. “What kind of witchcraft is this?” 

Behind him, a man that bore an extraordinary resemblance to a soggy weasel in a coat went as white as a sheet, his eyes fixed on the mirror as though he’d seen a ghost. “I-I-I’ve s-seen that guy before,” he muttered quietly.

Shit.

Cyrus turned slowly around in his chair, scowling deeply at the man. “And you’re telling me this now, Max?” 

Max all but curled in on himself as he began trembling. “I-I forgot!” he squeaked. “He did—he did something to my mind to make me forget.” He pointed an accusing, shaking finger at the mirror. “H-he looks like a regular man, but he’s…he has to be at least a hundred feet tall, everything in his house is his size—”

The lines in Cyrus's brow furrowed deeply, as if he was trying very hard to comprehend everything that was happening and sort it into something that made sense. “A giant?” he mumbled in disbelief. “Interesting…” He idly ran his fingers over the stubbly beard along his chin, lost in thought. And then suddenly, his face went rather placid—eerily so—as he met Danny's eyes again, almost in a challenge. He looked much more smug than before. “You didn't mention that your friend there was a giant.” 

Danny glared hatefully at Cyrus, but she could feel her stomach twist with unease. Should she tell the truth? Max regaining memories about Christopher was…less than ideal, but surely he'd just sound crazy. 

She put the mirror, which had gone blank, into her lap and crossed her arms. “Is he the same guy, or not?” 

Cyrus's eyes lingered on the mirror for a while longer, a thoughtful expression reappearing on his face. Something in his eyes had changed—something that made her skin crawl—but she couldn't figure out what.

“No,” he finally said. “I suppose you're right. It must be a different man.

“But Max,” he began, still staring right at Danny as he spoke. Knowing. Calculating. “I would like to hear more about this so-called giant.”

Danny laughed out loud, effectively still hiding all of her anxiety around this situation. “You really believe that? He's clearly lying. Giants don't exist, dumb fuck. You saw him. He's just a normal man.”

“I'm not lying!” Max squeaked out indignantly, cowering slightly under the stares of everyone else in the room as his outburst was followed by a vacuum of silence. “He…he trapped me in his house, kept me in a cage, and then he…he…”

He quivered uncontrollably. Danny felt her mouth go dry. No. Don't—

“Spit it out, Max,” Cyrus growled.

Like a boiling kettle, Max's words came out at once in a high-pitched squeal. “He ate me!”

Absolutely no one spoke or moved at first. Danny could hear her heart pound in the deathly silence, fighting not to show a hint of recognition or fear on her face. 

Cyrus's face went whiter than the snow outside. The men behind him, who had been whispering to themselves, all stared between Max and Danny with looks of absolute horror.

“How…” Cyrus began, his eyebrows pushing deep, deep lines into his forehead, “...did you survive?”

Max did not seem to enjoy the attention on him, nor did he seem to enjoy what little he could recall of the memory. “I-I don't know! I…it was so long ago, and he…my memories, he must have messed with them. Like…like magic or something. Th-th-that weird fucking mirror thing proves it.” His head retreated further into his coat, like a turtle trying to hide away. “But I do remember…being eaten,” he whimpered, swallowing nervously. “Clearly.”

Out of everyone, Cyrus probably looked the least horrified at Max's revelation. In fact, he seemed to sit up a little straighter, his chest almost puffed out a bit proudly. “If what I'm hearing is to be believed, it sounds as though there's a magical monster nearby who poses quite a threat to the people of this city.” He gave Danny a look of barely feigned sympathy. “Did he lock you up in a cage too, darling?” 

Danny wanted nothing more than to leap across the table at Cyrus. Instead she grit her teeth together. “I was there of my own free will,” she seethed. 

Nathan gave her a slightly confused look, but he nodded along. “She was.”

“And he's not a threat, or a monster. He's nice, and kind, and…gentle. He lives out in the woods and minds his own fucking business. Unlike you.” 

She'd never heard a laugh so unkind as the sound Cyrus made. “Oh, Danny. You can't expect me to believe you'd stay with a monster like that willingly.” He stood up, prompting Danny to do the same, her hands slamming against the table as she did so. 

He sneered at her. “A prisoner falling for her captor. There's a tale as old as time.”

“I didn't fall for him, fuckface. We're just friends. Though I'd still pick your hypothetical giant monster over you.”

Cyrus clicked his tongue a few times, staring Danny down. “You know, I really don't like your tone.” 

He snapped his fingers, and the men behind him came around the table to grab Danny and Nathan. She'd been ready to give the one coming towards her a right hook square across the jaw, but there were just too many. Max came up behind her and held her arms behind her back, snarling in her ear. 

“Danny!” Nathan cried out as he was dragged away from her by three men even larger and burlier than he was. She scowled and thrashed in Max's grip, trying to hook her foot around the man's ankles to trip him up. Unfortunately she wasn't quite quick enough—Max jammed his knee into the back of her own, making her stumble in place. 

Frustrated and filled with rage—and for once, rage directed towards someone her own size—she stepped on Max's foot with the heel of her boot, slamming it down as hard as she could. 

“Motherfuck—”

She hadn't noticed Cyrus's swaggering approach until she felt the man's hand grip her chin and tilt it up towards him. He was close enough for her to smell the residual tang of a cigar on his breath. 

She scrunched up her nose in disgust, before she spat at him. He twitched as Danny's saliva splattered onto his cheek, and he wiped it off with the back of his other hand.

He leaned in even closer, glaring at her. 

“The thing is, Danny dear, I believe this makes you either a mind-controlled victim, or a friend to a rather dangerous monster, doesn't it?”

She glared back at him, imagining Cyrus's face exploding into flames. “Go fuck yourself, Cyrus.”

He let her go, took a step back, and folded his hands beneath his chin as if he held even an ounce of piety anywhere in his body. “Frankly, I'm not one to believe such far-fetched rumors about things like magic and giants. But rumors…you see, they spread. People talk. And people don't want to trade with a city when the roads could be in danger from a nearby giant.”

He shrugged much more nonchalantly than he should have, holding far too much confidence in his posture. “Maybe this is all a big misunderstanding. But, on the off chance that there really is a giant out there…” He gave Danny a cruel, sinister smile. “Maybe I can put the worries of the townsfolk to rest by slaying it.”

She couldn't hide the fear that rose in her face at that. No. No, he couldn't. He can't. He'd kill Christopher? Does he really think he could kill a giant?

She swallowed the lump in her throat as she felt her mouth run dry again. “Yeah, good luck. Bring your pointiest fucking sword, too. He needs a new toothpick.”

Could Sam warn him in time? Even if they could, Christopher can't leave…

Danny gave Cyrus a vicious scowl. “You don't even know the fucking way. You're gonna get lost, or freeze to death, or—and this would really make my day—get eaten by wolves. I'm not fucking showing you how to get to him.”

Cyrus seemed wholly unimpressed by her display, rolling his eyes and gesturing toward the men holding Nathan. “We'll bring them both. Give our little princess some motivation.”

It felt as though Danny's lungs collapsed in on themselves. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of Nathan—fearful and shaking. “You…you can't bring him! He's sick! He can't—”

Cyrus closed the distance between himself and Danny in a single stride, grabbing her chin again and leaning in close. “Then you'd better get us there quickly, sweetheart.”

* * * * * * * * * *

How will they get out of this one? Does Sam have a plan? Is Cyrus as competent as he thinks he is? Find out soon...

Thanks for bearing with me and having patience for the longer than usual update. I might have to keep updates biweekly for a little longer, but we'll see. Thank you, as always, for reading and for your support! It means a lot to me.

[fatal-furry-mark-of-the-tigers]

Alright, I guess since Ao3 has a goddamn waiting list just to make an account, I'll vet this stupid fanfic here first. It ends on a light enough note without Griffith's usual shit, but it is still generally explicit, so I'll just say CW: cock and ball torture, burning alive, French people, and put the rest below the title.

Jalter × Griffith - A Match Made In Super Gay Superhell [For The Extra Dysfunctional "Evil Gays"(TM)]

It was a dark and stormy night.

"Boy howdy, I sure do hate certain women of color!" said Griffith, quite misogynistically racistly, as he prepared his loins for a midnight rendezvous he would never forget.

He casually sauntered (very casually racistly) into a super duper spookums spooki old haunted mansion at midnight, hoping to scare some kids off the property so he could scam Old Man Jenkems out of his generational nepotism wealth from his distant Japanese ancestor, Old Man Janken-dono at a more leisurely racist pacist pace. No hippies or dogs were there to be found, but a faint screech could be heard from a dark corner of the Foyer…

"HEY MAN, YOU LOOKIN TO SCORE SOME FUCKING MAGIC GOTH PUSSY?!"

A scraggly screaming pedophile called to Griffith with his inside-est voice. It was none other than Griffith's idol himself, one of the OG white boy pedophiles of history, Gilles de Rais in his most dark purple pimp suit.

"Sir, I'm a big fan, but I'm more partial to magic goth dick myself," said Griffith with very racist sincerity thinking about Guts' sword-thick cock again, as was tradition every 2 milliseconds.

"OH, THAT'S NOT A PROBLEM! I GOT SOME INCUBUS CONNECTIONS WITH A MAGIC VTUBER WHO CAN HELP WITH THAT LATER!" replied Bluebeard Gilles de Rais with his entire French Blueballed Gilles de Rais nutsack.

"Oh! Cool. Will a $20 bill get me some light masochism until then?" responded Peter Griffith's Griffin Penis.

"HA! FUCK NO. GIMME THE $666.69 FEE OR MISS ME WITH THAT SHIT AND GET OUT OF MY OFFICE YOU FU-"

Bluebeard's words were cut short by Griffith's Femto Balls(Registered Trademark of LifeAlarm(TM)) being shoved in his usually wet throat encrusted in dried cum until the life drained from his eyes and gave him the world's longest case of Rigor Mortis known to man as he had fallen but could still easily GET UPPP(Registered Trademark of LifeAlart[Patent Pending])

"Oy! What's all the fucking noise, Gilles, you cunt?! You been LARPing as my pimp again, you giant bitch?!" shouted a less racist French voice about to have a very positive White Woman Moment with the nearest bystander.

It was Jeanne d'Arc Alter. She found her not pimp laying dead with his French White Flag flying 1.01 inches high.

"Oh hey, is he dead? Nice. So what's your deal, old lady? Anything I can do for ya? N-not because I l-l-like you or anything b-b-b-BAKA, I'm just contractually obligated by magecraft 'god' to follow a single order of whoever kills my former Master."

"Oooh, ok, I see what's going on here," Griffith racisponded racistfully. "In that case, I have a very clear simple demand…"

"Ah shit, you're a guy. Well, hopefully you're more interesting than the last pasty little twink that wanted to fuck the dragon…" said Jalter disgustedly.

"…Anyway, I'll cut right to the chase. I need you to take those big honking heeled boots and any other weapons at your disposal and go completely nuts on my Femto Nuts. Just absolutely fucking ruin me for life with cock and ball torture while I call you Guts and imagine you as my very platonic boy crush. I may tip later, but for now I~"

CRACK

"You don't gotta ask me twice, buddy!" said the mallgoth money printer grail baby with her right heel firmly impaled through his left Femto Ball into the floor. "Good thing I wore the Bayonetta-inspired gun heels tonight! She's such a girlboss, golly, I sure do hope whoever came up with or voiced her isn't an absolute piece of shit or a TERF or anything. That'd Grind My Guilty Gears hard enough to ruin my fucking day, I tell you hwhat!" she exclaimed before pulling her foot out and firing off several rounds of feet pic bullets into Griffith's Very Racist Free Willy.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAH, GODDAMNIT GUTS, YOU ARE A FUCKING FREAK TONIGHT, HUH?" he racistly rejoiced in his tomboy-hating testicular torsionnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGHHHHMMMMMNNNNJKFJKDGHSKHGDSUHGIHGEGJ E

"What the fuck kind of sturdy Legos(tm) is this dude Gorilla Glued(COPYRIGHT LAW IS VERY WELL-INTENTIONED, SOURCE: I MADE IT THE FUCK UP) together with?!" said J-Money(hi jeff <3) angrily as she fired several more rounds of magic JFK murdering bullets into his ribs and slashed his right Femto Ball against the spooky old wooden floor with a burning French Flag surrounded by the inextinguishable black flames of Amaterasu while his left one seemed to endlessly regenerate.

"KEEP GOING, GUTS! I SWEAR, I CAN ALMOST FEEL GENUINE EMOTION AGAIN, MAN!" shouted the Bigoted Berserker [1997 TV Anime] [Original Soundtrack Composed by Susumu Hirasawa] as he rapidly approached a True Berserk [1997] Number 4 GATTSU Moment(Trademark).

"Ughhh, this is getting old real fucking fast…" said world's angriest honorary non-French girl with a sigh. "LE GRUNDELMENTAL DU WHOREHAUSHAINE! OHOHOHO!" she screamed as stakes arose from the ground to imapale Griffith's Femto Cock and Balls(tm) and have the world's most tasteful weenie roast with the world's most tasteless weenie.

And before Griffith could make use of the World's Most Intense Edging Case(TM), it was done.

Griffith's tiny flaccid boyish twink sausage was burned to a crispy state of submolecular ashes that no French Monarchies past would ever even dare to eat as a status symbol.

"Pfft. Bitch."

The Tsundere Witch of the West kicked his teeth miles into the distance for the usual covering of her tracks and walked away thinking the job was finished and she could enjoy a good celebratory off-screen bang with her girlfriend, Goth King Arthur, when she heard a faint groan and glared back to see him holding out a jar of thousands upon thousands of pennies.

"Just…the…tip……." Griffith moaned misogynistly (he is still also very racist) before feeling the majority of the coins thrown through every part of his body and brain simultaneously like a barrage of gay ninja shuriken from an angry tired White Woman having the usual angry tired White Woman Moment(fucking trademark) with him.

"Fuck off. I'm gonna go bathe extra thoroughly and get my girlfriend's dick wet in a Shed somewhere."

She strutted away like a goofy goober, a gigglepuss loser even, as she carried the the 420 pennies left in the jar to go laugh at a Coinstar(DID SOMEBODY ORDER A FUCKING COPYRIGHT JOKE???) machine.

As she took her Swag off into the night, a van of Hippies arrived through a time warp to go have the worst Stand By Me(tm) Moment(fuckyoucopyright) of their young horny lives.

"Jinkies!" said Velma.

"Jeepers!" said Daphne holding Velma's asscheeks for comfort.

"Ruh Roh!" said Scoobert-Doo, curling up in a ball in Shaggy's strong lanky arms.

"Zoinks!" said Shaggy holding Scooby's asscheeks for comfort.

And of course, Fred came in with his own (Trademark)'d catchphrase to tie the bookend together with a resounding…

"Fuck."™cw

[alpineshift]

Oooh

eye trauma fic

?!? Please tell me more. Is this angsty because I’m totally here for that! And if it’s not then I’m still totally hete for it, always love your writing. 🩵

Plus: status on the Reporter AU? 😬

Gonna start signing off with this now 🧀

the eye fic 👁👄👁 it is kind of angsty! in yet another magical realism (I'm very predictable), underworld-ish setting, both Jack and Nico are on the run and they're both missing an eye. so I will say, if you're not into that kind of thing/find it icky, give this one a pass! but other than that...I don't want to reveal too much, just bc it's hard to describe without giving too much away LOL

and reporter au!! I'm sweating. I wrote a little more. but not a lot 🥲 I will happily share the little addition I have tho!! for my cheese pal!! 😊🧀

eye trauma fic

"Let go of him," the smaller man snarls from the floor, in spite of the guard's beefy arm mashing his face into the grimy stone ground. He writhes like a man possessed until the guard lifts him and slams him hard again, and the wind is knocked out of him. He wheezes for breaths while his companion sits stiffly and awkwardly on his knees, arms wrenched behind him in a tight hold.

The captain swaggers forward and rips his hood off in relish. For a delicate moment, everyone in the tavern seems to inhale and hold their breaths, waiting for something terrible to happen next.

But nothing does. The men stare down at the figure on his knees. The man on his knees stares right back.

"Captain?" one of the guards asks, uncertainly. The Wanted poster hangs limply in his hand. The sketch on it shows a young man, with close-cropped hair and a straight nose, dark eyes looking up in a striking gaze.

The man on his knees has long, scraggly hair, and a full beard. His nose looks a little more crooked. But more importantly, his left eye is covered by a thick leather patch, and the eye on the right looking up at the guards is a sharp, stunning lake-blue.

reporter au

“It’s nice talking to you, Jack,” Nico says, and he reaches out and catches Jack by the elbow. Jack’s brain immediately whites out. “During games, after them, and outside of them. You’re a genuinely interesting guy, so don’t talk about yourself like that, alright? I wouldn’t be here if you pissed me off.”

“Oh,” Jack says, a little faintly. “That’s. That’s nice. You’re smooth as shit, Nico.”

Nico flashes an amused smile at him. “Well, I do talk a lot for a living,” he says. His gaze darts over Jack’s form, and then he suddenly puts the car in park and just. Gets out of his car. Walks all the way around. And carefully eases Jack’s passenger door open.

He offers his hand and Jack takes it, blankly, allowing Nico to help him out of the car.

“Can you get upstairs okay?” Nico asks. They’re standing pretty close to each other. Jack can feel the warmth radiating off Nico’s front, even through their jackets.

“Yeah,” he croaks.

+ (also) +

Fuck it, Jack thinks, and throws all sense of reservations right out the window. Under the hot, perfect pressure of the shower spray, he takes himself in hand and lets his brain careen into everything he’s suppressed for the night.

Seeing the flush on Nico’s face as he laughs at the team’s jokes. The way his hair falls around his face, soft and sleek. The flutter of his lashes, the attractive curve of his mouth, the flutter of his lashes.

The feeling of his palm, hot and sturdy, pressed against Jack’s lower back. The scent of his cologne, deep and unobtrusive. The feeling of his breath against Jack’s ear when he asked him if he wanted to go. And the final nail in the coffin, the absolute K.O.—getting out of his car and helping Jack out of his seat. Who the fuck does all that.

Jack thunks his head against the tile, speeds up the strokes on his cock, and groans softly into the spray of the water.

[paytato435]

Chapter 13: Breach of Contract

Good Morning!

“Hey, there you are!”

“I’m here! Finally…”

“Girl, you said it was twisted, not fucking broken!”

“It’s not broken! It’s just a sprain. It should be fine in a couple weeks.”

“If you’re on crutches it might as well be broken. Go the whole nine yards.”

“Leo!”

“What? I’m just messing around.”

Everything felt numb. As if he were wrapped in the thickest blanket burrito. Wait, he could feel… no, his heart was pounding, but it was pounding inside his head. It seemed to be the only part of himself he could move. With pained effort, he managed to drag his eyes open.

“Hey! There he is! Good morning, big guy!” Raph’s big green face smiled warmly.

All eyes were on him. Leo, April, Raph, and Splinter surrounded him on all sides.

“Orange,” Mikey’s eyes snapped over to the small and scraggly fuzzball at his side.

“Hey Dad,” he groaned. Splinter held tightly to the box turtle’s hand, but Mikey could only feel a very distant pressure. He knew what his dad's hand felt like; it shouldn't feel like… well… nothing! It was as if his entire body rested on solid air. The only texture he felt was from the fabric of the pillowcase behind him.

He stared at the connection between himself and his dad. Why didn't he feel it?

“Where-?”

“We’re in the hospital,” Splinter explained. “But we’re all safe now, Michelangelo.”

Mikey looked around the room, but noticed two of them were missing.

“Donnie’s with Casey,” Leo answered before he could ask. “But he probably won’t wake up for a while longer.”

“What?” Donnie was still unconscious? What happened to him?

“Do you remember what happened, Mikey?” April asked gently.

“Why can’t I move?”

“So, you were like… sooooo heavily sedated, dude,” Leo gave him a nasty smile. “Doc said you won’t feel anything for a whole day!”

“What?” That didn’t make any sense. Why would they do that?

They must have seen the look on his face, because Raph’s little chasm deepened with worry.

“Your shell is fucked bro.” It seemed Dr. Delicate Touch was rubbing off a bit onto Leo.

“And your arms, a bit,” Raph added, in a much gentler tone. “Your left is just grazed, but your right…”

Mikey looked down to his shoulder and saw nothing, because everything there was to see was wrapped tightly in bright white bandages.

“I couldn’t move it before,” he remembered trying to support himself on the wall back at the facility.

“Yeah, it’s kind of messed up at the moment, but it should recover. The bullet passed right through and tore some ligama-whatsits,” Raph explained. “But apparently the doctors here did their magic and it should be right as rain in a few days.”

“I can’t move it for days?”

“You almost lost it, my son, you are very lucky,” Splinter pointed out. “And I know I’ve already said this to you all already…” he gave the stink eyes to his other children, and they groaned. “But you should have called me! Running off on your own like that was extremely dangerous!”

The box turtle wilted with shame. They should have reached out to Dad immediately. He must have been so worried.

“I’m sorry Dad,” Mikey sniffed. Splinter patted his hand and gave a sad smile.

“I know, Orange. But you really scared us there. I’m so happy you made it home safe.”

“How is Donnie?”

“He’s doing great!” April spoke up. “He made it out of it unharmed, amazingly enough.”

“Then where is he?” Mikey gave a confused look to Leo.

This time it was Leo's turn to look embarrassed. He rubbed his arm with his thumb nervously before admitting, “Casey’s got a concussion. Donnie's keeping an eye on him in another hospital.”

“What?! Casey’s hurt?”

Leo nodded. “Aderman knocked him in the head pretty good. He should be okay too, but he hasn’t woken up yet.”

Oh. He’d gotten them switched around in his head. Wait… Mikey noticed something was off with Leo’s face. He narrowed his eyes at the slider. It was covered in nasty cuts and bruises.

“What happened to you?”

“It’s… it’s a long story,” Leo averted his eyes, crossing his bandaged arms.

“Leo…”

But just then Leo’s phone buzzed.

“Purple!” Splinter’s face lit up as Leo dug out his cell.

“Bueno,” Leo hummed casually.

Donnie’s voice could barely be heard on the other side.

“Of course, I’ll be over there soon! Hey hey guess what, the Mikester’s up too. Yeah. Really? Well, don’t let him in. What do you mean he’s already there?”

Leo took a quick glance around the room. “Gotcha gotcha. I’m on my way. Ciao!” The moment Leo hung up, Splinter and Raph both gave him the same suspecting look.

“Who’s over there?” Raph asked.

“Who?” Leo asked, repeated dumbly. “I dunno what you’re on about. Donnie needs help with somethin’. I’ll be right back,” he spoke so quickly Mikey had a hard time keeping up. At the same time, the slider whipped out a single katana and cut open a portal.

“You broke another one?” Mikey groaned, noticing the second empty scabbard.

“The doctors said you’re gonna have a wicked scar on your shell, hermano,” Leo winked before disappearing.

“Wait what?!” Mikey squeaked, partially confused by the sudden change in topic. Looking helplessly at his remaining brother, Raph only offered a shrug in response.

“It’s a shell, not skin, dude. Best we can do is staple it back together.” He pointed with a thumb to the chip in his own carapace.

Mikey groaned. How was he supposed to keep up his sweet baby charm with a shattered carapace? It took him another two seconds to realize Leo had already left them behind.

Stop

When Leo stepped into Casey’s hospital room, he tried to mentally prepare himself for what was likely an unpleasant encounter.

“What are you doing here, Synth?” the slider greeted cheerfully.

The bobcat stood with his back to him, facing Casey, who was still asleep in bed. Like Leo, his Casey’s head was also heavily bandaged. At least he didn’t look as bad as Mikey, but Leo’s stomach still churned. It was his fault Casey had gotten hurt.

When Synth heard the slider, both his bobbed tail and ears twitched to attention. He turned his head and narrowed his creepy round eyes.

“There he is,” the yokai growled.

Leo put his remaining sword back into its sheath, and grimaced as he recalled what he had just done to the other only a few hours ago.

He also remembered that he'd tried to kill Aderman. He still wasn't sure how he felt about that.

“What’s up, man? How’re you doing?”

Synth did not look impressed.

“You brothers are reckless,” he growled. In the corner, Leo could see Donnie roll his eyes. He was sitting in a chair by the window. They’d heard that enough before.

“We’re working on it,” Leo shrugged, trying to look unbothered.

"Oh really? Because it sure doesn't look like it!" Synth snapped raising clawed hands toward both Casey and Leo's face.

"I heard your "sword" shatter from across town! You've learned nothing!"

"I had to defend us somehow-" Leo tried to defend himself.

"And you failed to do so. Your brothers are hurt because of you-"

"Shut up!"

The bobcat froze.

"That's inaccurate," Donnie told them quietly.

"Donnie…"

"It's my fault. I never should have gone sneaking about without you guys." Donnie looked over to Casey, who was somehow still sleeping through their escalating argument. Once he'd heard Mikey was stable, he'd refused to leave Casey's side, even though both Splinter and April offered to watch him. The guilt written all over his face was evident.

"Donnie, it's not your fault those guys were mondo evil-"

"But it's my fault for being stupid!" he interrupted, his arms and fists tense at his sides. "We keep throwing ourselves into situations without actually thinking things through! I could have handled it so much better if I wasn't so…"

He couldn't even finish his thought. He choked up, and tears started welling up in his eyes.

Leo glanced over at Synth, who was eyeing the soft shell curiously.

"I think you should go."

The bobcat's nose twitched. "I will gladly, but I was hoping Casey would wake up before we went back to the Hidden City."

"We?" Leo asked, confused.

Donnie gave the yokai a dangerous look. "Synth told me he's going to take Casey back to the Nexus."

"You what?! Why?"

"He's been sneaking over there everyday this week," Donnie explained.

“You were tracking him,” Leo remembered.

"Because he was a mess after the pizza place fiasco," Donnie defended.

Leo looked over to Casey. This couldn't be right. Just yesterday he had been having what he thought was a heartfelt conversation with the kid. Had he made all of that up?

"What's… what's he doing at the Nexus?" he asked, unable to keep his voice from cracking.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that," Synth answered coolly.

"Well then you can't take him," Leo answered simply.

"I have to."

"Over my dead body, he's injured!" the slider growled.

"He'll be safe. We'll look after him there."

"That's not the point!" Leo hissed, moving between Casey and the yokai.

Synth gave Leo a glare, but the slider held his ground. "Tell me what's going on here."

"It would be in everyone's best interest if you let me take him."

"It would be in my best interest if you fucked right off."

Synth's ears twitched. "You don't fully believe that."

"Well if you won't tell me what the fuck is happening then what am I supposed to believe?"

Synth looked past Leo over to where Casey was resting.

"Tell me what's going on," Leo insisted.

"Leo…" Leo looked over to Donnie, who pointed back to the bed. He spun around, and saw Casey, now awake, watching him.

"Case…"

"Good morning, sunshine," Donnie gave the human a tight lipped smile.

"Morning?" Casey mumbled, confused, his eyes moving around the room until they landed Synth. He flinched, his eyes widening in fright.

"Yeah, mornin' sleepyhead," the yokai growled. "You've missed yer appointment."

All of the sudden, the color drained from Casey’s face. The kid looked like a frightened rabbit, his eyes darting from Synth, to Leo, to Donnie and back again in rapid succession.

"Relax, man. I ain't told them anythin'."

"But you're going to," Leo said, crossing his arms.

"No!" Casey yipped, causing the three of them to jump. "No he is not. No he’s not no he's no he’s not…" Casey pulled his knees up to his chest.

"Please don't… please don't tell them," he pleaded, his eyes glued to Synth.

"I'm not," the yokai agreed, giving Casey a reassuring nod. "But you have to come back to the Nexus… now."

"He's not going with you!" Leo protested.

He turned to face Casey again. "What's happening, Casey? Has Big Mama done something to you?"

Casey just shook his head slowly, wincing as he did so, but that may have just been from the pain.

"I have to go Leo," seemed to be all he could say.

"You literally have brain damage! You can't just-"

"Stop."

Leo stopped.

Casey furrowed his brow and stared down at his bed sheets. "Stop yelling. It hurts."

"Your injury has made you more sensitive to light and sound," Donnie pointed out. "You should be keeping activity to a minimum. The Battle Nexus isn't the best place to rest."

"I'll be fine," Casey grumbled, running his hands through his hair.

Out of the corner of his eye, Leo noticed Synth's ears twitch. Not that Leo needed the confirmation- it was clear that Casey was lying.

"Casey, remember what I said the night before?"

Casey didn't even look up.

"You can tell us anything; we're here for you."

"I can't," he answered in barely a whisper. "I really, really wish I could, Leo. But I can't."

"Why not?"

Casey didn't answer.

"Casey!"

Casey carefully pulled the covers back and slid himself out of bed. He shook as he stood, but took Synth's hand when it was offered.

Tears were running down his nose as he kept his eyes on the floor.

"I'll be back soon," he told Leo quietly.

"But-"

"You should really focus on yourself," Synth growled. "I told ya what we should do. We can't move forward with what we discussed until ya do."

Synth snapped his fingers and one of Big Mama's red-violet portals materialized behind him.

"With what? With the knife?"

Synth's bug eyes were unreadable.

"Of course,” he confirmed. “I mean what I said. Things can't stay as they are. If they do, a lot of people are gonna be hurt. You get yer shit together, then we’ll meet again."

"Geez, I'd be honored," Leo sneered, but the malice evaporated when he saw Casey taking careful steps toward the portal.

"Do you really have to do this, Casey?"

When Casey brought his eyes up to meet his, Leo was surprised to see that they were focused. He was terrified, obviously, but there was something there fighting for dear life. It was a desperate determination that was intimidating enough that Leo took an involuntary step back.

"I do."

"Fine, go."

Casey seemed immune to Leo's pout; he turned and stepped through the portal first, Synth following him through promptly.

The room went dark as the violet light dissipated. The twins were left in silence.

“What a total asshole,” Donnie jeered after them.

Leo nodded in agreement, his arms crossed in a frigid posture. “Hey, do you still have that virus that IP bans any user from Minecraft?”

Donnie nodded sagely. “An excellent suggestion, Nardo.” He shook his wrist tech awake and began tapping away manically. “I'm working on a new one for Steam as well,” the softshell smiled mischievously. “He'll never be able to play video games online ever again. Pending an apology, of course.”

“Of course,” Leo rolled his eyes. “We aren't savages.”

“Of course, of course…”Donnie agreed before baring his teeth. He paused suddenly, and fished something out of a black duffel bag at his feet. Leo recognized the bag as the first aid kit from the tank. Donnie tossed a phone to him.

“I uh… forgot about Casey's stuff.”

Leo pressed the power button and Casey's lock screen flickered on. The background image was perfectly generic- almost embarrassingly so. Did this kid not have any personal interests?

Or he really just didn't want them to know him.

“I can't believe he forgot,” Leo squinted. “He never lets anyone touch this.”

“Should we see what's on it? I could probably break it open.”

Leo rolled the device over in his hand in thought. He really wished Casey would have opened up to them, but at the same time…

“No. Not yet,” Leo frowned, tossing it back to his brother. “He said he'd be back. Let's give him a day and he can explain things when he returns.”

“Fair,” Donnie shrugged, also looking the device over. “He better get back soon. He has a lot of explaining to do.”

What the Actual Fuck is Happening

When the twins returned to Mikey's room and let everyone know where Casey had gone, the room quickly erupted into chaos.

He did what?

Why?

What about his head?

We should have been there!

“You should have stopped him!”

Leo glared at his older brother for that last one. “I tried to talk to him. What was I supposed to do? Restrain him? Fight him while he has a fucking brain injury?”

“You shoulda stopped the cat man,” Raph crossed his arms. “Or portal them somewhere else! Anything!”

“Well sorry for not thinking of every possibility, hermano,” Leo scowled, dropping into a chair by Mikey's bed. The box turtle had fallen asleep while he was gone. “He said he'll be back.”

“And you believe him?!” Raph pressed.

Leo's eyes darted away as Raph rolled his.

“You're at least keeping an eye on him, right?” Raph asked Donnie.

“Of course! I'll know right away if something happens,” Donnie nodded confidently. The snapper sighed, and whatever frustration Leo had built up waned. Raph was just scared; they were all scared.

“I'm sure he'll be alright,” Leo assured them.

Nobody looked convinced.

April shifted in her seat. “He looked pretty messed up when we met up again, what happened to you both?”

“I fucked up,” Leo lamented, as he relayed to the others how he had broken his sword again and Casey had nearly died.

“She used my portals against me. I couldn't do anything.”

“Used them against you?” Donnie's head perked up in curiosity. “She stopped my weapons completely.”

“Bishop did the same thing,” Raph growled. “That's how Mikey got hurt. No clones, no cover.”

“Could he use your powers?” Leo asked, curious. Raph shook his head.

“No, thank God. Things woulda turned out a lot different if he did.” Raph looked over in concern at their youngest brother. Leo had trouble doing the same; he looked so… gone. He kicked himself for breaking the group up when they found Donnie. They should have all left together…

“It probably has something to do with the Krang they're keeping in there,” Apri pointed out.

“The what?!” Splinter and Donnie interjected at the same time. April took a moment to describe what the rest of them had already seen inside the facility.

“So they like, duplicated whatever… thingy… let's them cancel our powers out?” Raph figured.

“Is that even possible?” April asked.

“Why would they do that? Are they afraid of mystic energy?” Leo wondered.

“Why wouldn't they be?” Donnie suggested. “Magic is incredibly dangerous. The government sees the Hidden City as a huge potential threat. And if there's conflict between yokai and humans-”

“They want to come out on top,” Raph finished. “Getting ready for a fight that may not even happen; cowards.”

Leo noticed Donnie shift uncomfortably, but didn't say anything.

“That might be presumptuous, but I also would not be surprised,” Splinter sighed. He turned to April. “I know you were curious to find that dangerous chemical, but after everything that has happened, perhaps you should pause your investigation.”

“What?! No way!” April protested immediately.

“You can't even walk, Apes,” Raph pointed out.

“I can get around if I need to,” she insisted. “And there are other ways to find out what the EPF is doing besides breaking and entering.”

“We don't even know if they have the herbicide, Boringson may not have been involved with them at all,” Donnie pointed out.

“You think it was a coincidence?” April asked with disbelief.

“Hold on there guys,” Raph interrupted. “What's the EPF?”

“The so-called Earth Protection Force,” Donnie explained. “The government agency that is using the facility.”

“Their logo was plastered all over the building, don't you remember?” April asked Raph.

Raph looked confused. He clearly did not. “Thought Mikey said they were the Men in Black.”

“Ah yes, my bad, I forgot to consult the goober dying from blood loss,” Donnie rolled his eyes. Leo kicked him. “Ow!”

“Well, regardless of if they know anything about the herbicide, we should probably do something about the fact that they are, I dunno, keeping and torturing a live alien species?!” April asked. “We should stop them!”

“You mean the killer alien that wants us all dead? You want to help her???” Donnie asked.

April crossed her arms. “I don't think she deserves what's happening to her now. You didn't see it but…”

“It was messed up,” Leo finished. “I don't like it, but I think April's right. The problem is, I don't know what we could do about it.”

“We take the pictures I got and publish them, get the public to see what's happening.” April explained. “Then, when my ankle's okay again I'll find out what Aderman was up to. And from what Splints was saying, she's probably not going to be getting up to much of anything, maybe… ever.” she looked over at Leo.

“That wasn't my idea!” Leo jumped, panicked. “That was all Casey!” Donnie gave him a curious look, Raph looked down at the floor.

“What was Casey's idea?” Donnie asked, confused.

“You didn't see her?” Leo asked his brother. “She was like… shit, dad… we left her die!” He looked over at his father with horror.

Splinter narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, as if he were trying to remember what had happened.

“She wasn't there when we left, Blue.”

“What?” Leo looked over to his twin. “You didn't see her?”

Donnie shook his head. “It was just you three when I woke up.”

That… couldn't be right.

“There's no way she just got up and walked away,” Leo argued. “You should have seen her, her legs were… Casey…”

Leo felt like he was going to be sick.

“We were going to kill her.”

…

Leo had a hard time looking up at his family. It had never really been something they had had to consider. Casey hadn't considered it at all. In fact, the more Leo thought about it, the more it made sense. Casey grew up in a world where everything was always trying to kill him. And to his credit, Aderman was trying to kill them.

Leo pulled his legs up to his chest and looked over at his dad again.

“You all need rest,” Splinter sighed, crossing his arms under his robe. “Especially me! You’ve all given me enough to worry about in one night for the rest of my life! We can talk about it more tomorrow.”

Leo frowned. “Shouldn't we be talking about this now? Casey butchered that woman, and if he hadn't… I was gonna… I did-”

“What do you want me to tell you, Leonardo?” Splinter asked, raising a scraggly brow. “You protected your family.”

“Did I?” Leo asked. “I didn't do shit! Casey saved himself!”

“You saved your brother.”

��Not for long! We'd have been fucking dead without Case, and I… I don't…”

Leo didn't want to say it out loud, but he was pissed at Casey. He had done the right thing, and Leo hated that. When Leo was useless, Casey picked up the slack. And now, Casey was gone.

Leo was supposed to be the leader, and he couldn't even keep his team together. He should have never split the team up.

“Pops is right, Leo; we should sleep on it,” Raph told him gently.

“Sleep on it? On this?! On Casey just fucking leaving us? On THIS whole situation??” Leo gestured to Mikey. “There's no way I can just-”

“Enough!” Splinter interrupted him. “Mind your voice, Blue. People are resting here!” Splinter turned to his oldest son.

“Red, take your brothers home. I will stay with Orange.”

“Are you sure pops? I can stay with him…”

Splinter shook his head. “You've all been through so much, and you're too noisy! Go home!”

“But Dad-” Leo tried to cut in, but the glare from the rat man shut him up immediately.

April pushed herself up carefully from her chair and onto her crutches. “We're gonna be okay, Leo. Well, at least until my mom sees me.”

“I'm surprised she still lets you hang out with us, really,” Donnie shrugged.

“Yeah… well… there is a reason you met her after I moved out.”

The discussion of the many things Carol O'Neil would have to say to April continued as Leo portalled everyone home.

-

An hour later, the turtles were settled back home in Donnie’s lab. Despite their father’s best wishes, nobody was ready to sleep yet, and Donnie wanted to see what he could do about Casey’s shattered face mask.

“What did she have to say?” Donnie asked April on his phone after she had been dropped off.

“The usual, ya know? ‘You should always stretch before you fight supervillains! You forgot to share your location with me again!’ I really do try to remember. I need to be better at that,” April sighed, sounding very tired.

“I could send her my tracking data,” Donnie offered.

“That might be a good idea,” April admitted. “She will call you if you go somewhere suspicious though, I can't be held responsible for anything she says to you.”

“Yeah… I didn't mean my-” but Donnie was cut off by Raph.

“Guys, it’s late, and we still have a lot of shit to cover before we go to bed, can we bench this for now?”

“What do we still have to go over?” Donnie asked genuinely.

“Oh I don’t know,” Raph rolled his eyes. “Maybe the fact that Casey tried to kill somebody!”

“In self defense,” Donnie scoffed. “Can you blame him?”

“Yes I can blame him! He didn’t need to do that!” Raph snapped back.

“You weren’t even there!”

“You weren’t even awake!”

The both of them turned to Leo expectantly. He was really hoping they wouldn’t do that.

“Me? I don’t… I don’t know… he did what he had to, I guess…” Leo supposed, sinking down into Donnie’s futon. “But he only had to because I couldn’t beat her. So really, it’s my fault. I’m sorry, Raph.”

Raph’s expression softened. “It’s not your fault buddy, you did the best you could.”

“But now he’s gone! He wouldn’t have gotten hurt or had to leave if it hadn’t been for me!”

Raph scratched his head. “Yeah, I wanted to talk about that too. You said he was taken to the Nexus right?”

Leo nodded.

“I was actually, uh… plannin’ on going on a walk around there… uh… tomorrow.”

“That’s not vague or suspicious at all, Raphala,” Donnie crossed his arms. The snapper chuckled.

“Heheh, yeah. Well, you see… I’ve been doin’ some investigatin’ of my own,” he admitted, looking a little flustered. “While you guys have been at school ‘n stuff.”

“Your own investigation? Have you like, started a detective agency or something?” Leo asked sarcastically.

“Maybe?” Raph answered, tucking his head into his shell as far as it would allow (which wasn’t all that much, to be honest).

“What do you mean, maybe?” Donnie asked, leaning in and raising a magnifying glass from his workbench to peer at his massive brother. Raph leaned away from the scrutiny.

“Well, Casey and I have been lookin’ into some missing persons cases around town, lately.”

“Instead of him going to school?” Leo asked, confused.

“No no! Uh, Cassandra,” Raph clarified. Leo squinted at him, and couldn’t help but notice his face was a little… flushed? “It was her idea. She’s been obsessed with mystery novels recently, and decided to become a P.I.”

“A private investigator?!” Donnie exclaimed. “That’s so cool! Why didn’t you tell me, I could be her guy in the chair, outfit her with secret agent gadgets?!”

“It’s uh, it’s just a little thing she’s working on,” Raph explained nervously. “She’s been trying to find herself and all that, you know? She just occasionally asks for my help.”

“And so she’s asked you to go into the Hidden City? What’s there?” Leo asked, curious.

“Well, we weren’t exactly sure at first, but there’s been at least three people that have disappeared around the Battle Nexus in the last month. Additionally, a lot of the mutants we’ve had run ins with before have also gone missin’. Usually after somethin’ bad happens to them.”

“Like Repo?” Donnie asked. “His lot’s shut down temporarily.”

“Exactly like Repo,” Raph nodded. “Him, Meatsweats, and Todd have all gone rogue. Meatsweats was running a shady food truck anyway, but Todd’s puppy park is in danger of being shut down too. Somethin’ to do with zoning violations.”

Donnie’s lips puckered. “I may have neglected to check the requirements before we started construction on that.”

Raph nodded. “Anyway, Casey noticed those people disappearin’ round the Nexus, and now you’re telling me Junior has been there the last few days and isn’t sayin’ anything? That’s incredibly suspicious.”

“You think Casey has something to do with this?” Leo asked.

“I’m not saying he is, but if he’s been in the area, chances are he knows somethin’,” Raph figured. “So I’m going out tomorrow to see if there’s any signs of those kids around in the city. It might be a long shot, since it’d be pretty hard to hide humans down there, but I think it’s worth a look.”

“Why not just go to the Nexus and ask Big Mama herself?” Donnie asked.

“Aside from the fact that Casey actively doesn’t want us there?” Leo added.

“I was planning on it, actually,” Raph admitted. “But after everything that’s happened just today, I thought it might be smarter to try a more indirect approach. No offense Donnie, but we don’t need a repeat of last night happening so quickly.”

“None taken,” the soft shell assured him confidently.

“I want to go with you,” Leo told Raph, straightening up. “I need to find out what’s going on with Casey.”

“You have school tomorrow, I was going in the morning.”

“I don’t need to go to class,” Leo lied. “I can miss a day and be fine.”

“How about we reschedule? You can come with me in the afternoon?”

“And sit in class all day wondering if Casey’s okay? No way!”

“I’m not even looking for Casey!” Raph argued. “I said they might be related. If you want to go after him, go on your own.”

Leo grumbled and crossed his arms.

“He said he’d come back, remember?” Donnie offered, putting a hand on Leo’s shoulder.

“He did,” Leo mumbled. But that didn’t mean he had to believe it.

Breach of Contract

Casey was led straight into Big Mama's office.

“There he is!” Mama sighed as Synth pushed him to stand in front of her desk. She drummed her nails impatiently on its reflective surface. Casey winced in annoyance at the sound, but she didn't notice.

“Where on earth have you been?”

Casey looked down at the carpet and clumsily wiped his tears away.

“Don't look down!” she snapped. “Look at me!” Casey flinched, but complied, blinking repeatedly in a failed attempt at keeping back fresh tears.

Deep breaths. 1… 2… 3…

“Where were you?” she asked again, squinting her eyes. The question came not from a place of concern, but as an accusation. He focused on the frames of her delicate glasses, avoiding eye contact as best he could.

“I was… was… in the hospital,” he choked.

“Why weren't you here?” she hissed.

“I was knocked out. If I could have, I… I would have been here-”

“But you weren't!” Big Mama snapped. “Why were you knocked out? What happened to your himbly head?”

Casey squeezed his eyes shut.

“Nah ah ah! Eyes on me,” she insisted.

He felt like he was about to fall over. He spread his feet and bent his knees slightly to steady himself.

“I… could you repeat that?”

“Why were you at the EPF laboratory?” she hissed.

He tried to slow his breathing. “Uh… Donnie was… he was taken there. We were trying to break him out-.”

“And you got more than you bargained for, hm?”

“Yes,” he said simply instead of nodding.

“Stupid.”

“Stupid?”

“It's only been four days, foozle! And you've already breached your contract! You put yourself and my entire operation at risk! If you meant to keep your appointments as seriously as you should have, you would have not put yourself in such a hasslydoo in the first place.”

He should have never gone? Casey looked down at the floor, perplexed. It hadn’t occurred to him to not go save Donnie. He had to… right? Even if it had ended up hurting himself…

It had hurt him so much. Now he was trapped here. Yeah, this was Donnie’s fault. He should have never ran off alone in the first place.

“What… what happens now?” he asked quietly.

She stretched out an upturned hand, expecting him to know the answer. He did. Casey felt like his spirit might just leave his body. To be stuck as a turtle again on top of all this was the last thing he wanted. He looked down at his ankle, and realized he couldn't make himself bend over.

“I can't reach it,” he whimpered. If he moved his head too much, he knew he was going to fall over.

“Yes, you can,” she insisted wickedly.

Casey took another deep breath. He wanted to curl up into a ball and die. (How he'd get there, he wasn't sure.) Instead, he kneeled, keeping his head as upright and still as possible. Of course, he stumbled and, losing his balance, tripped over his own feet and fell onto the carpet. He yelped as the pain in his head followed. Synth took a step away, and he could hear the spider woman's irritation as she clicked her tongue.

“Hurry up!”

He fumbled to sit up as stars danced across his vision. He clawed at his leg, his heart racing as he fought back more tears. It took too long, but eventually he got his trembling fingers around to untie the knot, and he shook even more as he felt his center of gravity shift. Without standing up, he slapped the ribbon onto Big Mama's desk, where he heard her snatch it up right away.

“Up on your feet!” she ordered.

It took him entirely too long to stand; he had to use her desk for support. And even when he was up, he still felt so dizzy that he continued to grip onto it for dear life.

Big Mama snapped her fingers, and Casey reluctantly looked up.

“I'm extremely disappointed in you,” she told him quietly, as if he cared about that at all. “I was really thinking things would go smoother than this. You seemed so determined…” she sighed. “Unfortunately, there are consequences for our actions, are there not?”

When he didn't answer, she snapped her finger again.

“Answer me!”

“Yes,” he answered through gritted teeth.

“Yes, Mama.”

“Y-yes, Mama.”

“That's better,” she whispered. Casey watched her fingers as she pulled at the ribbon until the fragment of Sunita's brooch was picked up between her two fingers.

“But it's not enough for now,” she sighed. She snapped her fingers a final time, and the fragment shattered into glass dust. Orange mystic light escaped and scattered into the air; the last vestiges of Master Michelangelo's magic dissipating into nothing.

Casey's breathing hitched.

“The box turtle…” she hummed as she watched the last of his glimmers fade. “Interesting.”

Casey swayed precariously enough, but now his knees buckled. In his mind's eye, he was losing his beloved uncle all over again.

“I need your apology, Casey,” Big Mama hissed. “And say it right the first time.”

He couldn't move his hands for fear of falling over, so instead the tears he blinked away were left to fall freely down his face. They dripped onto the lacquered surface he clung to; a surface so reflective he could see his pathetic face for just a moment before meeting her again.

“I'm sorry, Mama.”

“Good boy.” She whispered gleefully, before straightening.

“Now, you're free to go. Obviously, you don't need to see my stinkpot again. However… if you do wish to stay here, I suppose she will still need guidance. And I have so many other odds and ends around here that you can make yourself useful with in the meantime, too. What do you think? Sound like a fair trade? An hour with Stinkpot for a night's stay at the most luxurious hotel in New York City. That's a hell of a deal if I've ever heard one.”

Where else would he go? He couldn't return home like this.

Brain Damage

At the ungodly hour of Casey's arrival, Sunshine was already asleep. Until she was up for the day, Casey was given a room on the same floor as all of Mama's other little projects. If he had thought Sunshine's room was claustrophobic, the atmosphere of his new lodgings was pointedly oppressive. The purples of Sunshine's room were replaced with a heavy maroon that seemed to pull the ceiling and walls as close together as possible. A hydra was mounted over his bed, black scaly necks twisted and reached across the room, their ruby eyes turned to threaten anyone who dared enter.

It reminded him he was being watched constantly. A pair of eyes on the door, on the bed, toward the closet- he had no room to exist in such a cramped and unwelcoming space.

And she wanted him to be thankful. Now that the fear and embarrassment was over, all Casey was left with was resentment. If he weren't in such god awful pain he might've thrown himself at the disgustingly elegant vanity, ripping out drawers and smashing them against the glass window.

And he didn’t forget why he was in this situation in the first place. If Donnie hadn't gotten his ass in trouble, this wouldn't have happened. Casey was starting to see a troubling pattern. Donatello could always have the best intentions, but it always seemed to end up in Casey getting hurt. He was sick of it.

If he tipped the wardrobe down with the doors open he could probably snap them off and break them in half over the remaining assembly. The hydra heads would have to go too of course, he didn't figure they could even support his weight.

It was a violent and childish fantasy, to take his anger out on objects where the source of his problems were all too far out of reach. And he couldn't even act on that.

He was completely and totally helpless.

The only thing he could do was crawl into bed and try to sleep. He didn't even bother to change out of his clothes. They were the only possessions he had brought with him, he realized; a pair of shorts, boots, jersey, and a hoodie. He didn't have his saw, his mask, his phone. God, he hoped the turtles had those. He remembered his mask shattering, and the saw in Aderman's chest…

He hoped that bitch was dead. fuck that bitch was crazy. She had somehow copied both Donnie and Leo’s mystic powers! That was extremely troubling, especially given what he knew about how their powers worked. As far as Master Michelangelo had figured, there were only a few circumstances that someone could use Hamato ninpo.

First and most blatantly obvious, you had to be Hamato. That was the biggest strike against Aderman. As far as he knew, Hamato Yoshi had been the only descendant of the clan. And even if Aderman was somehow distantly related to them (as unlikely as it was), she would have to have a strong relationship with the family to even use those powers.

She didn’t seem to be the type of woman to have close ties to her family. Especially with her particularly villainous outlook on life.

Casey felt his stomach turning into knots. That family connection was the deciding factor. He knew it was why he couldn’t access his own ninpo, even if he knew it was there and had been aware of it for as long as he could remember. He had thought his connection to his sensei and Master Michelangelo would have been enough, but it never really clicked.

And it didn’t click here either, of course, because he couldn’t allow himself to open up to the Hamato clan in the present. He was also fairly sure that if he did open up to them, it would shatter Leo’s connection to his ninpo again. Because while he had never said it out loud, Casey was fairly sure sensei had permanently damaged his connection to his mystic powers after his fight with Donatello. And if that had never happened, perhaps they’d all still be alive today… er, in the future. Casey wouldn’t even have to be here.

He had once again circled back around to this being Donatello’s fault. The fucker seemed to live rent free in Casey’s head.

He threw himself (as gently but angrily as possible) under the covers, grabbing also his hoodie and pulling the drawstrings in an attempt to block out everything. As he curled up into a fetal position, the only thing comforting him was that at least the fabric still smelled like home.

————-

Notes: Today’s subchapters related to Casey are Pink Floyd songs. I can’t help myself; The Wall and Dark Side of the Moon just start playing in my head when Casey is in pain. It’s a whole fucking MOOD.

Prev. Masterpost Next

[mx-mongoose]

ROTTMNT characters if they were in 2012

Casey Junior 💀🏒

- So its the future timeline. Casey and April are still alive, Donnie hasn’t turned himself into a robot yet. All of them in their early 20s. Raph still has amnesia though.

- Its hard to say it Casey senior is thriving or not. Like he’s definitely vibing with Mad Max thing going on, but he does mask (no pun intended) a lot of his emotions behind his arrogant persona. He really misses his little sister. He misses playing Hockey too but with how dry it is its virtually impossible.

- He found Junior in a dumpster while scavenging for food. The baby was injured and malnourished like its been sitting there for a while. Casey took the baby back to the ShellRaiser.

—

“Casey, what is that?” Raphael pointed at Casey’s cape, which was wrapped up like a swaddle and was crying.

“Guys I can explain-“ He croaked but was immediately cut off.

“CASEY, IS THAT A BABY?!” April shrieked, rushing over and peering over Casey’s arms.

The baby had scraggly black hair prickling from his head and had minor injuries all over him. His face was boney though when it was supposed to be brimming with plump and fat. He was wailing like mad and grabbing at nothing.

“No, it's a dog I found,” Casey quipped mirthlessly

“I’ll go find if there’s anything they can eat!” April was on it as she rushed to the small pantry they had.

“Oh my god, out of the most boneheaded decisions you’ve ever made this takes the cake, Jones,” Donnie exclaimed, gesturing towards the baby.

“Can babies have regular milk, Red?” Casey ignored Donnie’s insult and hovered over April who was pushing way canned rations.

“No, but the milk grew some mold anyway,” April shook her head, not breaking focus.

“Do gas stations have formula?” Casey asked, quick and stern. Moreso than he's ever been in a while

“Dude, the baby is gonna die anyways! Its a liability,” Donnie stated, pinching the bridge of his beak. “We barely have enough food for our-“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR ONCE, DON,” Casey screamed at purple masked turtle, his voice making the baby sob louder if that was even possible. Venom spit from his voice and hugged the baby to his chest.

“What do you want me to?! Throw it out the window!” He continued to retort.

“Maybe if it means we won’t starve to death!”

“The dude won’t even eat the same food as us, he just needs milk!”

“And when it needs to eat the same food as us?!”

“Its gonna eat smaller portions as us anyways!”

“Raph, say something!” Donnie demands, quickly averted his gaze towards his big brother. He was sitting in the drivers seat in deep thought, gripping the steering wheel and staring at nothing.

Casey pushed away Donnie and towards his best friend. “Raph, please. I can’t let the little guy die. If there’s even just the smallest chance I can save him,” He pleaded. Casey Jones never pleaded or begged, he got what he wanted and would never take no for an answer. But this time he was desperate.

“Please, dude,” It came out as a raspy whisper, holding out even the tiniest bit of hope.

Raphael groaned before looking back towards the baby and then Casey, “You’re really serious about this kid huh, Jones?”

“You’d know if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here,”

Raphael stared at Casey for a long time. He couldn’t tell if the Terrapin was looking for something, tired or both but eventually it ended with a dry-

“There should be some abandoned daycares nearby, if we book it then we’ll get to one of them in five,”

A thankful smile grew on Casey’s face and sighed in relief. The exasperated squawks of Donatello going in one ear and out the other.

—

- The ragtag group tried their best with Junior. Donnie installed a crib connected to the wall, they usually gave the soup and soft foods to Junior, took turns staying up with him, you’d be surprised how much stuff you can substitute for baby diapers.

- They came up with Casey Junior because Casey decided on it and wouldn't budge. Claiming "He's named after the strongest and badass warrior I know,

Junior actually gave all of them their titles once he learned how to speak.

Casey is dad

Raphael is Raphie

Donnie is Don-Don

April is just April and she was so salty about it.

Despite being raised by literal warriors and vigilantes, in nature he was a pretty gentle and docile kid. Sure he knew when to defend himself the time called for it, but overall a good kid to say the least. (Also still a total fanboy, constantly wanting to hear stories from before and his family's adventures when they were young)

He still has his Hockey Stick chainsaw but it was originally Casey's before he passed. Its less advanced and quality as Rise's but it still gets the job done. Casey's mask was passed down as well

I'd say the main difference between him and Rise is that he's a lot less formal and regulated. Instead of growing up in the resistance, he was just adopted by a ragtag team of nomads. He's less like a soldier and more of a kid just trying to figure himself out while growing up in a post-war earth. He knows how to survive and knows battle techniques but not to the capacity as Rise. He's a lot looser with his stratagies if that makes sense.

Once they found Mikey and Leo, GOD was Junior just gawking and fanboying all over the place. Leo and Mikey were just stunned Casey had a kid and he's still alive. Though they were hurt to hear about his and April's passing

Debating if I should a part 2 about if he was sent back in time too

[the-light-finds-its-way]

So I missed my annual national coming out day post!

But anyway, here's your trans Titan being a shirtless Titan!! I wear my surgery scar loud and proud, and in fact, the night I took this photo was during a con, and a guy dressed as Jesus saw me shirtless with my gay flag swim shorts, passed by, and said, "Blessed be, my child!"

YES!!!!!

This year, my beard FINALLY started coming in. It's not thick yet, it's scraggly and curly and itchy as allfuck. But! I love it nonetheless!! It's a BEARD!!!! THE thing I have wanted for YEARS!!!!! I've been on testosterone for 5.5 years now, and I'm so SO happy with the changes it's brought to me, even though they're so slow.

I've, in the past year, gotten a gender-affirming haircut! My first haircut in almost 20 years!! I buzzed my sides, then took my super fucking long Viking hair, tied it back, and braided it. I look even more like a modern-day Viking this way lol.

In my college's creative writing magazine, I published a short story about the troubles on my first walk as a man, going out in public as the entire opposite gender of what everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, knew me as. I live in a tiny town of under 20 square miles, and here, you know everyone and everything about everyone. It's horrible, the anxiety of going on that first walk. But man, it's freeing. And I broke those binds years ago that held me down, and I've walked free every day since, being me. Being Magnus.

Anyway, be loud and proud, don't feel pressured to come out if you aren't ready, if it isn't safe to, whatever your situation may be. You are important, you matter, your safety and your life matter.

Love yourself, love your progress. Don't give up. :)

[the-fair-maiden-of-fandom]

more qjj livetweets but only on tumblr pt.3

|| so very many spoilers ||

omg a house on the border, the priceless smile,,,,,,,,, i cant with these two

oh damn. ownership kink really popped out there huh

so we can all agree that he's about to double cross and murder this man right

is it wrong for me to actually be kind of curious on whether he can dance. obviously he shouldn't but.

oh so he's mad mad. yeah he's going to die painfully.

HES A RAPIST ANNDDDD A PEDO??? DIE IN A FIRE

fuck that's so hot

…. dammit i had a funny feeling

he's gonna be the scraggly stranger isn't he

i stand so very corrected

i FUCKING knew it. i said!!! i said he was too nice right at the beginning but i couldn't tell what exactly was wrong about him

HOT GIRL SHIT

man the ring detail was a nice touch

ding tao badass arc?????? i love him!! go hide behind shen zechuan!!! 

fuck oh my god shen zechuan kill me next please

PUSSY

‘Zhou Gui liked Ding Tao so much at this moment that he wanted so much to acknowledge the latter as his son.’ as you should

wait what

okay there's the awful backstory id been waiting for. not as bad as it could’ve been tho. at least he’s not binghe

oh he gave him a piggyback ride,,,,, that’s totally not making me desperately want love or anything. my heart isn’t twinging at all

they’re so domestic i love them sm this scene is destroying me

jesus they’re so horny all the time

“let’s build a home” *body roll*

did they actually fuck in the hallway or did i read that wrong. 

no, they definitely fucked in the hallway

“I do not have the intention to take a concubine in this life.” yeah i bet, shen zechuan would rip his dick off. also he’s a simp

HE CALLED HIM HIS HEAD OF HOUSEHOLD??????? PUBLICALLY?????

aw, zhou gui :((

‘He remembered everything about Xiao Chiye. The only thing he could not think of was a way in which Xiao Chiye was inferior to Xiao Jiming.’ that’s love babe

ohhhhh his reunion that’s written so well what the hell my heart is so warmed

i’ll never get over just how broke xiao chiye is. the love interest is never broke

help the random wolf meme at the end of the chapter???

i can’ttttt this rando bandit is trying to marry off his sister to the guy hunting him down?? author, that’s such a random detail? i love it?

li xiong???? bro???

bro is WRESTLING a horse??? what the fuck do they feed you on bandit mountain???? protein powder and fertilizer??

alshjdnf kong ling a new addition to the wingman squad? more likely than you think

i just found this one i missed on twitter:  szc: *actively trying to kill him*    xcy, twirling his hair: omg that’s so hot do it again

“There will be a day we get to see it filled up when we are seventy or eighty years old.” planning your future together T-T

‘He looked at Shen Zechuan, who spread his hands out slightly and gave him an innocent look.’ woah babe it wasn’t me this time i promise

why are they so sweet to each other i love them and i’ll keep saying it

well of course he’s not happy. he wants to go back to bed with his boyfriend

‘If Cizhou dared lay a hand on Shen Zechuan, Xiao Chiye was sure to hasten there within a day.’ xiao chiye advocates Violence for those who hurt shen zechuan

aw, he wants to make him a fan???? if he wanted to he would

“Shifu dreads greasy food, and Ce’an gets cranky easily. Get the chef to choose and make some light dishes. You’re currently nursing an injury, so do as the physician and shifu say and get the kitchen to make an individual portion for you.” it feels like he has a little family

god i’d love to write a little adventures of zhao zui temple ficlet with ji gang and qi huilian fighting over raising shen zechuan. i feel like that’d be adorable

xiao chiye trying to win over ji gang is SO FUCKING CUTE how does shen zechuan LIVE

‘And just like this, Shen Zechuan sat in Xiao Chiye’s embrace and continued to do his accounts.’ it’s like that one gamer couple trend

OH MY GOD HE SAID I LOVE YOUUFHILIUS

[dzpenumbra]

7/18/23

I want to get to bed earlier tonight than I have been lately, so I'm going to try to keep this shorter than normal.

I went to the skatepark today. The smoke from the Canadian fires was back and I went anyway. It was pretty exhausting and I sweat like crazy, I had to take a ton of breaks. I didn't do anything too impressive, but I really wanted to get more comfortable on my board, so I just kinda focused on that. I was getting a bit spooked with the idea of ollieing onto an angled box, I kept riding up to it and then chickening out. It was only like 6 or 7 inches tall. But I was just spooked by it. So I made myself do it. And I ended up doing it a bunch of times without any problems at all. I was probably ollieing way higher than I needed to, but the feeling of just doing something I was scared to do just seconds before was really nice. And just getting comfortable with it and seeing it's really not that bad. So, all-in-all, skating was fucking great. I was beaming, I felt like a kid again. I had no shame really, I wasn't even that insecure, I just sorta embraced where I was at and just skated for the love of skating.

The ride up on my electric board... I was a bit nervous. I have to go through a not-so-great area to get there, which just so happens to be the area right next to the health center and the community center... and a block away from the police department... it's pretty clearly not a great area. Going up, I was a bit nervous. I forgot what turn to take and kinda... had to come to a stop for a minute and check my map. But I made it there fine.

Coming back was another story. At first... I was having no problems. In fact, most of the way was pretty much fine. Until I got to that same area by the train tracks and the community center and a dude flagged me down. I... stopped. I was just absolutely stunned that someone actually wanted to interact with me. There was one other kid at the skatepark and he was just on the other side of the tiny park the entire time and never even acknowledged me. This guy was like waving and yelling, asking me if I just rode down that hill on my board. I yelled back across the street that yeah, it's electric, and the brakes charge the battery, it's really cool. I seriously... in those moments, it is 100% my inner child coming out. I sound like a fucking 8 year old. And I love that about myself, I love connecting with that part of me, there's so much excitement and wonder and joy. Then... the guy came across the street.

I... actually was getting ready to let him try riding it. I don't fucking know why, honestly, I really shouldn't. He actually kinda stopped me, saying something like, "oh no, that belongs to you, that's okay." That's around when I noticed this guy was barefoot and had painted toenails. He had scraggly hair, he was missing one of his teeth. He had gigantic widely-open blue eyes and his pupils were pinned. He had a recent injection mark in his right arm. He had something stuck in his left foot and didn't seem to be aware of it. Meth, I'd put money on it. But I was just... oblivious. In the moment, I was just like "oh wow, someone wants to talk to me." And I told him I came from the skatepark and this is how I get to the skatepark, and he asked me if I was on a mountain, would I ski or snowboard... and I said snowboard. And he got excited and fist-bumped me. And that's when I saw the injection site and reality started to set in. He then said, out of nowhere... "okay, welp, I better go get that corpse out of the road." And walked off. I'm guessing it was roadkill or something? I was just like... in my head... "alright, um... guess it's time for me to get the fuck out of here..."

Wonder why I have social anxiety? This is really... a big part of why I'm scared of socializing. I feel like I just completely miss the gigantic red flags. I feel... inept. I feel like I put myself in unsafe situations, because... I just assume the best of people. I see the best in people. Compulsively. And that means that not only is my guard down, my guard is pretty much non-existent. I genuinely wonder... if this guy asked me if he could have my skateboard that was on my back... if I would give it to him. Me right now, most likely not. I mean, unless he was like part of an NA program and had a sponsor who could vouch for him and thought skating could get him off the drugs and turn his life around, then sure, absolutely. But me in the moment? I really don't know. I really don't know. And that shit scares me. It's been haunting me ever since.

I've honestly really been struggling to process that encounter. It's like... 2-3 blocks away from my apartment. There is an alternate route I can take to get to the skatepark that's through a suburban(ish) neighborhood. I have no idea if that neighborhood is any better, worse, or the same. But I guess... maybe next time just... if I see someone coming across the street trying to get my attention, trying to talk to me, in that area... maybe next time don't stop and talk to the dude. Even though nothing bad happened.

I don't know if I'm being paranoid. He didn't seem to have bad intentions, he just seemed... high. But after that interaction, I have just really... not felt safe. It doesn't make me want to go that way to the skatepark again. Is this an overreaction? Have I had these effects on people when they've observed me inebriated in public? Am I being fair? Am I underreacting?

I don't really know how to assess this situation, and the obvious solution would be... don't skate alone. It's really never a good idea... but I just don't really have a choice right now. So the best compromise I have come up with is just... stay away from that specific road.

Is it obvious that I'm not a city person? XD

I legit treated that interaction like I would've treated meeting another hiker in the woods. "Hey, how are you? How's your day? Can I offer you a gift of some sort? Tell me your story!" And this dude is tweaking, standing in the doorway of his apartment building, walking out into the road and shit. Now that I'm thinking back, there was even a truck that slowed down to like... scope out the scene and I'm guessing make sure everything was okay and shit. And even they probably realized it looked like a potentially unsafe situation.

I'm seriously... ugh, I'm trying not to get too anxious about this but my heart is going already. I really worry that I'm not cut out for this type of world. Like I said, when I am doing well... when I am confident and all that... I keep ending up in unsafe situations and like... not even realizing it. It makes me feel stupid. I'm just going to say it so I can get it over with and move beyond it. I feel socially stunted or oblivious, blind, dumb.

It's making me think of kayaking in the flooded river. Or just not going to the doctors when blood started pooling in my foot when I got a blood clot in my shin. Or getting on a plane and flying to Vegas alone for the first time with no hotel room and barely any plan. Reckless. Adventurous? Shortsighted. Impulsive. Optimistic?

I don't know how to read it. Part of me just wants to see the best in things and not let anxiety rule me... but encounters like these just... they fucking validate that anxiety so fucking much. I can feel it right now, that smug little shit in the back of my head chiming in over and over and over - "I told you it wasn't safe..." "I warned you." "You're lucky."

And then another part of my brain chimes in and goes, "these are just people. Not all drug addicts are thieves or violent people. You were nice and neighborly to a troubled person." "Maybe you could find some kind of work in rehabilitation or something, find a way to help these people out, since you just... compulsively see the good in people. I'm sure they appreciate being treated like actual people."

Then another part of my brain goes... "AAAAGHAAAHAHA!! WE'RE NOT SAFE! Don't go back there again! Don't make yourself a target! Lock the doors!"

So... inner conflict. That's really how I feel. And right after a really good skate session where I had a lot of fun and was beaming with joy.

I've been lost in my head trying to find a good analogy for how I feel in pop culture... nothing is coming to mind right away... so I'm just going to reference my GTA RP character - Raymond Holmes. I made a character that went through a personality facelift and I made him into basically... during the day he was a cool high school dropout kinda guy who wanted to become a stuntman, like a Jackass cast member... during the night, he reverted to an 8 year old child. The two personalities had no knowledge or awareness of each other. What I'm referencing here is... how people would treat Ray, the child persona. They were very well aware that they were interacting with an authentic child-like personality. And every fucking person tried to get him drunk or get him high, or make him commit crimes, or something corrupt. Every fucking person wanted to corrupt him. Or hurt him. For fuck's sake, he went up to a gang member and straight up told the gang member to their face that his friend was stealing the gang member's car - he negligently, naively ratted on his only friend. And the gang member beat the shit out of the friend... then beat the shit out of Ray with a golf club. ... Why? No clue. Barely even spoke to him. But he did, left him crying on the side of the road.

I feel like that. And I know that people... for some reason... find amusement in causing bad things to happen to innocent people. Corrupting the innocent. I know that good, passive, well-intentioned, child-like people are excellent targets. They are prey. And... I feel like I've kinda... ended up in a strange reversal of the situation I came from.

In my old environment, I could feel people looking at me like I was the rabid dog in the pack (ahh Kristoff Krane). Like I was the wolf wearing sheep's clothing, hiding amongst the herd. Because I would wear metal band t-shirts and I have tattoos, and shit like that... where I used to live, that was very out of place. Now? I feel like a sheep wearing wolf skin trying to blend in in the pack, and doing a horrible job.

How much of this is feeling and how much of it is reality? I really can't tell. That's the most confusing part. Maybe that interaction was... not the worst in the world? I want to be social. I want to be trusting. I want to see the best in people. And I really, really do. But... man, all it's gonna take is someone baiting me into a parking lot and then I get jumped or some shit. "Oh they just need a hand, better be a Good Samaritan."

I want to be a good person. I want to be innocent. I want to embody that childlike wonder and joy. But this comes with it. And it leaves me vulnerable to being exploited. Which is why I feel so unsafe. And... ultimately... if my material possessions (my skateboards, my sunglasses, my AirPods, my phone, my water bottle and my keyfob were all I had on me... I deliberately left my wallet at home) were just... things... it wouldn't be that bad. "Just take my board, I'll walk home." I file a police report, they don't follow up on it... I lose my form of transportation that I only really use to get to the skatepark. Maybe I buy a new one, maybe I don't? So... working on my level of attachment to my possessions would dramatically reduce the feeling of risk here.

But then there's the element of physical harm. I don't know why any idiot would risk committing a violent crime against a stranger on the side of a major street... but I guess stranger things have happened. And if someone had it set in their mind that they were going to harm me? What am I going to do about it? Fight them? Run? I don't know. I just wanna fuckin skate, man! Now I've gotta think about this shit?!

What blows my mind is that a lot of the populace think the skateboarders are the criminals. Good lord.

So yeah. I'm just... kinda processing. Again, none of these feelings really hit until after I got back inside my apartment. In the moment it was just like... "oh, poor guy. I wish he chose going out and living life instead of drugs. He seemed like this was something he might be interested in." And I just moved on. But when I got back, it started hitting how... that could've been a bad situation. And it started bringing back those memories of how I just stood there and listened to my former best friend from high school tell me horrific (like literally straight out of a horror movie) stories about the life she came from. It just all makes me so sad. So sad. How horrible people can be to one another. To themselves.

I guess it makes the work of being a good person, breathing light and love into the world, that much more important. Is that how this works?

I don't want to linger on this. I'm sure I will discuss this with my therapist at length on Thursday. I just... I really wish I met a new friend today... not a meth head. It's not really making me feel comfortable renewing my lease... XD But huge pat on the back to me for going out, getting exercise and braving the world today - warts and all. It was a very big step and well worth it, even with its surreal setbacks.

Other than that? A decent night's sleep. 4 hours, got up, read some of this Meditation in Action book that is just... probably the big core of my existential crisis with like... "how do you deal with situations like vehicle theft and potential physical threat as a pacifist without just being eaten alive?" It's hard because books don't talk back. Then I got back to sleep and rested well.

After dinner, I did more work on the grip tape, it's coming along. Most of the mandala basecoat is pretty much done... I think... depends on how big I want to make it. The bigger it gets, the more paint it's taking to fill. Kinda "no duh"... but it just means each step is more time consuming and it feels like progress is slower. And yeah, that was pretty much the day.

So... I'm gonna try to focus on the good here, that I was getting pretty comfortable on my board and I actually went and skated regardless of the smoke in the air and the late hour. And I had a lot of fun. I absolutely saw the dark side of letting my inner child take the steering wheel, but I really don't want to let that overshadow the huge plus-side, because I had a fucking blast.

[c-vomitoria]

tribute to the pigeon squad

gonna start using this blog to post various (mis)adventures i go on and what better way to start than with my best friends in all the world

besties <333

ive been around this flock for about 1 and a half years and ive gotten to know a few stand-out individuals so heres the ones ive named over that time !!! most of them are gone, either migrated away or dead i'm not sure, if they're still around i'll mention it specifically

this little guy's the first pigeon i ever thought to ascribe a name to after i saw them a few separate times at the subway station before work, their name is big boss

they were missing an eye and always hung around the back of the group not really stepping in with the others, i always tossed them some extra scraps of my breakfast away from the main group bc otherwise they'd never get their share. kept seeing them around for about 2 weeks or so at the station before they stopped showing up, i didn't name any others until i started going to the "main" feeding spot for the local flock a few months later.

this right here is acci! short for accipiter bc theyre a vicious beast, very much unlike big boss they never hesitated to jump into the crowd and slap other pigeons around with their wings for the best feeding spots or just for the hell of it. shown here consuming the flesh of a distant cousin (they *really* liked chicken whenever i brought any)

as much of a menace as acci was to the rest of the flock they were also the first one to get all attached to me and always sat on my arm whenever i came over with snacks, it was like their special perch and they always wanted to be hand fed

laelaps here didnt come around very often but always had a commanding presence, they usually hung back and just watched but never got bullied by anyone and would throw their weight around without much opposition if they did decide to step in. never got close to me but never gave the impression of being scared either, very respectable birb.

cheetodust (on the right) or just cheeto for short! every bit as scrunkly and scraggly in behaviour as they look. i'm not sure what was up with their cere for it to get all orange and crusty but the last couple times i saw them it seemed to be shedding with a more normal whitish cere underneath. this guy shat on my hands more than anyone else. no fear, no fucks given. not particularly aggressive or respected but very good at opportunistically darting around.

prima, queen of vermin. one my absolute favourites and one of the prettiest birds to ever live i will die on this hill no purebred show pigeon could EVER compete with this most regal of street urchins. i saw them around for a good while and they've always been pretty aloof, eventually they saw fit to sit on my shoes but for the most part they hung around in the back of the flock watching everything play out.

i was heartbroken when i'd counted a full month without seeing them but the other day i saw a pigeon with almost the same exact feather patterns on the head & upper torso mixed in with a standard wild morph on the rest of the body and i like to believe it's one of prima's offspring after they flew off somewhere else to find a mate. this bird is divinely protected and no harm can be allowed to reach them

if anyone can genuinely be called the big boss of the flock it's probably stalin here. theyve been around longer than almost anyone else, theyre still here, always patrolling up and down the street looking for the best bits of scraps and more pigeons to push around. if they want something they fight for it *hard*, and while other pigeons usually stop at hisses or wing slaps i've seen this particular old theropod bite their flock-mates on the neck over some grain. it never takes long for other pigeons to back down but they keep pressing afterwards just to drive it in.

just like with acci they also like to hang around me a lot, i guess it makes sense the tough brawler types aren't so scared of humans. they never really did it to get special food access though, they'd just sit there and preen or look around.

haku mainly stands out for being a real looker, with those big flashes of iridescence bordering their white chest. they're fairly run-of-the-mill socially, maybe even unusually so somehow. never causing any trouble or running into anyone, never getting into fights, never being pushed around either. just foraging where there's plenty of grain on the ground, staying out of people's way, resting in between snacks. a decent life all in all, and they seem happy about it.

i gave kohaku their name around the same time as haku bc there's some similarities in their appearance, the smaller white patches under the throat + some iridescent bits that don't really show up in this picture. turns out they'd been around for a hell of a lot longer than i thought - this particular picture was taken even before the big boss one, and there'd been several months between my last sighting of big boss and my first sighting of haku. that would make kohaku one of the very first of my named pigeons that i'd ever encountered, and i just didn't realise this picture *was* kohaku until very recently. and they're still around! i love them so much.

kohaku's always been one to approach me head-on and want to be hand-fed, and they do have a bit of the attitude that tends to go with that but not as much as the others. a little bit pushy maybe, but not as dirty and scrappy as cheeto or just plain brutish as acci or stalin. they don't fight very much they just take up space and don't budge. but they're almost always the first to get there.

next we have the uruk-hai trio:

ugluk,

mauhur,

and lugdush. the latter's the only one of these i still see nowadays, and theyre living a pretty comfortable existence with the present cast at the flocking spots. getting well-fed, staying healthy, not really stepping on any toes - which is more or less how i remember ugluk and mauhur too. bit of a far cry from their namesakes, but it is what it is

and here's kuru (in the foreground)! they're a bit of a feisty one, in the first few weeks i'd known them they kinda blended in with haku & the uruks as just a mellow, well-behaved little pigeon but when i see them now they'll sometimes just stand up, puff out their chest, and chase some poor other pigeon around while hissing loudly for no apparent reason. they'll drag it out pretty long too. it's funny bc i don't actually see them fighting over food much, they usually do this well after the food's run out and everyone's just kinda strutting about in the open. i guess that pecking order isn't going to establish itself.

and now we have the newest set - these are all ones i first met after a fairly long hiatus from pigeon-watching. i haven't known them very long yet, but theyre starting to warm up to me and im hoping i can get to know them better soon :}

they are:

halszka,

shri (centred, brown plumage)

oksoko,

shuvuuia (foreground), & barsbold (middle)

something i find really special about these ones is how their feather patterns & colours have this sort of "wild" naturalistic look to them, like what you'd expect to see living in the forests or on the plains. not quite as striking as prima, ugluk, or haku but very nice to look at nonetheless.

anyway! i may post more about these pigeons in the future and maybe more if i decided i can recognise any others! this can be just a neat introduction to all the lil dinosaur friends ive known in the time ive been around here i like them all very much and i hope anyone reading this will like them too