#almost dies at least >_< i have to skip that part every time or i just get sad

[ectoplasmer]

rainy keep it together it’s literally just two characters why does it matter if they’re both on screen at the same time you are completely normal over thi *dies*

[dandylovesturtles]

just a little A Team hurt/comfort

------

Raph knocked over some moving boxes during their last shouting match - he spares them a guilty glance as he walks past. Someone has tried to clean up the mess (Mikey, most likely), but he can still tell that they were recently upended and their contents left scattered on the ground.

He knows this is why they told him to go get Leo for breakfast. They want this to be a peace offering. Raph would like for it to be a peace offering, too, but...

Well, it's not like he likes fighting with Leo. Things are just... complicated.

He makes it to Leo's train car, and takes a deep breath before pulling the curtain back. He can do this. One civil interaction.

Leo's already awake, scrolling through his phone. That's in his favor - Leo's always grumpy if you wake him up. At least this way, Raph doesn't have to.

"Hey Leo," he says, and his brother flicks his eyes up from the phone screen. "Breakfast in five. Mikey made waffles."

"Oh, sweet," says Leo. He grins, but even Raph can tell it's forced. "I'll be there in a sec - just checkin' the socials."

And for a moment, Raph almost says something; says that he's sorry, and he takes back everything he said, and Leo should just forget about it, not worry about it, he doesn't want to fight anymore and this is stupid-

And then he thinks about Karai, and the Shredder, and their dad, and the far too close call they had to losing each other, New York, the whole world-

And he thinks about Leo skipping training to go skateboarding, Leo showing up late to patrol with a quip and laugh, Leo charging into fights without so much as a word to the rest of them, Leo who can't take anything seriously-

And it dies in his mouth. He says instead, "Yeah, sure. Just get there before it gets cold."

He turns to leave, but before he can, Leo calls out, "Hey, Raph?"

Raph only half turns, looking over his shoulder at Leo. Wondering if, maybe, Leo is going to try to say something instead. Wondering if he finally gets it, or if they're going to start fighting before breakfast.

Maybe Leo is running the same calculations. Raph is sure he is, actually, because Leo's brain twists over words the way Donnie's twists over physics.

So he must come to the same conclusion, because he doesn't say anything about the fight, or training, or his responsibilities, or any of it. What he says is, "Love you, big bro."

And Raph's heart drops into his stomach.

-----

Leo's always been looser with those words than any of the rest of them. Been that way since they were little, and Splinter kept them in the same part of the sewer, sleeping on pallet beds with whatever pillows and sheets he managed to find in the dump.

"Goodnight, Daddy. I love you," said Leo. "Goodnight Raphie, I love you. Goodnight, Donnie..."

The ritual was long - Leo always used three times as many words as other people. Sometimes Splinter would say, "Yes, yes, Blue, now let your brothers sleep." Sometimes Raph would say, "Hurry it up, Leo." Sometimes Donnie would hide his head under his pillow, or smack that same pillow over Leo's face.

Nowadays, Raph misses that: the sincerely sweet way Leo wanted them all to know he loved them.

As he grew older, Leo began using those words more flippantly. "I love you, but" became one of his stock phrases, a way to soften the blow of criticism. "Come on, you know I love you," said to ward off any retaliation after a prank or insult. "Love ya, bye!" rushed out at the end of one of their rare phone calls, a signal he didn't want to talk anymore.

But every now and then, Raph still got the sincere version. When he brought Leo tea the morning after a bad bout of insomnia. When Leo fussed over an injury, gently winding bandages around his arm or leg. When Leo was sleepy after a long Lou Jitsu marathon, and he reverted to the old ritual as Raph tucked him into bed: "Goodnight, I love you."

The "love you" Leo says to him now, in his room, before breakfast, with the mess of their last big fight barely cleaned up, is none of those.

The "love you" Leo says now is a question.

He doesn't pronounce it like a question. There's no upward lilt to his voice. He doesn't end it by asking if Raph knows. But Raph can still hear it, buried deep in Leo's tone: he's not sure. About loving Raph? About being loved? About what there still is between them?

Raph loves Leo. He loves him so much it aches. It's why he knocked the box over. It's why he wants to knock another ten boxes over. It's why he just needs Leo to understand, to hear him, to see what he sees when he closes his eyes and sees Karai, and the Shredder, and their family almost-

But here they are. With Leo saying "love you" like it's a question and Raph doesn't know the right answer.

"Yeah," he says. "Breakfast in five," he says.

He doesn't know the right answer but he does know that wasn't it.

He leaves Leo in his room, and goes back to his own. Puts his face in his hands. He sees Karai.

He knocks another box over.

-----

Leo's hand is a tiny thing in his. It's also, maybe, the only part of his body that isn't broken. Not like his legs, his arms, his shell, his jaw, his neck-

Raph can't look at his neck. The bruise there makes him want to throw up.

Leo's been out of critical condition for almost two full days. It hasn't made any of them less on edge, and they still spend most of their time crowded in the med bay, watching Leo's chest like it will stop rising the moment they turn their backs.

But Leo's heart doesn't stop, and he breathes in and out, and Raph holds his hand and strokes the back of it with his thumb.

He'd wanted Leo to understand.

He hadn't wanted this to be how Leo learned.

When he closes his eyes now he sees Leo right next to Karai, and he has to touch Leo again, to make sure he's still really there.

Movement from the bed, and a soft noise. Raph's gaze trails up from Leo's hand to his eyes, open but heavy lidded, clouded with a haze of exhaustion and medicine.

"Hey, Leo," he says, trying to keep his tone upbeat despite it all. "You're home; you're safe."

"Mm," hums Leo, still sleepy. He twists the hand that Raph's holding, adjusting his grip so it's wrapped around Raph's thumb. He strokes at Raph the way Raph had just been doing for him, and Raph feels tears sting his eyes.

"Love you, Raphie," says Leo, and this time, there's not a hint of uncertainty.

Raph's heart lurches again. Whatever answer Leo had been looking for last time, he must have found it.

But.

Raph doesn't plan to leave anything to chance. Not anymore.

"Love you too, Leo." He leans in, press his forehead to the top of Leo's head. "I love you, too."

Leo makes a pleased noise, low in his throat. He's already sinking back into sleep, his grip on Raph's hand growing loose. His breaths are still steady and even, heart beating strong, the look on his face peaceful.

"Goodnight, Leo," says Raph. "I love you."

[meshlasolus]

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 1

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: The Hunger Games reaping. Canon typical angst. Reader has a speech impediment.

Chapter Summary: Lukas Artanhour is your best friend since childhood who makes the worst decision of his life when he volunteers as tribute for the 71st annual hunger games... Luckily, he won't be going alone, and you didn't even have to volunteer.

Word Count: 2.8k

Don't be detered by the OC in this chapter, he is just someone I made up to make the hunger games more emotional of an event 🙃

The representative from the Capitol being the same every year was almost a comforting sort of repetition through the years, but compared to the annual tradition it surrounded, you were hardly relaxed at seeing him make his dazzling appearance. A new outfit every year, made from the finest fabrics and silks that eight had to offer… And you wore the same green top and skirt. At least this year there were seashells. 

“Good afternoon, District Four!” His shout of happiness was hardly felt by any who stood here in this gathering. “There’s nothing like being here, amongst the beautiful waters and sandy beaches.”

It’s cold and windy down by the docks, with the sand getting kicked up from time to time. District Four is one of the most beautiful places in all of Panem, and it’s known, as all districts are, for its main production to the Capitol. Fish. 

The people here are wealthier than most in the districts, a close third in rank to both one and two, who reign supremely amongst the favorites. The Hunger Games have obviously played a serious part in all of that. Four being a career district meant that the Capitol goers were far more likely to invest. Careers are the favorites, no matter which district they come from. 

The reaping is today, and you don’t want to think about it. It is why you arrive at your work station an hour before you need to be there. You’ve spent years of your life down here by the docks, whether it was waiting for your father’s boat to return, or your friend to bring you the boxes that needed to be loaded onto Capitol trucks. You’re a mover, it’s your job. It doesn’t pay well, because the real money is in fishing, but you wouldn’t dare go out on a boat. 

“You’re early,” Lukas nearly spooks you, smiling after watching you jump from surprise. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s r-reaping day. I couldn’t s-sleep.”

He was used to the skip and stutter of your words, un-phasing him as you spoke each one. 

“I get it. My mom keeps hounding me about it. Every year I grow taller, stronger, she tells me I could win,” he sat down next to you in the sand, handing you a shell he found on his way here. “Another for the collection.”

“Thanks,” you took it gratefully, placing it in your pocket for safekeeping until later. You journeyed back to his previous words, what he meant by them. “Does your mother w-wish you’d gone through the career program?”

He shrugged, looking out into the sea, his mind just as full of indecent thoughts as yours. 

“I’m not sure what she wants. Ever since dad died she’s just been… different.”

“My parents have s-said, if it ever gets t-too bad, you c-can always stay with us.”

He nods, his appreciation shown through a single sideways glance. He knows he has places to go, he knows that there are others that are willing to treat him as a son should be treated, but he wants his own mother to do it. He longs for the woman she once was, and hopes if he can make her proud enough, maybe she will be that way again. 

“I’ll think about it,” he said, but he’d been saying that for the past year. 

So far, you’d learned she’d been hitting him, been yelling and screaming about how he would never measure up to his father. You never saw these interactions of course, because if you had you may have broken down for him, your friend of eleven years. In school, he was the only one who would talk to you, the only person who ever gave a damn about the girl with the stutter. He defended you when they made fun of you left and right, for nearly everything they thought was wrong with you.

“You s-shouldn’t listen to her,” you shook your head, the waves crashing on the shoreline several yards down. It was the only thing that would remain peaceful about today, when later on two children would be hauled off and expected to fight or die. “She isn’t in her r-right mind anymore.”

“I know that.” 

He agrees, he knows. He is well aware that her mind slipped maybe even before her husband died. She had been driving him to the long hours that he’d worked, and eventually made him work out on a ship during a storm. The boat sinking was just fan to the flame of her deteriorating mental state. 

He picked up a rock from the sand a few feet over, standing up and tossing it to skip over the water before it began to wash on the shore. He gave you a hand to your feet, pulling you up until you were steady. 

“Boat leaves in a few minutes, I’ll see you when we get back,” he said, turning on his heel in the sand. You nodded at him before he walked off, into the working hours of the day. You shouldn’t even be here for another hour. You know that they’ll be gone for two or more and you don’t need that long to prep the boxes. But you can’t sleep. 

-

Lukas returned to the docks with a much better mindset. The water always made him feel serene. He came to land, lugging the giant nets tied together to keep the fish from falling out. Today’s catch was good as any other, and the songs the boys sang on board nearly made him forget everything else. 

“Salmon are catching like crazy this time of year,” he muttered, meeting you halfway to help you untie the knots and start packing the boxes. “Thinking I might sneak one home if there’s extra. You probably can, too.”

“I’ll t-try. My pa could use s-something more to eat.”

He weeded through all the skimpy ones, pulling the biggest catches out first and laying them sideways in the boxes, filling the middles with ice before adding another layer. It was the same thing everyday, but he never tired of it. He was content to live the life of a district four fisherman, and he was good at it. 

“How’s his arm doing?” He asked, since you’d brought up your father. 

He’d broken it in a rigging accident about two months ago, and the slow healing process was not doing your family any favors. You’d been hungry several times, so obviously extreme measures had to be taken. You won’t think about that right now, though.

“Not any better, n-not any worse.” The fish box was nearly packed, but you paused to think for a moment. “Maybe I s-should try and catch. It pays a lot m-more, and we could use the money.”

He grabbed you by the shoulder and turned you to face him. 

“You’d be scared to death. If your family needs some money, I can help out. It’s the least I can do when they offer me free lodging,” he half joked, completely serious in all aspects about the help with financial assistance. 

“Lodging that y-you’ve never taken.”

“Listen, I’m happy to help if you need me to. Especially with your brother, now,” he mentioned, making you think about the sweet little sleeping face you’d passed by on the way out of your home. Your baby brother, born not a year ago. You hated the idea of him growing up hungry, or having to start work early in his life like you did. 

“Well, t-thank you. I’ll think about it.”

He shook his head, seeing as how you quoted him from all the times your family offered him help before. 

He waved you off when you finished stacking the prepared boxes onto your slab dolly, tilting it back and beginning to push it towards the truck that pulled in not too long ago. It was a steep climb, up the ramp from the docks and onto the street, but it made you quite strong over the years. That and all the heavy lifting, becoming easier with every twenty by thirty of fish. 

Lukas would be taking off early today, as would most of the other boys of age. You would be heading home after loading this shipment as it were. You had to shower, had to clean up your hair and skin and make yourself presentable for the reaping. 

You opened the back of the truck, tossing the boxes up one at a time, before climbing into it and stacking them neatly in one of the four corners. You always managed to obtain a single splinter from every shipment loaded, but luckily today’s wasn't too bad, you could probably dig it out with a small pin. 

Later in the day, your mother gave you a solemn smile as you walked out the door, having just been readied and dressed in your best clothes. Even in a wealthier district, they still had mended holes in the bottom of your skirt. That’s the sad thing about every district. Even amongst the wealthier ones, there’s still poverty that simply cannot be helped. The Capitol's greed and thirst for luxury, needing every little thing that life has to offer at their beck and call. You can’t even imagine what it’s like in places like eight or twelve. Places where food is not the primary cultivation of the people. 

It was light green, your outfit. It had white seashells on the waist of the top, and a few along the edge of the skirt as well. They hadn’t always been there, but you insisted they should be. You didn’t really have much else of a use for all the shells you stole from the sands of the shoreline. You hated wearing the same outfit to this single event every year. You hardly wore it any other time, which made a distaste for it grow every time it came out of your closet. 

The way your mother did your hair was simple. A single french braid down the back of your head, tied off with a light green ribbon to match everything else. She watched how it fell a bit looser with every step you took, making your way across the streets and into the city’s center. It’s your last year, and having avoided every year before, you know you should feel a semblance of relief, but you don’t. 

Your mother waits for the peacekeeper behind a stand to check your name off a list before she parts with you, hugging you tightly one last time and allowing you to kiss the head of the baby on her hip. He’s primarily the reason you remain so nervous. Even if your name doesn’t get called, his could be, someday.

You line up in an open space, next to the last girl that checked in. She wasn’t in your row last year, you would have remembered her. She was pretty, with blue eyes and dark raven hair. Her skin was tanned like most in four, but had a certain glow about it. She’s too pretty to be reaped, you thought. It didn’t make a difference, though. As you stared head on to the bowl on the stage, centered in front of the girl’s side, you got tense. Your name is in there six times this year. That’s three more than last year, and five more than the year before. 

Someone could still volunteer. But the career program had not made mention of producing a female tribute this year. It all depended on the luck of today’s draw. For all you knew, your name would be surpassed by someone else. There were other poverty stricken areas in four besides yours, and it made sense that somebody else could have been hungry enough to outgo you. 

You looked around to the boy's side. Lukas was there, and further up in the rows. He must have gotten here quickly after leaving the docks. His face was sullen, and something had changed, but you were unsure of what it was. When he looked around, you almost thought he’d been looking for somebody, but his expression told a far different story. 

The last few children in the line were filing in, and the musical fanfare blasted through the speakers by the stage. You were grateful not to be so close to those this year. 

The representative from the Capitol being the same every year was almost a comforting sort of repetition through the years, but compared to the annual tradition it surrounded, you were hardly relaxed at seeing him make his dazzling appearance. A new outfit every year, made from the finest fabrics and silks that eight had to offer… And you wore the same green top and skirt. At least this year there were seashells. 

“Good afternoon, District Four!” His shout of happiness was hardly felt by any who stood here in this gathering. “There’s nothing like being here, amongst the beautiful waters and sandy beaches.”

His rabble was boring, and nearly the same as it was last time. The anticipation was killing just about every girl and boy in this crowd, knowing there were no careers at the ready this year. It was always easier to rest at night while knowing if your name was called, another courageous youngster would step in to take your place. 

“I’m so excited to be back and reaping this year’s tributes for the 71st annual Hunger Games!” 

There was a surge of excitement coming from the sidelines, and it was only now that you looked past the blockades to see that there were actual Capitol civilians standing there this year. How nice, some onlookers for when an innocent child gets sent away to their death. Absolutely wonderful. You looked on past them, towards the victors standing close by. They seemed anxious as well, the old woman holding one fist to her mouth while the other clutched her chest. She rocked back and forth on her heels, and had to take a step every few seconds to keep from becoming too restless. The young man was stiff, his arms behind his back and every muscle in his body tense as a board. His eyeline never left the bowls on the stage. They went through this once, too.

When you refocused on the man at the microphone, your heart beat rapidly. He was approaching the boy’s side of the stage. 

After a small flourish of his hand, the Capitol rep stuck his hand into the glass, two papers in his hand before he dropped one. The dropped paper’s namesake got immensely lucky this year. 

“Harley Miggsen,” he read the paper, but before the peacekeepers had a shot at cornering the poor fourteen year old kid, with his eyes wide in horror, another voice spoke up. 

“I volunteer.” 

Your head snapped to Lukas, his hand raised high in the air. Murmurs started almost immediately about how everyone thought there weren’t any careers prepared. They spoke softly and wondered if there would be a career for the girls, too. Lukas isn’t a career, why would he do this?

“I… guess we have a volunteer,” the man at the mic clapped his hand, watching the young man getting ushered up the stairs to stand beside him on the stage. “What’s your name, son?” 

“Lukas Artanhour, sir.”

“Lukas Artanhour, everyone!” He raised his hand as to signal applause from the capitol guests, and they cheered, happy to see that there was now a potential victor as opposed to that poor boy from before. “Now for the ladies.”

You spared a glance at the victors once more, and they looked even more on edge for this pick than the last. Female victors were obviously more rare in every district, so getting a decent tribute that wouldn’t die right away was probably preferable. You couldn’t imagine all the people they’ve tried and failed to save over the years. The young man won only six years ago, but with no other victors since, that means he’s gone through twelve tributes. All dead, all gone. 

Your mind had been momentarily distracted, or at least it had been until the next name came over the loudspeakers. 

“Mercedes Blythe.” 

It almost didn’t register. 

It almost went in one ear and out the other.

It almost was paid no mind or attention…

But that is your name, and you’ve heard it said a million times since you were a baby. Not once did it ever sound like that, though. 

You stood still until you realized there were peacekeepers on their way to grab you. 

It was slow, the way you took steady steps from your row towards the stage. You couldn’t be rushed even if they tried to make you. You could only look at the ground. You didn’t want to chance looking up and seeing your mother past the blockades. God only knows what she’s thinking and feeling right now. After everything bad happens to a family, the mother of that family should not have to wonder whether her child will live or be killed in an arena. 

You finally looked up when you got to the stairs, meeting Lukas’ eyes first, and seeing they were sad and full of pity. You stood beside the Capitol rep on the other side, allowing him to raise your hands together while the tears finally welled up in your eyes. The delay in your mind was the only one to blame for that. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, district four’s tributes!”

-

Tags (open):

[instarsandcrime]

Tuned Out

Oh gosh it's been uh. Almost a month since I've written something??? Well, I hope you enjoy this one! I loved the idea of a sick L/uc/ifer spiraling, and being broken out of it by A/la/stor's radio show because I'm weak to the idea-- though it can be interpreted as both platonic and Ra//di//o//A//pple.

And here's a quick heads-up: Though this is still the usual fluffy fic, the spiral paragraph itself is a bit rough. So I'm going to put a trigger warning below and in the summary when I add this fic to the list. If intrusive thoughts and vague thoughts of self-harm are too much, please skip the italicized second paragraph. You can still read the fic without needing to include this part, so don't feel ANY pressure to do so if you aren't/will never be ready. Please, pleeeassseee take care of yourselves!

Otherwise, enjoy!

TW: Intrusive thoughts, vague thoughts of self-harm

---

Burning. His skin felt like it was burning him alive. That was the only sensation Lucifer could feel. His tired eyes stared up at the canopy of his bed, face glowing softly with fever. Its flush spread gold across the embedded pearls above, making them sparkle like stars. He sighed, crackling sparks floating from his lips as thoughts poked and prodded at his overheated mind.

Fuck. He really was pathetic, wasn’t he? Can’t move, can’t get up, can’t get a glass of water, eat dinner, call Charlie– call. Charlie? Oh, poor Charlie. She must be so disappointed in him. He chuckled weakly, What would she even say to him that she hasn’t already thought? He could imagine it. He really could. ‘Seriously, Lucifer?! I literally meant nothing to you for years and now suddenly you waltz into my life? And instead of actually spending time with me, you’re calling from a room that could’ve gone to someone who truly needed it, ordering me to wait on you hand and foot like I’m your butler? Like our entire relationship meant nothing? You threw me away, and now you’re going to do it again?! You know what? You deserve this! You deserve to rot in your bed! Get as starving and sick as you want! At least now the inside will match the outside! You’re terrible! I hate you! No. No, you know what? I wish you got your second shot at Heaven. I wish you had at least a week of laughter, fun, and fucking fireworks so they could tear off your wings andyoucanFallalloveragai–’

A burst of static pierced the air, shattering the constricting spiral just before it could break him again– and replaced it with a new form of dread.

“Why hello there all you wayward sinners! Welcome once again to tonight’s show with your host: The Radio Demon!”

“Uuugh!” Lucifer groaned dramatically, snatching one of his many pillows to press over his head. 

Right. The stupid fucking radio. From under the shadows, the sickly demon couldn't help but glare daggers at the piece of junk resting on his nightstand. Alastor had requested those old, outdated mortal inventions for every hotel room– specifically from the 1920’s era because apparently he preferred style and substance. Whatever that meant. 

Regardless. He insisted that it was needed for announcements, communication, and entertainment. In other words– somewhere, somehow, Alastor was currently studying him and him alone with invisible eyes. Surgically scanning him at the seams for the slightest rip. The slightest tear. As if his prey wasn't the most powerful being here. Dramatic bastard.

“And how are you doing this fine evening, Your Majesty?” The radio sung.

“Go away.” The lump of fluff grumbled.

"Of course not! It is my duty as your hotelier to take note of every little detail of my building, no matter how tiny and insignificant. And I am ever-so-glad I have! It is quite the rare sight to watch our King of Hell lose face to a simple case of the sniffles. Truly a headline for the ages!"

An angry red blush painted over the king’s golden cheeks, immediately pushing himself upright. Towering wings puffed, pillows and blankets tossed about the bed as he went. "Now see here! Sinners get sick. Overlords get sick. Hell, Charlie and Lilith can get sick! Me? I’m just rehhh…Snff! Ugh, resti'g…"

"Resting. Of course. I suppose I will believe you for convenience’s sake--"

"Hhheh…! Het'shiew!"

"--oh! Bless you."

"Het'shhhiew!"

"Bless y--"

"Hep'shhhh! 'Etshhh! 'Tshhh! 'Tshhh-'tshh-'tch! ...HhhhehhHH...! HEH'TSSHHHIEW!"

"My goodness, bless! You sound absolutely miserable. Shall I fetch you a glass of water? Or another blanket, perhaps?"

"Nhhh– no." Lucifer protested between hitching breaths, conjuring a handkerchief with the flick of the wrist, "N-no thahhh...hhhah! Hhhh...”

He finally lowered the cloth when the tickle finally fizzled out, heaving a sigh of relief. “Ndo thadk you. Snff!" He took a deep breath before letting loose a mucky blow into the fabric, "It's fine. I'm fine."

A pause. "Ah."

"What? What is it now?"

"Oh nothing, nothing! I’ll let you get back to your rest. But before I go, could I mention one more thing?”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s just. Well, I had my first impressions, but I assumed that the King of Hell wouldn't be so cowardly."

"Cowardly?!" Lucifer repeated incredulously, spitting a plume of smoke.

"I see your hearing is as sharp as your wit."

"I'll show you cowardly you…y-you…hhh-!" The demon’s nose twitched desperately, and he cursed between hitching gasps as it tried again and again to just get. The damned itch. Out.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite catch that."

"You…you self-important…hehhh…p-pompous…!" 

"How flattering of you to notice my worth! And would you believe it? You're absolutely right! I am the fundraiser for this humble project, after all. The guide for these poor, misguided souls. Ones such as yourself."

"Oh, please! We both know you’re...you're no behhh...better than…hhhH–!" Lucifer's handkerchief raised to his face.

"Trying to use your infamous silver tongue through a sneeze? My word! Charlie had told me you were stubborn. But this?"

"Eshhh! Et'SCHHH! HEH'ETSCHH'HHHIEW!" He quickly twisted his head away to let loose a breath of flame, barely singeing the well-abused cloth.

"Poor, poor Lucifer Morningstar.” Alastor teased, his voice as soft and careful as a snake in the grass. The smattering of footsteps echoed across the floorboards, circling the bed. “Always choosing your own heavenly guilt over the needs of everyone else."

"HEH'ESCHH'HHHIU! Hehh! Hhh…hghh…"

"Which is a shame, considering the ill resident who requires attention. Trapped in their own feverish mind. Alone while their partner is away. Unable to move or think or even ask for help properly. But I’m sure you wouldn’t know how it feels for them, considering how indestructible you are."

"...There is?" Lucifer finally croaked, cringing to himself at another gurgling nose blow.

"Of course! While you were hiding in your room with your wings tucked between your legs, I'm afraid you've missed someone very important. Someone close to you."

Lucifer froze. He didn't mean.

"Mmm. Let's see." As the radio host thought stubby knobs spun on their own, playing flickers of songs diluted by time. "Rosy cheeks. Blonde hair. Red eyes that sparkle so damn brightly one could go blind."

Oh no.

"Puffy bow tie. Black fingernails."

Did. Did he get his little girl sick? Please, please don't let that be the case.

"The most spell-binding singing voice."

He thought back to breakfast. How Charlie had eaten less than normal. How she sniffled once or twice at the table. Wait, did her face look pale? Maybe the light didn’t catch it?

A knot formed in the pit of his stomach.

"Wh-where is she-- they, um! That. Resident right now?"

"Oh, performing the usual suffering patient routine. Lying in bed. Being miserable. Quite adament about sleeping the bug off. Reminds me of the ol’ picture books that star wealthy socialites and their sickly Victorian children. The ones who die due to their parents' neglect and mistreatment."

"I could help her." The fallen angel mumbled anxiously as he pushed himself upright. "I could help her right– …now..." 

The second he dared to stand he nearly fainted, stumbling dizzily to grab the bedpost for support. From beneath a small string of black tentacles sprouted from the ground, nudging him back into place and under the covers as The Radio Demon tutted disapprovingly. 

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If you can't partake in the complex act of resting, then what good are you to our dear, sweet Charlie?"

"Shut. Up." Lucifer hissed, "I am a grown adult--"

"--debatable--"

"--and I choose what to do with my free time! And it's my jo-- koff koff! j-job to help my daughter when she needs it!" A shaky finger waved at all six radios. Or were there seven?

"To be quite honest Sire, I would prefer to do my tasks without your meddling. Actually, I would prefer not to perceive your existence at all, thank you very much. Unless..."

"Unless?"

"Unless you'd rather call her yourself. But I know you won't." A mocking tone laced with static, “You c̴̨̮͊o̶̗̤̿ẇ̷̙á̴̼̖ȑ̶͉̕d̶̙͚͗̕.”

“I– wh–” Lucifer laughed in sheer disbelief, snatching up his phone. “Y-you’re– you’re joking, right? I’m not some– some godforsaken hermit!"

"Then by all means, prove it."

"I am!"

“I’m waiting."

"Oh, I’ll do it! I’ll do such a good call. It’ll be the– snff! goodest caller you’ve ever seen.” The King of Hell pouted like a child as he moved his claws.

“Ugh. Lord knows how he’ll act if he gets worse.” The radio mumbled quietly.

“Whassat?”

“My apologies, Your Majesty! I forgot that your company as of late are less of the civilized and more the rubber duck variety.”

"Of all the– if you weren't stuck to Charlie like a parasite I would take the sharpest end of my tail and shove it up your--"

Click!

"Dad?" A voice croaked.

"Charlie!" Lucifer's venom turned saccharine sweet, flipping on a dime. "Hey! Hi! H-how are ya, sweetie?"

"Mmrgh...what time is it?"

"It's. Um. Evening…time? Look, that doesn't matter right now. Are you feeling alright, kiddo?"

"Am I feeling alright?" His patient echoed sleepily.

"Yeah! I uh. IIIII just wanted to check in. See if you were okay." 

"Oh. Um, I'm okay." A bit of rustling and a pause. "Are you okay?"

"Snff! Me?"

"Yes, you! You looked so tired at breakfast this morning, a-and you didn’t eat anything which never happens! And you were kinda glowing? It kinda seemed bad but I didn’t want to ask because maybe it was a personal thing and– wait, your voice is…are you crying?!" Rustling turned into the shuffle of pacing slippers.

"What? No! Nonononono! I just--" Lucifer froze, feeling another itch start to build, handkerchief nowhere to be found under the sea of fabric. "Jhhh-just excuse mbe for– snff! For a seggond. Keebp t-talki’g…!"

He quickly pressed his hand against the speaker, stifling into his shoulder until the scratchy wool felt damp. "Hh'ntt! Hh’ngk! Hhh’TCH! ‘TCH! Hhhhh...HT'CHNXT'hiew! Guhh..."

"Sure. A-anyway, you called me pretty early in the morning and after all that and this. Soooo…is there anything I can do to help?"

Desperate claws scrambled to craft a new handkerchief and wipe his streaming face. "N-no! No, no-- snff! absolutely not! Worry about yourself Char-Char, I'm fi--....f-fihh...!"

Hang up, pinch your nose shut, do anything but--

"HET'SHHH'HIEW!" Lucifer doubled over.

–sneeze.

"Oh geez, that sounded terrible!” Charlie gasped, “Is that why you've been in your room all day? Are you sick?"

A sudden, very obvious realization hit him. Silently the fallen king sunk into his mattress, wishing he could be swallowed by his comforter. His cheeks burned. The familiar description. The taunting. 

“Can I. Call you back, Stardust?” 

“What? Whoa, whoa, wait, we’re not finished here–” With a final monotone beep, the call ended.

"You.” Lucifer clenched his fangs.

“Yes?” Alastor hummed non-chalantly. “YOU.”

“Gracious! No need to shout. Even The Devil Himself should know that a sickly patient musn’t raise his voice, lest it get worse than it already is!”

“Watch your back, bellhop. Next time I see you, no ring of Hell will compare to what I-- koff! I’ll–" The threat died with a wheeze, breaking into another ill-timed fit.

"And that's all for tonight, folks!" The radio suddenly hopped back to life, "Tomorrow's show may be a little dicey schedule wise, as our guest star is feeling quite unwell. Will he finally exit his literal and proverbial cave of sorrows for once in his miserable life? Or, much like his saintly past, will pride once again be his downfall--"

"Dad! Are you– eep!"

Charlie's entrance was suddenly interrupted when a black fist rained down on the damned noise box, breaking in a fit of bouncing springs and wooden splinters. The room stilled until a meek, nervous chuckle finally broke the spell.

"Charlie, dear?"

"Y…yeah?"

"Um. Could. Could I trouble you for a glass of water?"

[fallingforunrealisticromance]

The men you meet - Sherlock x reader

A/N: I'm thinking of making this a series or at least a couple parts but i'm not sure so i figured i'd post this and see what people think. Sorry if theres any mistakes, its literally 6;30am, ive been writing all night. I'm tired.

Warnings; swearing, mentions of a knife??

Word count: 5.4k

Masterlist

****= time skip

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

Living in 221b there was never a dull moment. Whether it was sherlock shooting the walls at stupid o clock in the morning because he was, quote-on-quote “BORED”, or john ranting about how sherlock needed to stop using the fridge as a place to store body parts. Every so often you would walk in to find a rather bloody, beaten body on the floor which more often than not was paired with a dishevelled looking Sherlock. You supposed you should be afraid of him, considering the things he was capable of, but you weren’t. In fact you were utterly enamoured by him. Not that you would ever admit that out loud. But it’s true, everything about the raven-haired detective enticed you. His voice, his dry wit, his intelligence – the whole lot. That didn’t stop him getting on every one of your last nerves. Maybe that’s how you ended up in this position.

****

“Sherlock, your phone keeps going off for god’s sake would you answer it?” You groaned, your head falling back against the sofa as the detective’s text notification went off for tenth time that hour.

“I’m busy” He replied plainly, his eyes fixated on the microscope in front of him.

“One of these days I am going to throw that phone down the toilet.” You grumbled standing up to read his messages. “It’s from Greg, says he has a homicide he wants you to check out.”

“Greg?” The detective stopped what he was doing for a moment, his brow furrowed.

“Lestrade you idiot.” You rolled your eyes.

“Oh. Not important then.” Sherlock resumed his work.

“Did you not hear me? He has a homicide he wants you to check out. That’s right up your street.” You said walking over to him.

“Clearly not important enough otherwise he wouldn’t have texted me” Sherlock replied flatly, not looking at you as you rested against the desk next to him.

“Explain.”

“If it was that major, Lestrade would’ve called or barged through the door demanding for my help. You know what he’s like for theatrics. Seeing as he’s done neither of those things, it’s hardly worth my time.” Sherlock ranted with a wave of his hand.

You scoffed. “He’s one for theatrics? Jesus have you looked in the mirror recently.” Your tone caught sherlocks attention.

“What’s wrong with you today?” He asked, looking away from his work.

You shuffled slightly. “Nothing. It’s just- I don’t know.” You sighed looking down at your feet.

You did know. Your feelings for sherlock were causing more issues for you as the days went on. You were beginning to care about him, too much. Everything he did was causing you to fall more in love with him. And it hurt. Not only because you knew he wouldn’t love you back, but because he didn’t care about himself. Every day he would put his life on the line, throwing himself right into the middle of a warzone whether it be with terrorists or serial killers or whatever else, he had no regard for his own life. Whether he lived or died, it didn’t matter to him as long as he was right. But it mattered to you. Loving him resulted in a constant life of worry. The thought of him dying, it hurt your heart more than you cared to admit. As much as the detective meant to you, life before you were in love with him was a lot simpler.

“You’re lying.” Sherlock replied, snapping you from your train of thought.

“Oh well”

“It’s obvious you’re lying. The way you’re standing gives it away almost immediately. By the way you’re fidgeting with your hands I’m guessing it’s to do with someone you care about, someone you love. A friend, family member, a significant other potentially-“

“Sherlock would you just shut up?” You snapped at him.

He looked slightly shocked by your tone. Not at the fact you’d shouted, no he’d heard that plenty of times, but it was never directed at him.

“You know sometimes people like to keep things to themselves. If I wanted you to know I would’ve told you. What the hell gives you the right to deduce me and find something out I never wanted you to know. I thought as my friend you’d have a little bit more respect for my privacy.” You ranted as you grabbed your coat.

“What? y/n where are you going?” Sherlock stood up, confused by your reaction.

“Out. I need some air. Go help Lestrade.” You replied, before slamming the door.

******

You ran your fingers through your hair as you took a seat in the far corner of your favourite coffee shop, thoughts of sherlock whirling round your head. You needed to move past this silly little crush you had. It was already starting to cause tension between the pair of you and you knew if it continued either your friendship would fall apart all together, or sherlock would find out and reject you. Either way ended in you losing him. You needed a distraction, someone to take him off of your mind. But who? John was like your brother so that was off the table, Mycroft rather repulsed you instead of attract you. The thought of asking Greg out had crossed your mind, sure he was attractive enough, but you were too close as friends. Plus you knew your heart wouldn’t be in it. No you needed someone new, someone to sweep you up in a whole new world of emotion. It didn’t necessarily have to be true love, just something to occupy your mind. Slowly you started to realise how hopeless you truly were. You had no time to meet anyone new and all the men in your life weren’t enough. You sighed, looking down at your coffee.

“Excuse me? Is this seat taken?” A smooth Irish voice filled your ears.

You looked up to see a rather attractive man with slicked back black hair and a grey suit jacket on standing in front of you. You felt your stomach flutter as he smiled at you expectantly. His eyes were beautiful. He cleared his throat, still waiting for an answer. You shook your head slightly, chuckling to yourself.

“Um sorry, no its not.” You replied.

“Mind if I sit? It's pretty busy in here and they told me it would be about a half an hour wait.” He said, chuckling.

“By all means” You smiled gesturing to the seat in front of you.

He thanked you and sat down. The two of you sat in silence for a moment. He was looking towards the counter which allowed you to take in his features a little better. His jaw line was magnificently chiselled, line with a short layer of stubble. His arms looked well defined, even under the jacket. He gave off a familiar vibe even though you were certain you had never seen this man before in your life. But something about him felt, comfortable, almost.

“I’ve just realised.” His voice came, breaking you from your thoughts. “Here I am intruding on you and your coffee, and I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m James.” He said holding his hand out to you.

“Hi James, I’m y/n. And you’re not intruding at all, I’ve just been sitting here wallowing in my thoughts.” You joked, internally cringing at yourself.

 However, James didn’t seem weirded out by your statement.

“Something bothering you?” He asked, looking genuinely interested.

You questioned whether or not to say anything, you had just met. In the end you figured – what’s the worst that can happen.

“I think I’m in love with my best friend. And it sucks.” You confessed with a weak smile.

James nodded, smiling slightly. “Okay. Do they not feel the same?” He asked.

“Well I haven’t told him, but no. Relationships, feelings that whole lot – not really his thing. But that’s not even the worst part.” You sighed.

James watched you, staying silent allowing you to continue.

“His job, it’s not the safest. But he helps people, which is good, but he has no regard for his life. I guess it’s just an occupational hazard to him, but watching the man I love almost die like every day of my life is fucking draining. And every time I even try to explain it to him he just gets all stroppy about how I shouldn’t care about what happens to him and that it’s his life and I can’t stop him, which I don’t want to do because I know if he stopped working that a lot of people would suffer. That doesn’t stop him infuriating me on a daily basis.” You ranted, running your fingers through your hair.

“That’s why I am here. He was just getting too much for me.” You concluded leaning back in your chair.

“That sounds really intense.” James replied.

“Yeah his job is a bit mental but like I said he helps-“

“-no no I meant you. The fact that you care so deeply about this man is honestly beautiful, but him seemingly not caring about how his actions effect you – that is intense. And in no way fair to you.” He said, looking you in the eyes.

You were slightly shocked; no one you’d talked about this had ever taken the time to see it from your perspective. But here you were sat with some random bloke in a coffee shop, feeling more seen than ever before.

“Oh…yeah I guess.” Was your response.

You mentally face palmed, what sort of response was that?!

“Americano for J M. J M?” Someone shouted over the sea of people.

James’ head whipped round as he stood to grab his drink. Part of you was sad he was leaving so soon, even if you had just met him.

“Well, I best be off. Told my colleague I’d only be gone a few minutes.” He chuckled, a warm smile spreading over him.

“I’m sorry to have kept you. It was nice meeting you James.” You replied, smiling back.

“Don’t be sorry, it was nice to meet you to y/n. See you around.”

And with that he left. A sigh escaped your lips as you rested your chin against the palm of your hand. He could’ve been just the distraction you were hoping for, but you scared him off with an overload of emotions. Whatever, you’d just need to go out to a bar or something. Even something as simple as a one-night stand would be great right about now. Just as you started to pack up your stuff to leave, the same man appeared at the edge of the table once again.

“James? Did you forget something?” You asked looking around the table.

“Um yes. Well no not exactly. I just wanted to- I know you’re into your friend- we just met so- oh god I’m making a right mess out of this.” He chuckled looking down at his hand which was still grasping the cup from earlier.

“Would you like to go to dinner?” He spat out.

You were once again rendered speechless for a moment.

“I know you said you’re in love with your friend so if you don’t want to or think it would be weird because you hardly know me then that’s fine I just think your beautiful and deserve someone who can treat you well. Not that I’m saying that has to be me but-“

“James?” You cut him off from his ramble.

He looked hopefully at you.

“I’d love to go to dinner.” You said smiling at him.

He left out a sigh of relief. “Okay, brilliant. Do you want to take my number and text me? Or I could take yours?”

“Here” You handed him your phone. “You put your number in there and I’ll take this” You said reaching for his phone. “And put mine in. That way we both can contact the other.”

You typed your number in and handed it back. You took your phone from him, laughing at the contact name

“Mr Americano?” You said glancing up at him.

“You can’t tell me it’s not accurate.” He said laughing.

“Well I’ll be looking forward to your text.” You spoke.

“I’ll see you soon y/n.” He said as he waved goodbye walking out the door.

*****

You returned to 221b in a much better mood. James had texted on the walk home and you’d arranged to go for dinner the next day at 7. You told him you’d meet him there although he did try to convince you to let him pick you up, but you didn’t want sherlock to grill him.

“y/n? Is that you?” The detectives voice called out.

You sighed before replying, preparing yourself for the inevitable conversation to come. “Yeah hi sherlock.”

He came round the corner as you slumped onto the sofa.

“Are you okay?” He asked standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Yeah I’m fine. I’m sorry about earlier, I was just tired and in a bad mood. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” You apologized.

“Don’t be. It’s me who should be sorry.”

Your head snapped up at his words. It wasn’t like Sherlock to say sorry.

“I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like that. You’re my friend and I never want to make you uncomfortable. And I did. So you had every right to be angry at me.” He explained, taking a seat in his chair.

You smiled at him softly. “Thank you Sher, that means a lot. But I’m not angry anymore.” You said genuinely.

“You do appear to be in a better mood. Coffee shop must have worked its magic.” He said glancing at the to go cup still in your hand.

“Something like that.” You muttered, feeling your cheeks blush as you looked at the ground.

“You met someone?” Sherlock stated. Well it was more of a question.

You sighed. There was no point denying it, he could clearly read it in you.

“Yeah. I did. We’re going out tomorrow night.” You replied happily.

“Who’s going out tomorrow night?” John asked as he entered, taking a seat in his chair opposite sherlock.

“I am. I met someone at the coffee shop. He sat at my table, and we started talking. He asked me out and I said yes.” You had the biggest grin on your face, but you were excited.

Excited that someone asked you out, and that you actually felt some type of attraction to him. This could be more than just a distraction. You shook your head slightly at the thought. You’d just met him, there was no reason to be dreaming of a future already. Johns’ eyebrows raised at you.

“Wow.” He glanced at sherlock, who hadn’t said anything. “That’s great y/n. Will we meet him?”

You laughed. “No.”

This caught sherlocks attention. “Why not?” The boys said in unison.

You gestured at the two of them. “Have you met the pair of you? I love you both, but I really don’t need you scaring off the one guy who actually wants to take me on a date.” You picked your stuff up and headed to your room. “I’m going to sleep. See you both in the morning.”

“It’s only 8 o clock” John yelled.

“Well I’m exhausted. Goodnight” You called before closing your bedroom door.

*the next evening*

“Why can’t you come over? It would be a lot easier.” You groaned over the video call.

“Because Tom is over, and I don’t want to leave him.” Molly replied smiling.

You smiled for her. Even if her new boyfriend looked almost identical to Sherlock, you were glad she had someone.

“Okay well what do you think?” You tried to show her the whole dress but trying to fit yourself in the frame was rather awkward.

“I don’t know, dresses aren’t normally your thing are they?” She asked.

“Well no, but I haven’t been on a date in a while, so I wanted to make an effort.” You replied, straightening the skirt.

“Where’s he taking you?”

“Just a little Italian place. Never been there before but it’s near the river. I’ve walked past it like a hundred times.”

“I think you should wear the black dress.” Molly suggested. “The one you showed me at Christmas that you never wore?”

You looked at her, unsure. “Really? Do you know think it’s a bit, I don’t know, flashy?”

“Not at all. It’s perfect. Go on, put it on.” Molly beamed at you hopefully.

You thought about it for a second. “Okay fine, give me a second.” You said, earning a little clap from the screen.

You pulled the blue dress off and found the black one. You pulled it out, admiring it for a moment. It truly was a beautiful dress. It was a soft flowy material, the front falling just above the knees while the back trailed a couple inches further down. The top was in a crossed over, v line neck with two flowy straps going round the neck like a halter top. The back was open which just added to the beauty. It was scattered with sparkles that caught in the light in the most elegant way. In all honesty, you’d been looking for an excuse to wear this for a while. You slipped it on, paired with a pair of chunky black heels as well as your black dahlia necklace. You returned to your phone, so molly was able to see my outfit.

“Well?” You asked nervously.

“Oh my god!! You look gorgeous” Molly squealed.

You laughed slightly but had to agree with her. For the first time in a while, you felt truly beautiful.

“I was thinking of bringing my little black clutch and maybe doing my hair in a messy bun?” You suggested, scooping your hair up.

“Do not touch your hair.” Molly practically yelled.

You blinked, eyes wide, as you dropped your hair. “Why not?”

“Y/n your natural hair is perfect. It looks so much nicer if you leave it down.” She explained.

“But will it not look really messy?” You very rarely wore your hair down due to the fact it was naturally very curly. You always thought it looked quite shabby.

“No trust me. It looks amazing.” You sighed. You trusted her opinion, so you left it. Just then a notification popped up on your phone.

“On my way, be there in about 20 minutes. J x”

“Oh shit, I’ve got to go. He’s on his way there. Okay, thank you for everything Molls. I’ll talk to you later.” You grabbed your things before hanging up the phone.

You rushed out of your room, not even noticing the boys in the front room.

“Wow.” John’s voice came from in front of you.

Your head snapped up, finally clocking they were there. John was sat at the desk with his laptop as stood staring the wall with a bunch of newspaper clippings all over it.

“Y/n you look…wow.” John repeated, looking you up and down.

“uh thank you?” You chuckled nervously as you double checked the contents of my bag.

“I mean that in a good way of course.” He reassured.

You nodded. “Good to know.”

You pulled your jacket on and double checked your makeup in the mirror.

“Right boys, I’m off. No idea what time I’ll be home so don’t wait up.” You turned to walk out the door but walked straight into a certain detective’s chest.

“Jesus sherlock.” He stared down at you, his eyes raking over your body.

“I have to go Sher I’ll be late.” You said, hoping he’d move.

“You are utterly divine.” He muttered. Your heart jumped for a moment.

“What?” You whispered.

He cleared his throat, shaking his head slightly as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He moved to the side, letting you move past.

“Have a nice time. Call if you need anything.” He said, turning his back to you.

You stood there, momentarily stunned before you snapped back into reality. You walked towards the door.

“Right. Um yeah, I’ll see you later.” And with that you left the flat, still processing what Sherlock had said.

****

The date was wonderful. James was an absolute gentleman, and if you were being totally honest with yourself – you were falling for him. Since the restaurant the two of you had been out on a good few dates, each one of them making you fall further and further for him. Sherlock wasn’t pleased. You were never around anymore. Well that isn’t strictly true, considering he lives with you, and you help him on cases but in his mind you weren’t there. He felt like he never got a moment to just be with you, without the stress of a mass murderer or a kidnapping on his mind. John had noticed the change in the detective’s behaviour, which just amused him.

“Y/n, we need to go to Cornwall this weekend for a case. It’s a big one, we think Moriarty is behind it.” Sherlock said, striding into the room with john following shortly behind you.

“Hello to you too” You mumbled, adjusting your position on the sofa.

“We are leaving early tomorrow so be ready.” Sherlock continued, ignoring your comment.

“I can’t come, I have plans.” You replied casually.

“Going out with your coffee man again? That’s what like 3 times this week?” John asked, sitting down next to you.

“Yep, he’s got a whole weekend planned for us.” You smiled.

The detective froze, his back to you. The excitement in your voice was evident and Sherlock felt an intense wave of anger wash over him. He didn’t like this side of himself, and he had no idea why you being happy was provoking this reaction from him. He usually loved nothing more then when you were smiling or laughing. But he wanted to be the one making you feel that way.

“Did you not hear what I said? This case has got Moriarty written all over it. You can’t just decide not to come because of some random idiot you met at a coffee shop.” Sherlock seethed.

You frowned at him, standing to face him. “He’s not some random idiot Sherlock. He means a lot to me.” You argued.

“Well then maybe you’re an idiot too. Look cancel your plans; we need you with us.”

You laughed in his face. “I am not an idiot for falling for someone who actually gives two shits about me and treats me well. I’m sorry you don’t know what it feels like to have someone want to be around you but I’m not cancelling my plans to help you with some bullshit case so you can insult me more.” You raged.

You hadn’t meant to sound quite so harsh, but he was really winding you up. Ever since you’d started dating James he took any opportunity he could to make you feel bad about being happy and you were sick of it. You were finally getting over him and he chooses to be an arse about it. Sherlock blinked back at you, momentarily shocked by your words. The tension in the air was thick before he decided to speak again.

“Y/n, we need you. I need you there. Please” He asked, his tone a lot softer.

You sighed, looking at the floor. “I’m sorry Sherlock. I hope it goes well.” You replied before leaving the flat.

Sherlock watched as you left, unable to fully comprehend what had just happened.

“Well…that was…something.” John commented.

*****

The next day when you woke up, the boys had already left. You felt bad because you hadn’t spoken to Sherlock since the argument and now you weren’t going to see him for two days. Thoughts of him getting hurt, or something worse began to flash through your mind. You couldn’t let yesterday be the last thing you said to him. You scrambled to get your phone, finding his contact before shooting him a message. Down in Cornwall, Sherlocks phone buzzed as he was examining a body.

“John.” He instructed.

John sighed “yeah I know, give me a second”

John grabbed the phone from the detective’s coat before pulling up the message. “

Its from y/n” John said.

Sherlocks head snapped up, grabbing the phone from john.

“I didn’t mean what I said. You just know how to push every single one of my buttons Mr Holmes. Stay safe and catch me a killer. y/n xx” Sherlock grinned at the message before promptly putting the phone back in his pocket.

After a while you decided you should probably et up and start getting ready for you’re weekend away. James had told you he’d be round to collect you and 2pm and you still hadn’t packed. It was exciting that he wanted to surprise you, but without knowing where you were going – you didn’t have a clue what to pack. You stared at the wardrobe in front of you, hands on your hips as you wracked your brain on what the best choice was here. However, before you could continue our mental debate much longer your phone started ringing. Deciding to come back to your clothes later, you grabbed your phone and headed to the kitchen.

“Hey, you” You answered happily.

“Hey y/n, how are you?” James asked over the phone.

“I’m good, definitely not packing last minute I don’t know why you would even suggest that” You reply with a light chuckle.

James laughed nervously, making your brow furrow in confusion.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah…well actually no. Look I’m really sorry, but I can’t actually take you where I’d planned this weekend” He replied.

Your heart sunk a little as you placed the cup of tea you’d been making on the counter in front of you.

“Oh.” Was all you could think to say.

You had been really excited to get away with him.

“I am so sorry. But something came up at work which means I actually have to stay in London.”

You felt a twinge of annoyance at that. You’d turned down a work opportunity for him, but he couldn’t do the same for you? Not that he knew you done that but that wasn’t the point.

“But I still want to see you. I was just thinking we could do something else instead. I’d offer to let you stay over at mine, but my roommates are pretty annoying and-“

“Stay at mine” You blurted out, not really thinking.

James still was yet to meet John and Sherlock, let alone visit your shared flat. But them being in a way for the weekend presented you with a window of opportunity.

“Really?” He sounded surprised at your suggestion.

“Yeah, I mean that way you don’t have to leave London and we still get to spend the weekend together.”

“But your roommates-“

“Are away for work. They won’t be back till Monday evening at the earliest. We can have the whole place to ourselves” You said, smiling.

“Well that could not be more perfect.” He replied.

“Brilliant, ill text you the address and you can head over for 12ish if that still works?” You suggested as you headed back to your room.

“Sounds good, I have a few work calls to make but I should be done with those in time and then I’ll head straight over.”

“Okay, ill see you soon James” You said goodbye, a grin on your face.

It hadn’t been the weekend you were expecting, but it was good enough for you. It also solved your packing issue. You shoved your suitcase back in your cupboard as you began to tidy the flat, the nerves of him seeing your place for the first time finally setting in. It’ll be fine You thought. A weekend in with eh guy you were falling for, what more could you ask for?

****

It was midday Sunday when the boys were finally back in London, making their way back to their flat. Neither one had bothered to tell you they were on their way home, assuming you were out with your mystery guy.

"john I’m telling you, there was no way Moriarty wasn’t leading us astray. That whole case was way too simple. He’s misdirecting us and we were stupid enough to fall for it.” Sherlock ranted as he unlocked the door.

“That may be true Sherlock but that doesn’t get us any closer to finding out what he’s got planned. You heard what Mycroft said, nothing else has happened while we’ve been away. He may have sent us on what was essentially a wild goose chase, but he hasn’t done anything else so what now?” John replied as they made there way up the stairs.

Sherlock was about to reply as he pushed the door to his flat open, but the sight before him made the words die in his throat.

“Sherlock?” John noticed how tense his friend had become. “What’s wrong-“ He stepped around the detective to look into the apartment, his face dropping in shock.

You heard the door swing open, your head snapping round to see Sherlock staring intently at you.

“What the fuck” You muttered scrambling to get off of James’s lap. You’d been enjoying a rather heavy make out session moments before. Your face flushed red as john also caught sight of you in the compromising position.

“Why are you guys’ home already?” You asked rather frustratedly.

James didn’t say anything, but you noticed his grip on you hadn’t loosened.

“Y/n, come here.” Sherlocks voice was low, almost scarily so.

His eyes burned into you as he glared at you. You noticed the lack of colour in John’s face. Why were they being so weird?

“What? No! What the hell is wrong with the pair of you? You’re acting like you’ve never seen someone kiss before” You scoffed.

“Y/n seriously, listen to him.” John said, a hint of nerves laced in his tone.

You stared at the two of them, feeling increasingly more annoyed. Why were they being so ridiculous?

“No!! John what the hell-“

“Get over here. Now” Sherlock demanded once more.

You were about to reply when you heard a small chuckle from behind you.

“I’m not going to hurt her if that’s what you think” James said from behind you.

You noticed now the boys weren’t glaring at you, but rather him. You turned to face him, utterly lost. His face had changed, he didn’t look as kind as he had moments before. He wore a sinister smirk on his lips, his eyes gleaming with an emotion you couldn’t quite place but it unsettled you to no end.

“James? What are you talking about?”

“Let go of her wrist then” Sherlock replied, talking to him as if you weren’t even in the room.

His words made you realise just how tight James was holding onto you. You tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you. Your heart was racing, a bad feeling sinking into your bones.

“James, let go” You tried to keep your voice steady, but he noticed the way it wavered.

He chuckled ominously, meeting your slightly panicked gaze. “Would you look at that” He leant forward, so close you could feel his breath on your face.

He reached up a hand to brush some hair from your face, causing you to flinch. “She’s scared. Poor thing. Rather pathetic actually, considering how you had your tongue down my throat not too long ago” He said, his words laced with venom.

Your face flushed red in embarrassment.

“Why are you being like this James?” You asked, your voice just higher than a whisper.

“You know that’s such a boring name. James” He grimaced as he said it. “No I much prefer Jim. Or the name your little friends over there know me by. Any guesses as to what it might be pet?” He asked you with a smirk.

You sat staring at him in silence. Nothing about this situation made sense.

“Moriarty” Sherlock’s voice answered for you.

Your blood ran cold. It felt like your heart had stopped beating as you stared at the man in front of you. The man you had developed feelings for. Your reality came crashing down around you. Fear swept through you as you sat there, frozen.

He grinned wickedly at you. “Hiya love.”

Suddenly you felt the cool metal of a blade against your stomach. You heard the boys tense from behind you. Your breath caught in your throat as Moriarty just laughed.

“Now what are we going to do with you?”

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

Thoughts?? Part two??

[ghostoffuturespast]

So It Goes - Chapter 41: Anarchy

[X]

The hallway exploded. Concussions rippled and wracked the air, followed a millisecond later by the shredding of glass and metal. Shock waves sent stray bits of shrapnel rocketing past to lodge in the carpet while chunks of concrete catapulted in a spray of dust and battered the walls. Screams; the bang of the starting guns. The timer started.

I'm nearing the end of this fic, and, well, no more poems after this. (At least, I don't think...) So, I did something a little special for the occasion. Maybe kinda spoilery if you're reading the fic, but if you've played the game, you already know.

Transcript below the cut if you don't want to listen to me read remixed poetry for 4:20. (ha) Not quite formatted correctly since there aren't any justification settings here and I skipped my playing around with blank space, but you get the drift:

The Sailing Rime of J. Alfred Prufrock and The Ancient Mariner's Love Song to Byzantium

I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. To ask a question: Would you take a bullet for me? And some in dream assured were Of the Spirit that plagued us so; Nine fathom deep he had followed us From the land of mist and snow. The self-same moment I could pray, And from my neck so free The Albatross fell off, and sank Like lead into the sea. Let us go then, you and I... And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor- And this, and so much more?- It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say: "That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all." No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous- Almost, at times, the Fool. That is no country for old men. The young In one another's arms, birds in the trees, -Those dying generations- at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unageing intellect. I grow old... I grow old... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. An aged man is but a paltry thing, A tattered coat upon a stick, unless Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing For every tatter in its mortal dress, Nor is there singing school but studying Monuments of its own magnificence; An therefore I have sailed the seas and come To the holy city of Byzantium. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. O sages standing in God's holy fire As in the gold mosaic of a wall, Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre, And be the singing-masters of my soul. Consume my heart away; sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is; and gather me Into the artifice of eternity. I do not think that they will sing to me. Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enamelling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake; Or set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot Sailing to Byzantium by William Butler Yeats

[butmakeitgayblog]

So I'm relatively new to the fandom, and during my stay in this rabbit hole, that is, Clexa, I've got a few questions that I'm hoping you could answer :)

Why is everyone here pro-Lexa? Like don't get me wrong I absolutely love Lexa as a character and Alycia is a queen, but why all the hate towards some of the other characters, like Bellamy? I've never watched The 100 the whole way through (literally exited outta the show the second Lexa died), even then, it's been years since I watched it. Did I miss something while I was binge-watching, or was my teenage brain at the time just too immature to realize he was a total jackass..? Also, it's not just Bellamy, I've also seen hate for Bob, the actor who plays him. Which brings me to another question: does this fandom not like Eliza? I always see so much support when Alycia has an upcoming project or is posting Instagram updates but nothing for Eliza? Again, no judgment for the Alycia love because I completely understand why everyone here is head over heels in love with that girl but I just wanted to know, has Eliza ever done anything wrong? Or have I just conveniently only stumbled upon Alycia stans on this app?

Anyway, a totally unrelated note but since I'm here… may I just say ma'am, your writing is the bomb diggity. Like the perfect blend of humor, sexiness, angst, and fluff, THE GODDAMN FLUFF. Genius, you're a genius, like a mad scientist of Clexa fanfic. Hope you keep doing what you're doing, my friend. Take your time though, and don't listen to those ignorant anons that are crawling around yelling "wHy ArE yOu TaKiNg So LoNg To UpDaTe?" Thank you for writing for the Clexa fandom! ❤️

First I wanna say thank you for the sweet words and reading, that means so much to me 🥹💕 not to be a nerd but I screenshot that for one of my worse imposter syndrome days lol

Long post so you can read under the cut. Long time clexas you can just skip if you want because honestly I got annoyed all over again just typing it and you know it all already 🥴

Now right off the top, you don't have to hate Bellamy if you don't want to. It's not like that's a prereq for being a clexa, so if you like him, like him and don't worry about what anyone says. He's a fictional character so anyone who gets intense over someone liking him I think needs to take a walk.

But the reason why a lot of Clexas, myself included, hate him is somewhat of a two part answer. The main reason being is that his character is trash 😅. I mean I'm not gonna dissect every little bit of canon but the main points for me at least, since I can't speak for anyone else, are that he was constantly fucking up literally everything. He gets to earth, proclaims "tHeRe aRe nO RuLeS" and then,,, immediately declares himself the leader and starts forcing people to follow what he says. He literally almost let Clarke fall into a pit of spikes, tried to handcuff her and keep her hostage "for her own good", he spearheaded the whole thing with taking off their wristbands, HE BACKED PIKE, participated in the massacre of a peaceful army sent to protect skaikru, he constantly shamed and blamed Clarke for everything that ever went wrong even when a lot of that stuff was either the best solution in a bad situation OR was an indirect fallout from something fucked up that skaikru had done. The sweaty little fucker was always trying to control/manipulate Clarke and skaikru and his own damn sister despite the fact that everything he ever planned himself turning out to be: A Terrible Idea. Basically the dude sucked but was held up on spindles of glorification as being this heroic uwu soft boy that wasn't actually supported by any one damn thing in canon when you actually look at it objectively. And I'm sure I'm even forgetting stuff. The dude just sucked.

Agian, that's my own two cents.

The other reason being, it's rollover from having to deal with blarks. Their constant harassment and shoving their fanon, non-existent ship down everyone's throat, while being entitled little brats throwing tantrums about them not happening at every turn has led from what probably would've been just a mild distaste for a character for most into loathing even the name. Understand I'm not saying the word harassment lightly. They were awful for years. Death threats and homophobia, spamming inboxes with hateful messages and sending awful pictures/memes etc. One even sent EJT a dick pic with Blark written on their penis. They sent memes non-stop about Lexa dying when people were still reeling from it. I'm not saying all Blarks are bad because they're not, but there was enough harassment and viciousness from a large enough and loud enough faction that at a certain point it becomes a blanket feeling of animosity toward the entire ship and everything that follows it.

As for disliking EJT. In reality, she used to be the fandom favorite. I mean she was our girl because she used to champion us and was hilarious about it. Go look up old cons and interviews with her. She was funny and great. Once upon a time E was our biggest cheerleader and dealt with A Lot of abuse and harassment from The Other fandom for it. I'm talking body shaming, slut shaming, comments about her intelligence, sexual harassment and trolling her about her boyfriends and very descriptive messages about how they wanted her to harm herself. The list goes on. And no one, especially not Bob who was the golden boy for The Other fandom, ever said a word in her defense. Never told his fans to stop or that he condemned it. Ever. Not once. That never sat well with clexas, but you can't control what other people do.

We had her back anyway. So, it was whatever. Gross, but whatever.

And then she married Bob. Which, and Blarks cannot seem to wrap their heads around this fact, literally no cared about. She could've just married him and kept being the same person and no one would've cared. In fact, the way this fandom loved her, at first everyone was like hmmm weird and sudden but good for her I guess! Be happy!

But then Bob's ex came forward with very serious allegations about her past relationship with him. She released a statement that you can easily find online and from that it painted a very dark picture of things that involved both him and EJT. As I'm someone who believes victims, I have no reason not to believe her, and since the very bizarre (non) rebuttal that EJT posted in reply made zero sense, that was that. It changed the lens of how a lot of people started looking at her.

Which leads me to the charities.

Hear a collective Clexa sigh.

They're a saga in themselves, but to sum it up as short as possible, EJT had been a part of a children's organization for YEARS that she herself helped set up. Clexas raised a lot of money for this charity through fundraising and selling fanart and we really cared about it. And literally within months of them being married, he became involved in it, and then shortly thereafter, magically they both had to "step away from it" for dubiously explained reasons. (Which, if you read his ex's statement, logical deduction of what probably actually happened will make more sense than what they claimed, and not in a good way.) Sensibly, they started recieving backlash from supporters because, again a lot of people had been helping this charity for years and all of a sudden she was just gone from it and all the projects were halted. I'm not blaming solely her for anything but to just cut and run like she did was sus to say the least.

So to steer away from that shitshow, they started another charity. With a bunch of right-wing MAGA nuts. Yeah. They weren't open or transparent about anything, no records of where any of the money was going, iirc no real legitimate charity registration/tax documentation that anyone could find (and in the US that's all public info sooooooo). It was a total clusterfuck that people started calling them out on from the start. At first they tried to ignore it and just keep collecting money by doing these ridiculous cameos as cash grabs, but just like the first charity, after a while (and a lot of initially unaccounted for money being raised) the poor little darlings just had to "step away for mental health reasons."

Which I would accept and support wholeheartedly because mental health is extremely serious... except funnily, they didn't stop doing the cameos. They kept doing those and charging their fans money to listen to them blather on about made up ~behind the scenes info~ about Blark stuff and it being super secretly canon but for a million reasons that they don't know and can't name, stopped it from happening. Claims of love scenes and kisses that have never been backed up by evidence (like a script) or corroborated by a single person involved in the show. But it's totally true guys, just trust them bro. So yeah, they've kept doing all that. Just... not giving the money they're charging for the cameos to their "charity."

So that's the meat of it, I might be forgetting things and smudging some finer details because it's been a long while ago, but I think you can get the gist. People don't like Bob because he was an ass to fans and EJT herself before them even getting married. He's said ableist things and quoted racists trying to sound smart and never once apologized for anything. He's been accused of abuse in his personal life and has never addressed it, only made his wife write a terrible fanfiction-esque response to appease his ardent followers. And frankly, she pissed off her fans. Once she married him, she completely flipped her personality from a funny charity doing, body positivity leading, cheerleading about "Clexa are soulmates" and "Lexa is the love of Clarke's life" girl, to doing personal cash grabs constantly while spewing all this made up Blark garbage that directly contradicts things they've both said in the past to please her faithful paying cameo fans (read his fans).

It's all left a lot of people with a bad taste in their mouth, to say the least.

And ya best believe if Alycia does some crazy shit, I'll turn on her too 🤷‍♀️ but honestly I'm not too worried about that cuz the girl is a cryptid who you literally can't pay to go to cons or do cameos

[arimiaromage]

Mana's "Death" Theory

Full spoilers for DGM up to chapter 244, brief mention of 245. Here's a crack theory I haven't seen around, despite new evidence.

Mana died and Allen brought him back as an akuma. Except Mana is also the Earl, both as his vessel and the doppelganger of the original/previous Earl. And the current Earl!Mana is changing emotionally, as if he still has memories from being Mana submerged deep under being the "Earl", despite his memories being wiped by Innocence in chapter 242.

I don't think it's a huge stretch to say that Mana, in some form, is still alive. Not only is he a pivotal character but given how much Earl!Mana currently has shifted his goals to want to be with Nea (something the actual Earl should not want), I wouldn't be surprised if we see Mana return in some way eventually.

Okay, but let's get back to Allen turning him into an akuma, cause that totally happened, right?

We also (much later) have the Earl remember something similar to this...

Let's note some things here, if this scene happened just as Allen & the Earl remember it:

Mana died in some way

Allen was able to bury him and buy a tombstone

Despite being 6 feet under, the Earl was able to appear to Allen

Allen called for Mana, bringing his soul into an akuma shell

Mana curses Allen- both an actual curse upon him and general yelling at him for doing such a thing

Allen invokes his innocence and destroys Mana

Earl leaves

Only Allen and the Earl / Mana were present for this (Cross appears afterwards, it's unknown if he witnessed it)

...With everything we know now, this sequence of events is kind of ridiculous, right??

For one, Mana died. We don't know how tough he is as a human, but the Mana that Allen knew was already the Earl for some time. It's safe to say he still had his Noah abilities that awakened around Nea's death.

Being a Noah isn't something you can just turn off for good- even if you don't look like a Noah, you are still a Noah.

As Wisely says- "Noah are Noah. You cannot escape."

Earl!Mana can get shot in the face several times and laugh it off but amnesiac Mana can just die off screen? Okay, sure...

I'm gonna skip over the idea that a broke orphan was able to properly bury and get a tombstone for someone. We'll let that pass since there's more damning stuff here.

In Allen's memory, the Earl was essentially in 2 places at once. He was both 6 feet under, in the grave, and standing behind him, by the tombstone. Of course, Allen didn't know they were the same person, but still- how is he there twice?

Well, he already has been in the same place twice... Or has he?

At the circus, the Earl that appears is a shell. It doesn't say anything, it can only command akuma. Cross specifically refers to it as something akin to a shell or a husk.

But the Earl that Allen meets is not an empty husk. It speaks to him, it encourages him to call on Mana like the Earl does to every grieving person.

Let's say that the Earl that Allen met was Earl!Mana, who, after dying, turned into the Earl and... escaped... somehow... idk maybe they buried an empty coffin or he just dug his way up.

If the Earl can essentially possess a dead body, why didn't he posses Nea when he died? Mana returned to his senses as Nea was dying- he had awakened as a Noah but he was himself for a brief time. If Mana had somehow overpowered the Earl to reclaim his senses, then why didn't the Earl try to possess Nea once he died?

There's a few more things I could nitpick, like how out of character akuma!Mana acts, but I think you get the point. Even if we accept that some things will have changed in the vision over the past almost 2 decades since Hoshino illustrated the scene of Mana's "death", there's still a lot of discrepancies...

So let's assume the Earl can't possess a dead body. That the Earl needs Mana or Nea to be willing to let him take over, at least somewhat. There's still one major part we haven't picked at yet.

Allen and Mana were the only ones there that day.

We've seen how, ah, hand selected Allen's recounting of his past can be. I don't think it's unfair to call him an unreliable narrator- that's not a bad thing, a most of why he glosses over or changes some details is because of his traumatic history.

We've also seen how easily the Earl can rewrite his own memories to accommodate "facts"- when the 14th is first mentioned, the Earl hated him. When the 14th is shown to be alive, the Earl can't live without him. When Mana fully awakened as the Earl, he couldn't be "Mana" anymore- the Earl was a 7000 year old sorcerer, not a 17 year old human, so Mana and Nea never existed in his mind.

And what better way to alter their memories than the antagonist roaming around following them who has been known to fully alter people's memories??

Apocryphos can alter memories. He knew where Allen and Mana were and was actively following them. He's been shown to be aggressive towards Allen and Mana and doesn't care about their memories- he erased Mana's memories of Nea already.

But what did Apocryphos erase?

OKAY HERE WE ARE FINALLY CRACK THEORY TIME. BUCKLE UP

The Earl can't possess Mana or Nea just whenever. We saw this most prominently at the circus. But there's one thing that Cross said to the Earl that stuck with me.

"You may have been summoned by Mana's grief, but it's not like he's fallen into despair."

"So long as Mana remains unwilling..."

In an earlier scene at the circus, Mana thinks something along the same lines:

The Earl is summoned when people grieve. But for Mana and Nea, their grieving is a gateway for the Earl to take over them.

If they are willing and they are grieving, the Earl can possess them.

So how did Mana become the Earl again?

Theory: Mana did not die, but Allen did.

Specifically, Mana didn't die, but Allen either died or became extremely injured to where Mana thought he died. I've seen some people speculate as to Allen being dead/an akuma or such, but I'd like to posit this newer evidence.

I imagine the scene could have played out something like this:

Allen and Mana travel to that town and get separated briefly. Something happens to Allen- either he dies or becomes badly injured. Mana finds him. Mana is overcome with so much grief he inadvertently summons the Earl. Mana's memories have been erased so he doesn't know to fear the Earl, and willingly lets him take over. The Earl curses Allen and leaves when his Innocence invokes on its own and attacks him. Allen later wakes up, healed from possibly being a Noah, his Innocence reviving him again, a passerby patching him up, something. Cross finds him.

This sequence of events could provide answers for:

Why did Mana curse Allen? It was Earl!Mana, not Mana

How did Mana, a Noah, die? He didn't

How did Allen summon Mana into the akuma shell when his body was already there? He didn't

Why did Apocryphos go out of his way to erase Mana's memories at the circus rather than kill him? So Mana wouldn't fear the Earl and would be more likely to return to him

I feel the weakest part of this is Allen somehow reviving/being healed, but we've seen his Innocence revive him before so I feel it's not that much of a stretch that something would heal him, especially compared to the amount of leaps in logic the current sequence of events has.

To reiterate my evidence:

Not once but TWICE it has been explicitly shown in the past 10ish chapters that when Mana grieves, the Earl shows up, and is even further elaborated that the Earl cannot possess Mana without his consent.

Several parts of the "Allen turned Mana into an akuma" scene don't make sense with what we know now, even giving Hoshino some leniency that she changed some stuff over the past 2 decades

Apocryphos was following Allen and Mana. He can not only change memories but he's already done so at least once with Mana

What killed Mana, a Noah????

The sequence of events I've laid out is just an idea of how things could have played out- I doubt it'll be exactly what we see in the story. However, I do believe that Allen's memories have been altered or at least the way he's presented the akuma scene is not how it actually happened.

so yeah that's my crack theory on why my favorite character surely can't be dead ♥ if you read all of this wow, have a happy Allen & Mana for your time

[is-it-mungojerry-or-rumpelteazer]

Why I dislike the LotR movies

A few weeks months ago @acaseofsilverspoons​ asked me why I say I hate the Lord of the Rings movies, and I promised I would try to give an explanation. Sorry for the delay, I have a lot of thoughts and it has taken a bit of time to order them in my head and then I forgot about this draft.

Movie people following the newsletter: stop reading now. I am going to spoil the hell out of it. And even if you don’t care about spoilers, if you like the movies you’re probably going to get defensive and enjoy the novels less because of it. I don’t want to be the reason you enjoy Tolkien less. Come back once you’re done reading, I’ll be happy to discuss then!! ^^

Disclaimer: I haven’t watched the movies. I have a very weak visual imagination and I hated the design of the elves on sight, so I decided to avoid getting them as my default elves; and I react very badly to peer pressure, which means the more people tell me I need to watch them the least I want to. I still think I have enough information to base my opinions, but well. There you go. Can't tell me I lied to you.

The first, and main reason, I “hate” the LotR movies is very well summarized by this strip of the webcomic Weregeek.

The movies are good enough, and good enough adaptations, and enough of a cultural milestone, that people talk of them as if the movies and the novels were interchangeable. Tolkien was never exactly obscure, and it’s not like people are at risk of forgetting the novels exist, but a lot of people have seen the movies but will never read the books, and even people who are into the genre will read the novel after seeing the movies. So you have people who have only experienced the movies thinking they know all that there is to know, and people who have experienced both getting to the novel with the preconceptions of the movies (see all the people analyzing Frodo’s actions as effects of the Ring from day 1 in the newsletter, or people immediately assuming book!Denethor is an abusive parent... we’ll come back to that). I’ve heard people say “don’t worry about reading the novels, the movies are enough”. And they are NOT. They are very much NOT. Even if you think every single choice in the movies is justified and good, there were a lot of choices made. They’re not equivalent.

Let me expand on that under a Read More because believe me, this is going to get long.

Let’s start with the themes.

First of all: Lord of the Rings is not an action story. If anything, it is an anti-war novel. Even though most characters admit that violence is sometimes necessary, almost universally it is considered a necessary evil. We have Faramir, the closest to a Moral Compass Man we have, literally spelling that he doesn’t like war for itself, but only for what it defends. And the narration mirrors this: except for the Battle of Helm’s Deep, every battle is either skipped over (the Black Gate), told in retrospect (Isengard) or interspersed with sections about the grief it brings (Pelennor). And in all cases, we end them with lengthy descriptions of the people that died and the grief they caused. It’s hard to finish the novel going “oh, the battle of Pelennor was awesome! I wish there were more!” when the last thing you hear about it is three pages of obituaries. In contrast, the movies fall into the trap of wanting to utilize their shiny new technology and their great visuals for battle scenes, and end up making battles cool. I have lost count of the dudebros whose take on the LotR movies was “weren’t the battles awesome???”. And before you come for me with “but the text says”, to quote Lindsay Ellis, movies are a visual medium. If you make the battles the most visually appealing and fun part of your movie to watch, you can have characters have unending monologues about how bad war is, that’s not the message people are going to get from it. And if you make a LotR adaptation whose message is “war is cool and fun”, you’ve missed the mark by a mile.

Secondly, another big theme about Lord of the Rings is that in the end, it’s the small people that make the difference, and that noone wins alone. To quote Elrond, “you may find friends upon your way when you least look for it”. But the movies, in their (reasonable) quest to streamline the story to fit a movie runtime, choose to prioritize the more classically heroic characters and arcs, sacrificing the small people for the big flashy kings and warriors. Pippin and Merry’s contributions get pushed to the side, while Aragorn not only retains all his original plotpoints, but even gets a shiny new subplot that was only in the appendixes in the novel. And also everyone who isn’t a member of the Fellowship (and not even that.. we’ll get back to Gimli) gets their role changed to make the actions of our heroes more necessary. Théoden is under a literal spell that needs to be lifted by Gandalf, and has to be told how to do war by Aragorn; the Ents decide not to attack Isengard and have to be reminded of the stakes by the hobbits; Denethor is such an incompetent nutjob that Gandalf can hit him in front of his guards and nobody cares. I understand the urge to make the main characters more important,, but LotR has a very strong feel of people in the same danger uniting to fight together instead of fending for themselves; this way, the secondary characters feel less like allies and more like sidequests.

And that gives me a nice segue into another, less important but more annoying issue: the characters.

Noone who follows my tumblr will be surprised to discover that Pippin and Merry, especially Pippin, are my favourite characters. If you asked me to tell you what are my favourite scenes in the book, which parts I’ve re-read the most often, they would be A Conspiracy Unmasked, P&M’s meeting with Treebeard, Éowyn’s monologue, the passage with Pippin and Bergil, and The Scouring of the Shire. Do I need to explain more? Except for Treebeard and Éowyn, none of these scenes made it into the movie. Which is a crime against me, personally. But apart from being annoying to me because I like them, it also means that their entire character arcs (again, especially Pippin’s) completely disappear. Pippin has the most traditional coming-of-age story in the novel: he’s a teenager dragged in an adventure bigger than he expected who has to grow up and learn that the world is bigger than he ever imagined and some things are important, and who then comes back home all grown up and ready to fend for himself. By cutting both A Conspiracy Unmasked and The Scouring of the Shire, you cut both the setup and the payoff of his arc, and by aging up the actor playing the character, you turn him from a learning teenager to a bumbling adult. Is it important in the grand scheme of things? Not really; but every time I see a meme about how Pippin is an idiot I feel like punching a wall.

Denethor. I didn’t know it was possible to be this offended on behalf of a character I don’t even particularly like. When I first looked up Denethor meta I thought I had slipped into a parallel dimension for a while, until I discovered it was just that Peter Jackson had performed a little character assassination of his own. Book!Denethor is not a nice or an endearing character, but he’s not an easily hateable one either. He’s the leader of a country in perpetual war against an enemy way stronger than they are (he has probably been born already under the Shadow of Mordor, knowing he would have to lead his people against it since he was a kid). He is cold, and calculating, and shrewd, and he has sacrificed his humanity (and his family) in order to make the decisions he thinks need to be made. To put it bluntly, he’s a character type who would be a good (and successful!) guy in Game of Thrones. But because he is in a story whose core themes are empathy and friendship and compassion, he’s a tragic figure: when the grief of the sacrifices he was willing to make hits him, he has nothing and noone to lean on, and he breaks. From everything I’ve seen, Peter Jackson has decided to take his character in a more “abusive father” direction. And look, I’m not going to say book!Denethor was a good parent. He was not. But he didn’t just “love Boromir and hate Faramir”. It’s more complicated than that. He was sure of Boromir’s loyalty, while he feared that in a conflict situation, Faramir would side with Gandalf and not him. And as a general, that is a big concern. Also, from everything I’ve read, movie!Denethor’s military tactics are whack from day one, which kind of diminishes his characterization as a cold but effective general. But that might just be a question of filmmakers not understanding medieval military methods, which... fair, I guess. On a related note, what’s that about a scene of him eating a tomato?? Did they really give him a scene explicitly designed to be disgusting and unrelatable?? The quest to make Denethor more hateable, though, is not only a problem because of his character. His character choices bleed onto others. In particular, Boromir, Faramir and Pippin. If Denethor is an abusive nutjob, why is Pippin drawn to swear loyalty to him? Is he an idiot?? Boromir comes off as the favoured child in an abusive household. But the worst is Faramir. A few weeks ago someone who is movie-only described him to me as “Faramir is the brother of Boromir that is hated by his dad, right?”. And I don’t think I can explain my reaction to Faramir, fucking Faramir, being reduced to a wet blanket who looks very sad and does nothing while his dad walks all over him. Just give me that gif of a guy screaming into a pillow.

And lastly on the “character assassination” column, Gimli. I think I’ll leave @carlandrea​ take the mic on this one, they can say more than I could possibly, and better. All I’m going to say is that, from everything I’ve seen, the movies take one of the more well-spoken, dignified characters, and made him into a bumbling, crass comic relief who fits closer to a D&D parody dwarf than anything Tolkien ever wrote.

And now, let me end with some quick-fire complaints that wouldn’t be important if the ones above hadn’t happened.

What happened with the male elves’ design?? I understand holding a casting for “otherworldly beautiful men” is not doable, but why do they look like that?? And it’s not that they can’t do elves, Galadriel and Arwen look good! Were they scared to make them “look gay” if they were too pretty?? If that’s the case, why didn’t they lean into the “otherwordly” part of it and made them alien-looking? WoW elves look more interesting than that!!

Also, I need to have a serious talk with the wig department. Why do the elves’ wigs have no volume?? Why do they look limp and dead? Why is Elrond balding? What’s going on here??

While we’re on the topic of character designs, it’s a pet peeve of mine that the hobbits only have hair on the top of their feet. It looks more decorative than anything and I don’t like it.

Last complaint about the character designs, I promise: this is not a criticism of Elijah Wood’s acting. I have never seen him act, I couldn’t say. But Frodo is supposed to be a middle-aged gentlehobbit. Why is he played by a 20 year old skinny guy who looked like a teenager?? Why is Frodo not fat?? On that note, why is Sam the only fat hobbit? They are hobbits! They are defined by ruddy cheeks and round bellies!! Did the producers think a middle-aged fat protagonist would be too much for an audience to swallow??

I’m not sure if I got this right, but I think in the movies Arwen’s life is tied to Aragorn taking his throne?? Because if that’s true, wow, way to make her into a more active character in the beginning only to tie her entire existence to a male character’s story arc!

And while we’re on the subject of stuff I suspect but I’m not sure of, I’ve seen enough Éowyn takes with the same uncanny valley feel as Denethor’s to suspect they did something to her character. And if they turned her into a Hollywood Strong Female Character Who Don’t Need No Man (TM) I will bite someone.

Lastly on this category, I am very confused about the elves from Lórien who apparently appear randomly at Helm’s Deep. Is Lórien not being attacked in this version of events (again, reinforcing the idea that everything revolves around the main characters)? Where do they go after the battle? Did they come for two days and then go back to Lórien? That sounds like a stupid plan... And also, you are aware the Rohirrim are super fucking distrustful of elves, right, PJ? How the hell did Aragorn convince Théoden and Éomer to let a battalion of elves into the Helm??

If you’ve gotten all the way here, thank you so much! It got longer than I expected, which was already very long, so thank you for bearing with me! I am willing to discuss and debate all of these, as long as it is civil.

[ashwii]

i wanted to ask stuff about your rottmnt celestial au and idk if i'm doing it right (im new to tumblr), but uh apologies in advance i thought of a lot of questions

so since Leo feels pain when one of the stars die, does Mikey also feel pain when a comet dies? what about the things they overlook but don't embody (other moons, other suns, all the other zippity things)? do they still feel physical pain for those things?

2. are Raph and Donnie literally the sun/moon? bcuz you said what happens for eclipses , but like- is the sun literally a giant turtle and are donnie and raph just stuck in orbit? if they wanted to travel to a different part of space, would the sun/moon just disappear?

3. is each individual star, zippity thing, moon, and sun, embodied by a creature thing like the turtles? you said that they consider the planets good friends, so are the planets creatures? and is earth literally whatever creature they are with people living on it?

4. you said that raph is the oldest even though leo would technically be oldest, but i like to imagine leo is the oldest, he just did something really dumb centuries ago and "got his oldest sibling rights revoked." he complains about it sometimes but was compensated with getting to be twins with donnie (this wasn't really a question lol)

5. do the siblings ever feel inferior to each other? like does donnie get upset that he always has to orbit something and does raph get upset he embodies something leo already kinda does? is this angst potential?

6. if the turtles are just floating around in space, does NASA not have any pictures of them? cause satellites? what do they think about satellites and the humans trying to go to space?

7. if the earth's sun/moon died, would raph/donnie also die, or do all of the suns/moons have to die? what about mikey? is it just the comets dying that would kill him or does it have to be everything?

8. is any of the siblings more powerful than the other, or all they all balanced out somehow?

9. what do they do in their free time? it seems like they would get bored a lot

10. what do they think about humans worshipping the sun and stuff? do they even know about that?

11. not a question, but this au seems really cool and i really love the designs C:

Oh boy this is a lot, SO IN ORDER

Yes they do! It's just no where neat as prevalent as leo, since there are LOTS and LOTS of stars up in space.

Ah, that's kinda thinking too deep about it — they make an eclipse bc it's a "sun and moon thing" to do, but it's not like they're literally stuck to one spot and can't move. This is just a silly au with fun ideas, no need to limit ourselves to what legitimately happens up in space ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ [and even then, I almost think of the celestial turts more as concepts than physical beings — maybe only having a physical form to talk to april hehe].

Nope! The planets and such are just there doing their own thing. It's like how maybe you pass a tree every day on you way to work, and overtime you say hi to the tree, maybe sit by it, talk to it — that's about the turt's relationship with the planets [and other celestial things], except i like to think there a bit of a legitimate connection there hehe.

[Skipping down to 5] Mmm I don't think so 🤔 maybe as a sibling rivalry thing Leo reminds raph that he's "so much better" than him XD. But they all love their rolls and what they look over.

NASA doesn't have any pics, like I saod I think of the space turts more as concepts than physical beings. Donnie js suoer into eath tech tho — S.H.E.L.D.O.N. is actually made of lost human space tech, and the turts love that the human want to see space so bad.

Donnie and Raph a little different than Leo and Mikey — at least in my head. Donnie and Raph SPECIFICALLY embody earth's moon and sun, so if either Donnie or Raph die, then earth's sun/moon dies. Mikey is the embodiment of ALL the comets, and Leo is the embodiment of ALL the stars. So if Leo were to die, then all the stars would go out, and same kind of thing for Mikey and his comets.

I mean, none of them have powers or anything 🤔 they don't exactly "control" everything that goes on in space, they're just uo there kind of vibing, hehe.

They talk to each other, they tend to what they look over, and they observe the life on earth— seems boring to us, but they love each and every thing up and space, and they love the life on earth so much <3

Mm, I honestly have no idea what they would think about that XD. I feel that maybe they'd be flattered, aha.

And thank you, I'm happy you like the au <3

[goatakiart]

Please don't forget me (Part 3)

(Mirage x Reader)

Art by me 💕

Warning! (Adult themes, triggering topics, blood, alcohol etc.)

A week later

Mc visits the bar with the other legends. Every month, they have a drinking party to celebrate being still alive, and it has become a tradition. Naturally, she never went to a party with Mirage since they partnered up after the last party.

She's dressed to the nines, a black, backless, mid length tight dress with long sleeves and stiletto heels, half her hair tied in a bun with a golden flower accessory. She is not familiar with this kind of clothes, so it's hard to walk or do anything. She waves at everyone and chat about each others adventures, she finds herself joking around with Fuse about Mirage's suicidal tendencies in the battlefield for some time, it's fun being around her friends but she still finds herself eyeing the door from time to to time in case Mirage makes it to the party, she knows he wouldn't miss it even if he had to come crawling. Wattson makes her way to mc, holding two cocktails. She sits and gives her one,"Thank you, Wattson." Mc immediately grabs the drink and gulps it in one sip, still eyeing the door, Wattson pats her shoulder."Is he the reason you dressed so fancy today?" She chuckles teasingly, "You already gulped down 5 cocktails." Mc turns her head to the bar to order a tequila."Yes--I mean no. I just felt like it. Anyway, these cocktails feel like a childish drink. Even if I drank 50, I wouldn't feel a thing." Wattson rests her head on her hand and gives mc a silly expression, wiggling her eyebrows."Then I guess it doesn't matter he's on the door right now." Mc's golden eyes widen, she gulp down the tequila in one go and turn around to check, he wears a navy blue silk suit, a white buttoned top and a black corset vest with velvet flowery patterns, on top of all that, his curls are taken cared of and fluffier than ever, her heart skips a beat at the view, she hastily turns her head to the bar in panic "One more tequila please! I really need a drink right now." Wattson gets up."I think he's coming this way, sis!" she chuckles again, "Wait!" Mc tries to whisper at her in full panic, side eyeing her, trying not to look any other way in embarrassment."Have fuuuun!!" Wattson says as she's ignoring mc's cries for help and leaving her to fend for her own.

She can hear Mirage's voice approaching as he greets everyone, but her eyes are fixed on her drink as she plays dumb.

He sits next to mc on the place Wattson was "Well hello there, beautiful lady!" He greets in a seductive tone. She won't dare to answer or move. She doesn't know if she should be flustered or cringe with his greeting."How is your night at the party? I gave this bar the most exqu-exquisiv-- the best drinks! You know I almost died the other day. Did you watch the show, I assume? Soooo maybe you could care for me today? Have a drink together? haha..." Not being able to contain her disappointment anymore, she her head to face him in desperation."Please shut up...." he suddenly drops the confident man act."HOLY COW! it's yo--- I mean, I knew, haha...hahaha...." He tries to fix his clothes and hair knowing full well he embarrassed himself, she rolls her eyes, turning her head to her drink once more, touching it with her fingertips to raise it and have a sip "Maybe you should go carry that act to someone else and leave me alone hm?" She is annoyed, jealous even - does he just go around saying this stuff to anyone? She tries to ignore these feelings. He laughs awkwardly. "I mean, I fixed my eyes on you first, so that means something,right?... Maybe you're the only one who can match my beauty!" He raises his eyebrows while tilting his head to her side, waiting for a reply, he gives her an expression she can't really ignore, her heart rate is rising but she is still trying to play it cool "I mean, at least my match is good looking..." he forms a satisfied smile on his face, looking more confident than ever, mc tries to smirk, however she still finds herself gulping on tequila, glass after glass, to be able to handle the situation as logically as possible, even tho she can sense her pulse in every bit of her body to the point she feels numb. He drinks with her for some time, sitting really close, none really talks, the tension is too much to take.

[ronispadez]

1 for the choose violance ask?

1: the character everyone gets wrong

AUGGHHHHHHH OHHH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!! LUCAS 4 SURE. also maybe Gerard and Frank and other Band Dudes, but as for actual fictional characters, PROBABLY LUCAS!

Now, we don't have a clear idea of what Lucas is like post time-skip, if he's still the same gentle cry baby as he was before, in the prologue. But you gotta understand that going on a journey like that has got to change a person. He's def a lot more brave than the fandom, AND FUCKING SMASH BROS BRAWL !!! gives him credit for.

Old fanfics will usually give him t-th-he unre-re-alistic s-s-s-s-stuttering habit, which is sssssoooooooooo hard to read sometimes. I understand stuttering as something someone can have naturally, but in this context, it's something he does because he's nervous or scared or flustered. And he does it almost every time he talks until he finally warms up enough, or he's in a perpetual state of flustered. I'd understand if this was an actual speech thing he had that the author brings up, but no, you can tell that the intention is just to make him look more, ... Im not sure the right word, but more Shoujo shy girl like. Y'know?

Mischaracterization can't really be a thing with Mother protags and other silent protagonist. There can be opinions on characters I can either like or dislike, but that doesn't rule out the possibility that the character is "actually" like that. For Ness and Ninten, no one is really right or wrong... Characterizing them as assholes (COUGH mother 1 novel with Ninten/Ken) or as shy or, well, most of the time people just write Ness as a heroic extrovert and/or complete dumbass which personally is the correct way to me.

But in Mother 3, we get more character from Lucas than we do with any other mother protag, in that he's a gentle boy who likes flowers, and the village sees him as a crybaby, even before Hinawa died. (That one lady Flint talks to during the forest fire, before they knew Hinawa died, called Lucas a crybaby)

But fuck dude, even before the time-skip happened, Lucas came in clutch with the drago to save Salsa and Kuma from Fassad!!! You go, baby Lucas! wth!!!!

Anyway I am fucking SICK!!! I AM FYUCKIMG SICKKK!!!!!!!! Of baby-cant-do-nothin-right-pussy-boy Lucas, characterized in fanart or fanfics. I don't want him to just be a stoic asshole, but I also don't want the crybaby part to be laid on too thick, y'know? Characterize him with thought. He can still be a gentle crybaby, but don't make that his whole thing, who cries at any small thing that happens

As much as I love Brawl, it was the start of this trend. As much as I love subspace emissary, they absolutely did Lucas fucking DIRTY. What the fuck is he doing, getting scared over these fuckin doll guys and the poo-poo gas ??? I do understand that he doesn't have his friends and dog with him, so he's lost faith in his solo battling ability. I guess. Also is this after the game ended, where he's endured the worst fucking battle of his life?? Or pre time-skip, making smash, or at least subspace Lucas, a little baby man who hasnt gone thru character development yet? Most likely not. I don't know. Subspace's characterization with Lucas was fucking foul. It started the trend of writing Lucas like a little bitch because that's how most of the world was introduced to him. Most people haven't played his game, so they see him as this little BITCH BOY AUUHGHHHHH

Sorry, I'm rambling and not finishing any of my thoughts, but this is something I have to properly write an essay on or make a fuckin YouTube video about or something. Jesus

I do have to say I think Ness' character in Subspace was pretty cute. I wanna see more fanfics where Lucas gets upset with Ness because he protects him too much and Lucas proves himself as strong enough without Ness' help. And then they kiss maybe. Maybe even hold hands ..

Also I am RIDDLED with Nesscas brain I forgot that's literally what Lucas goes thru when he's with Red, I forgor. But most people just think about the Ness Died Because of Lucas Scene in subspace, not how he protects himself and Red later. Oughhhhhh

PENIS BLAST let's just start over, all the way back in 2008 everybody, cmon, let's go, into the phase distorter

[uncannysam]

Time: The day of Zach's funeral. Content Warnings: mental health tw, depression tw, grief tw

“Tears shed for another person are not a sign of weakness. They are a sign of a pure heart.” ― José N. Harris

Zach didn't look real. He looked...fake. Like every word of "Teenagers" by MCR had come true. That corporate America had gotten ahold of him and turned him into one of them. And as he lay motionless in, at least, a befitting black casket, Sam couldn't take her eyes off of him waiting and hoping that this was all some joke, and in his own twisted sense of humor, spring up and shout "hello" scaring the piss out of Sam and triggering heart attacks in the old people who sat sobbing in the first two rows waiting for the funeral to start. Why won't you just move already?

With a line of people waiting to see him, Sam reluctantly moved on past the multitudes of flowers that smelled straight up like death, and back towards the middle of the rows of chairs set up. Her parents still not there leaving Sam to feel like the outsider all over again. Just like in elementary school, until Zach had come along and insisted that they become friends. But this time, there was no Zach. It was just Sam. The girl who had been there and seen everything the night he died.

She had almost felt guilty sitting there. Like she shouldn't have been allowed to come. After all, she had cowered and watched as creatures that weren't even supposed to be real drained him dry and listened to him moan and cry out until he physically couldn't anymore. But what seemed to make this day even worse had been the stares and whispers of people who knew Zach, more than Sam had realized, as they took her in from her appearance in the local newspaper and pictures that flashed up on tv screens in the other room set to music Zach didn't even like. If he had been here, present at his own funeral, she was almost 100% positive that he would have been complaining as some random, overly emotional song played in the background. But Sam knew that his parents had done the best they could under the circumstances.

"Hey, Sweetheart. How are you holding up?" The voice caused Sam to jump as she looked up to see Zach's mother standing at the end of the row dressed in black, eyes puffy and a tissue in her hand.

"I'm okay." She flashed a smile at his mom, before returning the obligatory "How are you doing?" Since you know, I got your son killed and all. But as Mrs. Harris spoke, Sam had already unintentionally managed to zone out from both guilt and trying to force back the tears that were all but threatening to pop out. And when her parents finally did show and relieve Mrs. Harris from checking on Sam, the young woman let out a soft, inaudible sigh of relief, just as the music started to play ushering people to their seats.

The rest of the service, both in the chapel and graveside, had been a blur. Mostly from Sam living in denial that any of this could actually be real, but also from the resumed fight of not letting the tears come out. Determined to be strong to show that she was holding up just fine, when, in truth, she wasn't. And when she finally parted ways with everyone, opting to skip the free meal of casserole after casserole, Sam headed back to her now empty apartment aside from Scout. An apartment that was eerily quiet without her best friend playing video games or yelling at her to change the song on the record player, because he was too lazy to do it.

And as she unzipped zippers and undid buttons to escape from the grip of her designated funeral clothes, with each piece dropping to the floor, Sam found herself being able to breathe a little easier, until she couldn't shed anymore clothing. But it took everything within her to put on an oversized t-shirt and some shorts, and to find her way to the couch, "Scout. Come here boy."

With the dog now at her side, Sam pulled down a blanket from the back, but with the wisp of air a familiar scent caught Sam off guard along with the glimpse of the t-shirt she had put on, and between the two and having no more strength left in her, tears began pouring fiercely from her eyes. What had now started, wouldn't stop. All Sam could do was lay on the couch and sob harder than she had since the night of the murder, and as she curled in close to Scout and pulled the blanket up near her neck, the woman let out what she was afraid to show earlier in the day finally realizing that Zach wasn't coming home. That it was really just her now and trying to figure out life on her own.

[science-lings]

Intro to my Phoenix!Phoenix AU

One thing I love about 'Phoenix being an actual Phoenix' AU's is that everyone can kind of put their own spin on it, maybe he has feathers and can talk to birds or is immune to fire, but because making a humanoid character into a mythical reincarnating bird is already deviating from every type of lore out there, you can just do whatever you want with it, which is my favorite thing to do.

The most important part of my particular Phoenix AU is his blood. In this au, his blood is what bursts into flames when he dies or is jumpstarted by an outside source of fire. It glows like molten metal to heal wounds and can even be transferred to another host to give them a bit of a magical healing boost in extreme situations.

continue on if you want to see the full informative essay lmao

He can set his blood on fire to jumpstart his own rebirth to skip the whole 'dying' thing, but that comes with its own consequences. It leaves him extremely weak and feverish for days afterward. In this AU he did take Dahlia's poison pills, and he ate the necklace, though because he almost died too recently, he still gets scars from the glass and the subsequent surgeries, he just wasn't strong enough to heal completely. It's why he gets away from eagle river with just a cold, he caught some of the debris of the flaming bridge and that ultimately saved him during the impact. Or at least kept him from having to fully die.

The fire fueled by phoenix blood is an unnatural blue and gets so hot that it melts metal and sets things around it aflame really easily. It extinguishes itself once Phoenix is healed but leaves behind scorch marks (both anywhere it touched and on Phoenix's body) and the normal fire that spawns from it needs to be dealt with more normally. Being reborn won't completely burn his suit off, but will leave ashy black marks in the places he was injured. idk how to logic that one out, I just think he deserves the mercy of not having to wake up from dying to be naked on top of everything else.

Phoenix can change forms, but as he wants to keep his mythical status a bit of a secret, he rarely does so and isn't good enough at transforming to do it during more urgent situations. His fear of heights also makes him less inclined to go birdmode. It's only after his disbarment that he becomes more comfortable testing out his own abilities and even joins Trucy in her magic shows as a flaming bird assistant. When he wants to watch his junior partners' trials, he occasionally attends in birdmode and hangs out in the courthouse windows. Sometimes he will swoop down to defend his kids from Taka as he has a bit of a grudge against the bird. He appears like Mia in times when hope is lost to scream a little, because he is a bird. (Trucy and her bird dad art)

Physical indicators of his true nature can mostly be hidden by his clothes, he has patches of small iridescent black/blue/indigo feathers like soft scales on his forearms, shoulders, back, hips, and lower legs. His hair is not quite made up of feathers but kind of supplemented by more featherlike bits of hair that only become obvious when touching it. He still has plausible deniability about his weird hair. His nails are naturally matte black and his eyelashes are long and dark enough to be noticeable but not too unusual.

Pre-Trucy he's trying his best to hide this part of himself but he gets more relaxed about it during his disbarment. when before he would refuse to roll his sleeves up even on the hottest of days, he gets more open about it with her. By the time he gets reinstated, his secret is kind of out so he sees no reason to try so hard to hide it.

One thing I'm still mulling over is how his immortality works. Either he can be good at being able to revive himself before he fully dies which causes him to reincarnate/regenerate into a new baby form with no/few memories of his life before or he could die, but only fully reincarnate every hundred or so years. This is all to say that I want his previous form to be Ryuunosuke. There are just core pieces of his personality that continue on, like being gay for his best friend and becoming a lawyer for him, and also his weird hair and big puppy eyes.

Also with all the talk about blood, I think a spinoff AU with Edgeworth being a vampire would just be fun. But I don't know how phoenix blood would affect a vampire... like would it reverse the vampirism? Would it partially reverse it? would it reverse the undead part but keep some of the silly vampire features? I haven't decided yet but it sounds funky to consider.

now to figure out what to call it... maybe Blood of the Phoenix (BotP AU), idk I'm taking suggestions now lmao

[fizzing-imagines]

Hellfire After Hours BAD END | Billy Hargrove x Plus Size! Alt! Reader

Note: I hope y'all eat angst for breakfast as much as I do. This is somewhat of a pt. 2 for Hellfire After hours, part one can be found here . Enjoy!!

Warnings: Mention of death, description of grieving

Word Count: 250-ish

You've felt numb when the police officer told you that Billy passed on the scene. You felt numb during his funeral, while cleaning out his room, while organising his things in your room. Every night, you prayed for him to come back, hoping he'd climb through your window like he did almost every day. And even though you weren't religious, you prayed to the lord above for Billy's return. It wasn't until Gareth made you sit down and talk with him that you bursted out into tears, crying, screaming, begging for Billy to come back. Your friend held you through it all, being there for every time you let your sadness out. Then, you got angry and screamed at everyone who even looked at you in the wrong direction. Eddie let you skip D&D for a while, even though it went against the rules of Hellfire, after you angrily stormed out when your sorcerer was hit during a campaign. Once you got over your anger, you started blaming yourself. You should've been there, help him, be there for him. He died on a cold floor, covered in his own blood and probably scared. If it weren't for your stupid anger you felt for him at that time, he would've been safe. At least that's what you told yourself. But you didn't have these thoughts for too long, because you locked yourself in your room and slept through the day. You stopped eating, stopped going to school, stopped meeting your friends. And you stayed in that state for weeks until Hellfire knocked down your door and made you join them for D&D. Slowly, you got your social life back, you went back to school, back to Hellfire and visited Billy at least once a week. You were with Max when you went to his grave for the first time since the funeral, and in some weird way it made you bond with her.

You were there for the group when Vecna came back, and you helped stabilise Eddie until he was able to be brought to the hospital. At least you could save him.

Shortly after, you graduated and found a job as a barkeeper at The Hideout. That way, you stayed close to your friends and saw them weekly. Even though you still loved Billy, and always would, you started dating Gareth a year after you graduated. It's how everyone always expected it to be, and you were happy and loved in some way. He was a great boyfriend, always caring and sweet to you, treated your heart carefully and was sensible. Gareth treated you how you deserve to be treated, so it was only fair to him for you to come clean. It wasn't that you didn't love Gareth, but you would always love Billy and that's what you told him. You didn't tell him that the love you felt for Billy was different than the love you felt for him, but because you couldn't pinpoint it you didn't say it. It was fine with him, he was understanding and your relationship went on. Eventually, you got married and had three kids together; a girl named Ozzy and two boys named Cliff and William.

[taizi]

coming right on back for you

part 5 of 5

rise of the tmnt x tmnt 2k12 pairing: leo & mikey, leo & everyone word count: 4634 title borrowed from hurricane by lord huron post-movie

(previous) 

read on ao3

x

According to Blue, the Hidden City, and every little place attached to it, is a pocket realm. If all of the universes in this dimension were highways running parallel to one another, he explained unremarkably, to Donnie’s mounting incredulity, then the Hidden City would be a secret subway system tucked neatly underneath with about a billion lines in and out and crazy good Wi-Fi.

“That’s what Dontron says, anyway,” Blue adds. “I can at least vouch for the Wi-Fi.”

Apparently he and his brothers spent an afternoon testing this hypothesis with some of their local yokai friends.

“Dad said we weren’t allowed to go through the portals, because he’s boring and allergic to fun, but Sunita and Usagi did the smart thing and skipped getting permission from their parents in the first place,” Blue is chattering, his energy picking up with every step closer they get to whatever random corner of Manhattan he’s leading them to. “Mikey was like ‘wait, what if you get trapped in a world full of giant man-eating coconut crabs?’ which was oddly specific, and then Usagi was like ‘then I’ll have an excuse not to go to work tomorrow,’ and I think he was only like eighty-percent joking.”

“Right,” Raph says, definitely not following.

“Usagi Miyamoto?” Leo asks. A lifetime of indulging Mikey and Donnie’s longwinded rants about comic books and copolymers has prepared him for this. He’s not even struggling to keep up with Blue. “The samurai?”

“Uhh, no? Didn’t he live like a thousand years ago?” Blue turns on his heel to walk backwards so he can give Leo a judgmental look. “Usagi Yuichi. Miyamoto’s his ancestor and personal hero, though, so unless you want to hear the entire two-hour historical biography, please don’t say his name again within a two mile radius of the Hidden City. Sagi has ears like a hawk.”

Mikey can’t help smiling to himself as they hop from one rooftop to the next. Little Blue is like a different person out here. The lair really must have felt like a box he was trapped in, and now that he’s out and actually moving, now that he’s got a plan of action and he’s seeing it through, he’s able to shake off some of that stress and anxiety, or at least outrun it. He’s able to breathe.

There was a period of time when the lair felt like a box to Mikey, too. Or a tomb. When sensei died, everything that made it feel safe and warm and inviting died with him. The dojo, and Splinter’s rooms beyond it, were like an undisturbed shrine. All the tunnels and pipes seemed empty and cavernous. The silence was like a disease, creeping around infecting everything.

Mikey’s brothers started spending more and more time away. Mikey hated being there alone, so he stayed away, too. He practically moved into Woody’s apartment for almost a full calendar year. Sometimes he didn’t see his siblings for weeks at a time. He didn’t really know how to be on their team anymore. It’s no wonder he almost died on that mission none of them will talk about.

Blue stops on a ledge so abruptly that Raph collides with him, almost sending them both over the side. It’s only a quick grab on Donnie’s part that spares them a fall.

“We’re here,” Blue says cheerfully, seemingly unbothered by the holes Raph is drilling into the back of his head with his glower.

‘Here’ is an empty alleyway with absolutely nothing of note. Little Blue jumps eagerly down the fire escape to street level, undeterred. With buzzing streetlights nearby and enough light pollution from the city at large that the night sky is more gray than black, the open alley is not as secure as Blue seems to think it is. Anyone could glance out a window and spot him.

Mikey looks sidelong at his brothers, who each meet his worried expression with something amused and tolerant on their faces. Leo kills the lights with a few well-aimed throwing stars and Donnie sets free a tiny drone that will secure a tight perimeter.

“No fun being on this end, huh, chuckles?” Raph says, rubbing the top of Mikey’s head with his knuckles. “Little brothers do whatever they want, older brothers clean up the mess.”

“Ooh, ambiance,” is all Blue says about the added darkness and the faint violet glow from the drone. “I think I can open the door, but I need a boost. Maxi-Me?”

Leo sighs, but he steps forward and presses his hands flat to the kid’s carapace anyway. Mikey can sense Leo’s qi surging and cresting, meeting with Blue’s and mingling easily, like two old friends.

Those distinct markings on Blue’s body flash once, and in the dark it’s as vivid as neon lights. He draws his katana from the borrowed hilt strapped to his shell and slashes down through empty air.

A bright portal opens up, charged and electrified and spitting sparks playfully at the edges. Blue pokes his head through it immediately—all of Mikey’s brothers react to this, not just him, thank you very much—but when Raph seizes the kid’s arm and hauls him out, Blue is grinning.

“Mr Hammond, I think we’re back in business!”

“Uh-huh,” Raph says, still holding onto his arm, because the kid is visibly swaying on his feet and Raph might be the only thing keeping him upright at the moment. “Nice light show. Hypothetically, would you be a little brat about one of us carrying you the rest of the way or nah?”

“I’ve never once in my life been a brat about anything,” Blue replies gravely.

So, feeling a sense of déjà vu, Mikey helps get the kid on Raph’s back. He keeps his casted arm tucked safely between his plastron and Raph’s carapace and then swings his sword into the air like he’s leading a cavalry charge.

“Onwards and upwards, brethren! Excelsior!”

Leo reaches over and takes the sword out of his hand.

Donnie recalls his drone with a soft whistle and Mikey lingers behind so they can go through the portal together. His purple-banded brother smiles at him automatically, and doesn’t miss a beat in stringing a long arm around Mikey’s shoulders.

“Ready for whatever’s in there?” he asks.

“After Dimension X and actual outer space?” Mikey says, elbowing him in the side. “How weird could it be?”

The answer turns out to be pretty weird.

They step through the portal into what looks like a normal restaurant. In one breath, Mikey can smell fresh dough, garlic, pepperoni—it smells exactly like Rupert’s. It could have been any other upscale pizzeria in New York City, except for the fact that there isn’t a single human being to be seen.

There are insect wings, reptilian eyes, furry faces, feathered ears, tails and snouts and scales, and not a sense of uniformity about any of it. One cute little blob-shaped person is dressed in a full suit and tie, and a handful of customers with bird heads are wearing traditional kimono.

“I thought you guys were New Yorkers,” Blue says, looking sidelong at them like they’re relatives he’s embarrassed to be seen with. “Try to look a little less like tourists or we’ll get robbed blind.”

If there was any one way to snap a Manhattan native out of a stupor, that was definitely it.

“Where to?” Raph asks impatiently, like he totally wasn’t ogling the place a second ago.

The question is answered for them, by the sudden, disbelieving voice that demands, “Pepino?”

Blue’s face lights up as an angry-looking skeleton comes charging over from the other side of the dining room. He squirms until Raph rolls his eyes and lets him hop down, and then spreads both his whole and broken arm out grandly.

“Boneman! It’s so good to see you! Business looks booming, so I take it the world didn’t end, that’s great! Can I borrow your phone?”

The angry-looking skeleton only appears more incensed by the second. He grabs the kid by the shoulder and gives him a solid shake, just hard enough to rattle him but not enough to hurt, and starts in on a livid Spanish tirade that sounds like it would flay the skin off of Blue’s bones if he actually understood more than every third word of it.

“Hey—uh, hey, Señor Hueso, I know my two-hundred-and-fifteen day streak on Duolingo is extremely impressive, but you’re going to have to slow down for me a little, amigo.”

“You will sit,” Señor Hueso snaps, pointing him to a nearby booth in a threatening manner, “and you will not move or I will curse you to the chair.”

“Um, sure, but I really need your phone,” Blue replies, not sitting. His smile is fixed, but all his manic energy is finally draining away, leaving behind a homesick kid who is very very close to the finish line of a painful sprint. “I need to—my brothers are—”

“Your brothers are tearing the city apart as we speak, yes,” the skeleton replies shortly. “No one has known peace since you disappeared. Big Mama left the state indefinitely and I had half a mind to close shop and follow her example.”

He sounds testy and fed-up, but his eye sockets don’t stray from the kid for more than a second or two at a time. When he points at the booth again, Little Blue sinks into it like his legs have turned to jelly.

Mikey sits next to him, because Blue’s expression is doing something it hurts to watch.

“I will call them,” Señor Hueso says firmly. On his way toward the back of house, he gives the older turtles a passing, cursory glance, and nothing more. For once, Mikey and his brothers aren’t the oddest thing in the room.

“What’s all this, huh?” Donnie asks, teasing gently, because Blue is starting to get a little teary as he stares restlessly at the front door.

“Oh, uh—” He rubs his eyes with his good hand, his smile a wobbly, weak-kneed thing. “Uhh, I just realized I haven’t had my phone on me for the past couple days, so I definitely broke my streak. That’s all.”

“Sure,” Leo says generously, and they leave it alone.

A server in a neat uniform comes by with a tray of glasses, one of which she puts directly in Blue’s hand. She seems willing to stand there staring at him with all seven of her eyes until he drinks it, so he takes a drink.

Mikey gets the sense that Blue is a familiar face around here, and that his presence was definitely missed, even if no one seems willing to give him the satisfaction of admitting it where he can actually hear them.

When the front door flies open hard enough that it literally comes off its hinges and damages a wall, Blue is already scrambling to his feet.

He barely makes it around the table in time to catch the blur of orange and green that hurtles into him at full speed. Mikey is suddenly looking at a very young version of himself, all soft round edges and colorful paint-splotch markings, clinging to Blue like he’s the last solid thing in the world to hold onto.

It would be cute, if his Mini-Me wasn’t sobbing his little heart out. A beat later, a third turtle with an armored shell and a purple mask slams into them both.

“Hey,” Blue says, alarmed, “Angie, it’s okay, come on. You gotta breathe, kiddo.” His hands, rubbing Angie’s shuddering carapace, move to his shoulders, attempting to peel him away so Blue can look at him properly, but Angie only makes a hurt sound and presses closer, burying his beak in the crook of Blue’s neck and shoulder. “Mikey—Tello, what—?”

Mikey and his brothers move back to give them space. Raph glares at the only occupied table on this side of the dining room until they take the hint, pick up their plates, and relocate. Then they do their ninja thing, fading into the periphery without moving a muscle.

“You guys need to talk to me,” Blue is saying, his anxiety level visibly climbing with every second his siblings cling to him and cry. “Is Raph okay? Did something—”

“We thought you were dead, you idiot,” Tello cuts him off harshly, muffled since he refuses to lift his face out of Blue’s shoulder. “It’s been days, Nardo. We thought—”

“And it was my fault,” Angie blurts, his voice warbling and miserable. The words come spilling out too fast, all on top of each other. “I opened the portal to bring you back but that monster grabbed you. I c-couldn’t let him out but I couldn’t leave you behind so I thought I could make the portal go in two directions at once. It was supposed to take you someplace safe and spit him back out into the prison dimension but I did it wrong.” His breath hitches, and he can barely speak at all for how hard he’s crying. “We couldn’t find you. We looked everywhere, Leo, I swear, we—we looked everywhere. Raphie and Donnie didn’t want me to use my mystic hands again because it hurt but I tried anyway. I really—really tried. But I couldn’t find you. You were gone and it was all my fault.”

Mikey can’t see Blue’s expression, given that he’s sandwiched fully between his brothers, but he can see it when the iron shoots through his spine, when the leader inside him steps forward and everything else falls behind.

He works himself free of Angie’s octopus-armed hug, just enough that he can frame the smaller turtle’s face with his good hand. It’s tricky business, because now Tello stubbornly refuses to be budged, but Blue gets there after a minute.

“Angelo, you did send me somewhere safe. You dropped me right in front of a guy with crazy Jedi healing powers! I was exactly where I needed to be. They took care of me, see?” He wiggles his pink arm cast for emphasis. “And that portal? Incredible. Puts every single one of mine to absolute shame. I’m so beyond proud of you.”

Mikey watches Angie’s eyes well right up again, and the little guy wails, “I missed you so much! I love you, you’re my only Leo, please don’t ever go away again!”

“You don’t have to butter me up, Michael, I’m already gonna let you draw on my cast,” Blue jokes, or tries to, because his voice breaks and gives him away.

“Swear it,” Tello says venomously. His tone is cutting and the whole of him looks like he’s on the cusp of committing an act of violence if he doesn’t get what he wants in the next couple of seconds. “Or I’ll fry every microprocessor you come into contact with from now until 2055. On god, Leon—smartphones, gaming consoles, the microwave—”

“I swear! I swear, okay? No getting rid of me!” Blue plants his cheek on the top of Angie’s head, pats whatever part of Tello he can reach around his armful of little brother. “I mean, tossing me into another universe wasn’t enough, so nothing ever could be, right? We’re stuck with each other. Promise.”

Mikey lifts a hand to feel the scar on his arm.

He doesn’t really remember how he got it, and asking about it always made his brothers look so grim and full of grief that Mikey quickly learned to stop asking. But he thinks of it, secretly, only inside the safety of his head, as a good thing. It gave them all a reason to come back home.

The day that Mikey was officially discharged from the infirmary for good, his arm wrapped up meticulously from elbow to wrist to protect the stitches, Donnie led him into the living room, where Leo, Raph, April and Casey were waiting in the pit. It looked like they’d cleared out the inventory of a local Home Depot. April was brandishing a yardstick at Raph as if it was a weapon every bit as dangerous as her precious, deadly tessen. Mikey looked around at all the paints and rollers, trays and liners, the heavy-duty canvas aprons his siblings were wearing like ninja armor, and wondered if this was another one of his weird fever-dreams.

“Well?” Casey snapped, shoving a handful of swatches at him. “We’re starting in the kitchen, so pick a stupid yellow already.”

“I think I missed a meeting,” Mikey said helplessly.

“April’s idea,” Leo told him. His eyes looked dark and tired and older than they had any right to be, but they were looking right at Mikey. It had been ages since he looked right at Mikey, all of his formidable attention turned into a warm, kind thing, like a well-loved blanket. “We’re making it ours. Taking it back from the ghosts.”

It took a long time but they reclaimed their home day by day, room by room. It got easier as they went. They got better at it. Paint went on walls more evenly, conversation graduated from polite and restrained to comfortable and familiar. Mikey’s yellow kitchen is still his pride and joy. They always eat dinner together there.

Even the most painful parts of his life were ultimately good things. Mikey knows he has an appreciation for the lair now that he didn’t have when he was growing up. As a child, it was his sprawling playground, it was the place he ran to at the end of the day, and it was a given. He took it for granted, up until it was almost gone forever. He doesn’t take it for granted anymore.

Looking at Blue and his siblings now, Mikey realizes for the first time that his philosophy is not transferable.

He never wants Blue or Angie or Tello to learn the lessons Mikey had to at their age. He wants these boys to take home for granted forever. Kids should get to do that. They shouldn’t have to second-guess it. They can appreciate what they have just fine without being terrified of losing it.

When the Raphael of this dimension shows up, it’s immediately apparent why Little Blue was so bewildered by Mikey’s Raph from the jump. This kid is huge, closer to Slash in size than any of Mikey’s brothers. He freezes in the broken doorway, taking in the tableau for a moment, chest heaving. He must have run the whole way here from wherever he was when he got the call.

There’s so much in his face that it’s impossible for Mikey to pick it all apart. His arms are big enough to hold all three of his brothers at once, and that’s exactly what he does when he gets to them.

“Hi, Bossman,” Blue whispers.

“I’m mad at you,” he announces succinctly, in a voice all thick and wet with tears. “You’re grounded forever. Pops will back me up. You’re about to live a very boring life for a very long time.”

“Sorry,” Blue replies easily enough, and then his breath catches, and then he’s bawling. It was a long time coming. Mikey’s been waiting for this to happen since that first time the kid woke up in their infirmary, half out of his mind with fear and pain.

Tello and Angie extract themselves so Blue can throw both his arms as far around his red-masked brother as they’ll go. If the broken one hurts at all, he doesn’t show it. And the bigger turtle, for all that he’s physically imposing and wildly intimidating upon first glance, seems to have the heart and soul of a teddy bear. His face crumples and he scoops Blue clean off his feet, hugging him like it’s an Olympic sport and he’s going for gold.

“Sorry, Raphie,” Blue chokes out. “I’m so sorry. I made everything so hard for you and I was such an asshole and I almost got you killed.”

“First of all, watch your mouth,” the bigger turtle says—which honestly blows Mikey’s mind more than anything else that’s happened in the last three days combined. “Second of all—Leo, you’re sixteen and you’re my little brother. It’s your legal right to make my life difficult. You think Donnie hasn’t made me want to change my name and flee the country? More than once? And we both know Mikey is a feral child only pretending to understand societal norms fifty percent of the time.”

That coaxes a weak laugh out of Blue, and all of his siblings brighten a little to hear it.

“You didn’t almost get me killed,” Big Red goes on. “It was your choice to try to fix your mistake, and it was my choice to protect you. Those were good choices. Let’s blame everything else on the ones whose fault it actually was and forget about it. Okay?”

“Okay,” Blue mumbles, sounding maybe halfway convinced.

“Back on the ship, I remember you saying that being the leader was scary,” Red adds, a little more gently. “I wasn’t really myself at the time, and then a million other things happened, so I didn’t get to tell you—but I never meant to make you feel like leading the team was something you were going to have to do alone. I’m always going to be here to help. We can do it together. Anata wa hitori janai. You don’t have to be scared.”

“Don’t be scared, Michael.”

Little Blue is a good big brother, and it’s immediately obvious exactly who he learned his moves from. The evidence in front of him warms Mikey all the way down to his bones.

“Tell him the other thing,” Angie pipes up abruptly.

“I’m recording so if he denies acknowledging it later we’ll have him for self-perjury,” Tello adds. Mikey doesn’t see a camera anywhere, but somehow he doesn’t doubt that the armored turtle has one.

“Right.” Big Red sets Blue back on his feet, puts his giant hands on Blue’s slim shoulders, dwarfing them completely, and regards him with open warmth and affection for a moment. Then he says, “If you ever try to die for us again, I will kill you myself.”

“Extenuating circumstances,” Blue says weakly, wilting under the combined weight of three glares.

“Not applicable,” Tello snaps.

“And if you think Pops, April and Casey Jr don’t also have some very strongly-worded opinions about it, boy are you in for a fun surprise,” Red goes on. “There’s going to be a PowerPoint presentation.”

“You hated it when Raph saved you that way, Leon,” Angie says firmly, amber eyes level and clear now that he’s cried himself out. He’s a tough kid. Even with his face all messy from recent tears, Mikey’s Mini-Me looks ready to tear down a mountain with his bare hands to prove his point. “We hated it, too. Find another way next time.”

Next to Mikey, Raph huffs a sardonic-sounding laugh. It’s quiet and doesn’t carry farther than his own brothers when he mutters, “Try asking him to catch the moon in a cup next. He’d probably get that done faster.”

Leo gives him a dry look. “I don’t think you’re one to talk.”

“I don’t think any of us are,” Donnie puts in, not without a sort of good humor. His eyes move to Mikey, down to the scar on his arm that his siblings all hate to think about, and he says, “We wouldn’t know how to put ourselves before each other if the fate of the world depended on it.”

Mikey says, “I don’t think that’s a bad thing. Better than the alternative.”

Raph slings an arm around the top of Mikey’s carapace, as easily as if those rough, polarizing years between sixteen and eighteen never happened. “We’re adults, so we can do what we want,” he says, smiling crookedly. “Blue’s a baby, so his acts of heroism are only good for getting himself grounded, looks like.”

“He’s better off,” Leo says, coaxed into a half-smile of his own. “Maybe he’ll learn from it.”

“Considering he can, apparently, both summon his swords out of thin-air and create portals with them, I’m not sure how effective grounding will be in this universe,” Donnie replies wryly. “It barely did anything to you and you very much couldn’t teleport, Leo. It’s good of his siblings to try, though.”

“Well, as stimulating as this conversation is, the peanut gallery behind us just reminded me of something, soooo—sidebar!” Blue says loudly. “Doesn’t anyone want to know what I’ve been up to these last couple days? You’ll never guess where Mikey stuck me for safe-keeping. Go on, guess.”

Angie looks disgruntled, and Tello looks downright mutinous. Red blows out a huge sigh, but he seems more reluctantly fond than anything else. “We’ll work on it,” he says as an aside to the other two. Blue takes this as an acquiescence and sprints with it.

“I was with our cousins!” he announces brightly, sweeping his good arm in the direction of Mikey and his brothers. “Turns out Donnie was right about alternates. That corkboard wasn’t the waste of space I always claimed it was. You win this round, twinnie.”

Mikey takes that as his cue to shake off the perception-bending trick and move forward into the kids’ collective awareness again. Immediately, Angie is staring up at him with wide brown eyes, and Mikey feels his heart do something soft.

“Alternates?” Tello demands, looking like Christmas came early just for him specifically.

“Cousins?” Mikey says to Blue, raising a brow at him.

“What of it,” Blue says with a jut of his chin that Mikey clocks as Leonardo at his absolute most stubborn. “I had a dream about Gram-gram and she said just ‘cause you’re not my brothers doesn’t mean you’re not my family. Sounds right to me. So—cousins.”

“We’ve never had cousins before!” Big Red says enthusiastically, looking at Raph like he’s the coolest thing on this side of the hemisphere. An hour ago, Mikey would never have believed the word ‘adorable’ could apply to any version of his hot-headed brother, but he has since been proven completely wrong. “Welcome to the family! You have to meet everyone before you leave! And I really mean that, April will literally never forgive us if you don’t.”

“She’ll hold it against us forever!” Angie says cheerfully. “She’s the best.”

Leo steps forward and puts out his hand. “Nice to meet you,” he says politely. “I’m Donatello.”

Big Red, who had been about to eagerly shake his hand, freezes mid-step and stares at him. Angie’s mouth drops open, and Tello develops a twitch in his eye.

It’s impossible to argue with Leo’s calm, implacable expression. The kids don’t know him well enough to know that this is an act he perfected by lying right to Splinter’s face about why he and his brothers broke curfew, or went above ground when they weren’t supposed to, or absolutely destroyed the den for the second time in a week. He’d only ever let himself be less than perfect to keep his siblings out of trouble.

Mikey thinks Splinter could usually tell, but sometimes he’d let Leo have the lie anyway, his dark eyes warm with laughter that his face never gave away.

Leo at his most mischievous is a carbon-copy of their father. It’s the only ghost he keeps.

There’s a length of silence so absolute that Mikey thinks he forgets what sound even sounds like for a second. Behind him, he can sense his brothers’ amusement, none of them willing to break rank and give the game away.  

Little Blue recovers first. He throws his head back and laughs, loud and delighted in a way that fills the room.

Mikey looks back at Leonardo in time to see him smile at the sound.