#because one thought splinters out in several directions

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Clog! (Crack)

Bayverse!Turtles x reader (Platonic)

In which the turtles and you want to show Leo how much time he actually spends meditating and training in one day, so you put together a performance.

Song: Oct! - Don’t Touch My Clogs.

Warnings: Strange music from a banger song, spelling because tired.

—------------------------------------------------

You guys had told him, and you had done so several times, but he still wouldn’t listen. Leonardo spent too much time training. When Master Splinter had told him it was becoming a little too excessive. But Leo wouldn’t listen. He would just brush your comments off before heading back into the dojo. And after one day where he skipped all meals except breakfast, and didn’t come out before the rest of you guys were about to go to sleep, you had decided it was enough. It was time to go into extremes, and show Leo exactly how much time he was spending in the dojo. So the next day, after Leo had finished breakfast and gone into the dojo, you, Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo started practicing. If you guys could put on a five star performance in one day, he was definitely spending too much time in there.

After several hours, Leo finally came out of the dojo. He was sweating more than he had ever done before, and his limbs were aching. But all that was forgotten when he saw Michelangelo, standing in the middle of the lair on the raised circle with his arms crossed and sunglasses on.

Before Leo could ask what was going, music started playing, jolting Leo in shock, as Mikey started moving his shoulders and lip syncing to the song playing.

“Years before I was born, father told this to me / It was one Christmas morning in '73 / There was one lonely gift nestled under the tree / My grandfather said, Don't touch my-".

Leo stared in confusion as Mikey gradually got into the music, pointing in Leo’s direction with a sense of urgency.

“He said, Boy, listen close, I am saying this once / These were worn by my parents and their parent's parents / Now they're yours, but be sure to guard them with your life. / He said, Don't ever let them touch my clogs!"

Just as Leo was about to ask Mikey what he was doing, the chorus started up, causing Donnie to jump out of nowhere and making Leo jump in surprise once more. Leo blinked as he saw his two youngest brothers dance out a well choreographed dance on the raised circle, while both wearing sunglasses.

“You can take my cash, you can burn my house! / You could force feed trash / I'd let you kick my balls whilе I chewed on glass / Beforе I even thought about letting someone touch my clogs!”

Leo shook his head in surprise at the lyrics.

“You'll have to take my life, you'll have to steal my dog! / Have to beat my wife / You'll have to kill my mom with a rusty knife / You'll have to break my legs before I ever let you touch my clogs!”

Both Donnie and Mikey started circling while staring directly at Leo, causing his metaphorical hair to stand.

“Don't touch my / C-L-O-G-S / They're my clogs! / Whoa, oh!”

As the second verse began, Raphael jumped up on the circle, causing both Donnie and Mikey to crouch and look at him like he was a god. Leo was actually quite surprised to see Raph was in on this.

“Father said: You're my son, so I'll tell you the truth / I wore clogs without socks for the bulk of my youth / Now these clogs, they are yours, protect them with your life / I pray you never let them touch your clogs!"

And just as Leo thought it couldn’t get any stranger, you jumped in from out of nowhere, taking up the second chorus with animated arm movements, all while his brothers circled you.

“You can slap my wrist, I'd let you shave my head! / Let you wax my pits / I'd even butt-chug bleach while you twist my nips / And after all of that I still wouldn't let you touch my clogs!”

Raph lifted you up on his shoulder, while Mikey and Donnie continued to circle the two of you with their arms up in the air, continuing a more advanced version of their choreography.

“You can eat my lunch and you can knock me out / With a 1-inch punch / And make me drink your sweat from a dirty sponge / You'd have to shoot me dead before I ever let you touch my clogs”.

Raph threw you up into the air, and started an air choreography that Leo was pretty sure took a long time to put together. Everything started picking up speed, and Leo was surprised to see how well it actually was going.

“Is my purpose in life to keep them safe until my child is at least 25 / Then I will pass the clogs to them and they'll wear them with pride / And every single day from then, they'll make sure no one has touched their clogs! / They're the one thing I love, the only thing that makes me sure there's a god up above / Those wooden clogs on my feet, and they fit like a glove / And I would give up everything 'fore I ever let you touch my-”.

Raph slowly placed you back down on the ground.

“Clogs / C-L-O-G-S”.

All of you moved your attention towards the door into Splinter’s room. Leo was more than just a little surprised to see his Sensei come out with a pair of clogs held high in his hands, ever so slowly moving towards the rest of you, who were acting as if he was carrying Jesus as a child.

“Now I lay me down to sleep / I pray the Lord my clogs to keep / If I should die before I wake / I pray the Lord my clogs to die”.

Splinter now stood in the middle of the raised circle, holding the clogs high above his head, while the rest of you were circling him in the ground beneath him, continuing your complicated choreography that only continued to surprise Leo.

“You can take my cash / You could force feed trash / I'd let you kick my balls while I chewed on glass / Before I even thought about letting someone touch my clogs”.

They took turns spinning you and holding you high up in the air, all while Splinter continued to hold the clogs high in the air.

“You'll have to take my life, you'll have to steal my dog / Have to beat my wife / You'll have to kill my mom with a rusty knife / You'll have to break my legs before I ever let you touch my-”.

It ended with all of you posing in various ways, all with your attention directed towards the clogs in Master Splinter’s hands.

Leo honestly didn’t knew if he should clap or run and hide in his room. But one thing was sure, he wouldn’t stay in the dojo for half as long as he had done before.

—-------------------------------------------

A/N: This is so bad, but I’ve had this idea stuck in my head for days. I just needed it out of my system.

[generic-whumperz]

Intentions 

Summary: Approximately two weeks into his imprisonment in the basement, The Aid has a flashback of the day that changed his life forever. (Backstory. Milder chapter.)

General content warnings here, rest in tags

Masterlist | Backstory | A03

The only upside to being bone-exhausted from starvation and getting his ass ground into a pulp is that The Aid spends most of the time passed out. Better to not be burdened with the plight of conscious thought, he reasons.

Besides, nothing beats a depression nap. Given the circumstances, it’s decent sleep, or at least as decent as he could ever hope for. Just ignore the pounding migraine, partially severed ankle, grumbling belly, and broken body pulsing with compounding jolts of pain and disassociate—easy-peasy, lemon squeezy.

When awake (a travesty), his brain feels like microwaved instant mashed potatoes. That’s the best comparison he’s thought of in this muddled state; he’s contemplated it for hours. All starch, no real substance. And what do you know, both pasty white and activated by water. 

He’s etched marks on the concrete basement wall above his head with a small chip of cement, faint, illegible lines he can’t see in the dark, to count the number of days he’s been down here. Fingers run the length of the make-shift day tracker. Whatever number it is, he knows it’s not accurate. He’s sure he lost a day or two from being strung up in some hellish stress position only the Devil himself would think of from the ceiling—or tied to the old wooden blood-stained chair that’s given him a dozen splinters—but at least it’s an estimate. 

He thinks he counts 15. Counts again. Comes up with 17. Again. 14. 

So this is what losing your mind feels like.

Mix-matched numbers are the least of his worries, but at least that’s tangible. Something he knows is actually there, a tether to the physical world.

The glowing white eyes spying on him in the dark are more frequent now. The creature he tells himself isn’t real lingers in the rings of pitch-black shadows. It waits. Feeds on him when he’s sleeping. That’s an opportune moment for both of them, the only time they equally enjoy. He wishes he was unconscious right now, but a rapid heart rate and feverish sweating make that impossible. 

His body reflexively stiffens against the throbbing pulse radiating from the near-perfect hole in his mid-thigh. Leg muscles convulse, unleashing a searing, hot wave of pain that spiders out from the gash like molten lava, bathing his entire leg in a fiery agony.

He groans, letting the tears fall freely. Teeth clamp shut. He rolls around on the rotten-smelling mattress stained in every shade of bodily fluid, trying to partially distract himself and partially take a walk-it-out-approach—move against the pain. 

That makes it worse. 

Hands clench into fists. 

He screams. 

Static. 

He imagines the floating particles as something wonderful, something childish and playful like magical fairy dust. His eyes follow the proverbial yellow brick road and roll over to the old wooden workbench, hoping to find the entrance to the Emerald City. A streak of soft sunlight from the single basement window illuminates part of the wood. Blinking, he tries to focus blurry vision from poor eyesight—eyes adjust as much as they can without his glasses Wyatt tells him was a privilege—not a right—to have. One he no longer deserves. 

Something shines against the direct light like a bright star on a calm, cloudless night. He misses the sky. The Sun. moon. Stars. 

Could it be—did he really make it? 

He squints. Focus. 

It’s the metal of the drill bit the sadistic man used on him yesterday, reflecting a sparkle of light—chunks of his leg still lodged in the threading.

He gasps and jerks away. Stares at the desolate wall—at nothing, because nothing is better than a bad-something. Chest heaving, he coughs like he’s going to vomit, but there’s nothing but bile that comes up. He erupts in a fit of wailing until he makes himself sick, and his eyelids swell shut.   

Drifting. Barely lucid. 

Regret creeps into the cracks of subconscious. 

Was it worth it? 

He’s thought long and hard about that, too. A meager week-and-a-half of “freedom” only to be snatched up by border patrol and hauled back to his torturer. 

No, not that—all of this. Selling himself, giving up what little was left of his human rights, getting hauled off to the other side of the country to live amongst wealthy slavers and transform into some fucking wind-up cymbal-banging monkey toy. 

At first, it was a resounding “yes” without a shadow of a doubt. 

Now? He’s not so sure. 

Long are the days of luxurious pool parties with tasty appetizers, fruity drinks, weekend coastal getaways, and living la vida loca while pretending that people aren’t dying in droves from starvation, war, and disease—out of sight, out of mind, right? 

He reminisces the time when his biggest adversary wasn’t a raging psychopath with a hard-on for blood, but were the sly, risqué glances and wondering manicured hands of his late Madame’s granddaughter he had playfully fended off under the distracted noses of every Sullivan family member who were none the wiser of their scandalous—albeit one-sided—encounters.

Should he have never gotten that one-way bus ticket that sealed his fate? Never disappeared late into the night while making peace with knowing he’d never see his surviving friends or family again? Turned away from those double-wide doors of the shiny all-glass Chattel Services Inc. building? Paid better notice to the old picket signs stuffed in the outside trash bins, bold letters warning that this was just corporate slavery hoarding much-needed resources from withering green zones? Masses succumbed to starvation as the government struggled to provide uncontaminated food and water. Yet, the slave trade persisted against all odds, unfazed by the global suffering. In the post-Nemaxys world, dying citizens held no value—but enslaved ones remained a lucrative commodity for the wealthy and powerful elite.

Shoulda, coulda, woulda—a damn awful game to play. 

But it's not like he’s doing anything else. 

****

The man behind the desk keeps smiling at him, which makes it incredibly difficult to fill out the 20-something-page intake form on the clipboard he’s holding. He knows the guy is trying to be friendly, make him feel at ease, and not think too hard about how he’s singing his life away to the highest bidder. 

As he writes, his other hand keeps picking at a hangnail that’s starting to bleed a little bit, but he’s so fucking on edge and caught up in making sure his handwriting is legible enough that he doesn’t notice the dabble of blood smeared across his nail bed.

“Here,” a voice says. He looks up at the blonde man, who doesn’t look much older than him, holding a tissue out for him to grab. 

The dumb expression on his face is evident enough for the man to clarify. “For your finger.” 

He looks down. Notices the small bubble of red peaking over the partially bloody thumb. 

He sounds surprised. “Oh, thanks.” 

He dabs away the blood. His stomach grumbles; he hasn’t eaten anything since dinner last night, which feels like a lifetime ago. Nerves flutter. Fingers pick away at the now crumbled tissue clenched in his hand. 

“We’ll get you some breakfast soon,” The man chirps. He looks up. The guy is still just watching him. Eyes dart around the page, he nibbles the inside of his lip.

“Low blood sugar, huh?”

“Um, I guess.” He doesn’t look up from the page, hoping he doesn’t appear rude. 

“You’re shaking.” The man says this as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and not as if there would be any other possible explanation. 

Fuck, is this how it’s going to be here? Every single move monitored and scrutinized? He doesn’t think he can do this. He gulps and sets the clipboard at the edge of the desk. He needs a moment. He can’t believe he’s doing this—really doing this. 

What the fuck is he doing? 

The little voice in his head is screaming at him to get up and run the fuck out of here. Go back home. You don’t have to do this. There’s another way. You’ll think of something. This is insanity. 

He grabs the small paper cup of water—the kind that’s too small even to be called a cup; disposable shot glass is more like it—and gulps the rest of it down. Meanwhile, the man studies him like a hawk. The guy’s eyes slide to the intake form. Before he registers what’s happening, the man grabs it and starts looking it over.

“I’m—I’m not done,” he stammers. God, he feels like an idiot. He hopes the man doesn’t ask him to clarify an indecipherable word from a shaky hand. Maybe he can blame it on the pen; it was one of those shitty off-brand Bic ballpoint pens you used to buy in packs at Dollar Tree.

The man’s eyes scan the lines of text when he stops and shoots him a grin. “This is great. You’re great. You’ll sell like a hot cake.”

The blood drains from his face, and his heart drops to his stomach, which feels like it just shriveled up in half a second and died inside him. It’s hard to come to terms with being sold—knowing that’s in his future, and apparently near future. Hypothetically, of course, he wants to be sold quickly, but hell, he’s only been here for not even 30 minutes and is still in denial of the last 12 hours that led him to this moment. 

“And happy birthday! We’ll have to celebrate and get you some cake,” The man exclaims with a bright smile.  

“Thanks,” he says quickly. 

He doesn’t feel like celebrating. He’s too damn guilty to pretend to act happy about the big 18–legal adulthood, AKA the day the plan he’s been concocting for the last year-and-a-half came to fruition. How he just left everyone behind and vanished the day after his birthday, leaving nothing in his tracks but a sappy letter for his mom. 

Has she read it yet? Is she and his little brother crying right now? Are they looking for him? Has she called his friends yet? 

“Sexual orientation?” the man asks, breaking his run-on train of thought. The man quirks an inquisitive brow and slightly tilts his head as he looks at him with ocean-blue eyes that somehow seem familiar despite them being little more than strangers. His mind swirls as it does when he receives a message, a premonition. He shuts it off.

Focus. Sell yourself. 

Where was he? Oh yeah—fuck, he left that part blank and told himself he’d come back to it once he thought of something to put. 

He freezes. Fear-pricked skin tightens around brittle bones. Low beats pulse behind his eyes. His face is hot, palms sweat. 

“Um. I-I…I don’t know?” His mouth feels dry. He’s suddenly so thirsty he’s sure he could drink a whole pool. 

“Any experience, then? Hand stuff even?” 

He thought he couldn’t be any more embarrassed, a grave miscalculation. Cheeks burning, his eyes dart to the file cabinet in the corner of the room with the dumb wish that he could telepathically absorb some of the cabinet’s gray to neutralize his rubescent skin tone. Maybe he could one day; he recently developed psychometry, bringing his ability total to four—a rare number to reach, even for a Mystic. What if he continued this roll and turned part chameleon in the face of danger, too? 

He tries to gulp down the dry, invisible mass in his throat that won’t go away. Coughs a little bit, adding to the blatant awkwardness of the situation. 

Smooth, always the charmer. 

He doesn’t need to tap into his senses to know for damn sure the guy expects a candid answer; the uncomfortable silence is enough of an indication of that. 

“No. Look, I’m not here for that type of posting,” he sheepishly admits, fearing the revelation will bring down his assessment price. 

“No shame. Just standard questions are all.” The man continues to smile without missing a beat—is this guy even real? It should put him at ease, but it does anything but. He knows through and through that the man has no malicious intentions, but that doesn’t detract from the icy fear that continues to sprawl his veins. 

The man’s still reading the form, so he shuffles over to the water cooler in the guy’s private office and starts chugging cup after cup of water, hoping the movement will bring a sliver of relief. Thank the universe that the water is chilled, and after five shot glass-sized “cups,” he thinks he may have brought his body temperature back down to a reasonable degree. 

The next question comes from nowhere. “Do you wear contacts?”

“Um, no. They make my eyes itchy,” he explains.

“Open to Lasik?” The man shoots back. 

Is having shitty eyesight and wearing glasses really a deal-breaker? 

“Um, I’ve never thought about it before? Maybe? I guess.”

The man nods subtly, blue eyes roaming up and down his body with intent and professional curiosity. The man’s face freezes in a distant, hard-to-place emotion—lost in the tail end of a half-considered afterthought, one too outlandish to share. He feels vulnerable, exposed—as if the man sees him on a molecular level. It's too close for comfort; he wonders if the man possesses X-ray vision, a piercing gaze like that is reserved for Mystics alone.

Maybe he does, perhaps he is—is he a Mystic, too? 

No, he could read this guy like a children’s picture book. Most other Mystics had the mental discipline to evade his mind-probing. 

The guy’s just doing his job, and low and behold, he’s not just a personality hire.

“You’re lucky you’re cute. You got that innocent boy next door look going on that clients love,” the man vaguely gestures to him, a cupped hand props up his chin as he assumes a thinker’s pose and drums against his cheek. 

He turns away to hide his cherry-hued blushing, which he’s sure the man is well aware of. He’s never been one to take a compliment well. And it's not like any guy wants to be called “cute and innocent.” There’s something secretly dirty about that image, like he’s a thing to be corrupted and turned to the dark side. A test. Something to break. Nor does he like the implication of the sentence, how it’s worded as if to say his perceived looks, taken at face value, outweigh what the man is about to say.

“Normally, people want a blank canvas, a clean slate, something they can mold into their own making. But you come with history, a distinct character. I can spin that. The right person will adore you.” The man’s speaking about him like he’s a fucking spec on an appliance.   

He knows what the man is referring to, even if he thinks himself too polite to say something directly about it out in the open. This round-about way feels worse, though, like it’s the only thing people see when they look at him. It took him his whole life to look past the scars on his face and learn to love his crooked smile. He’s never been torn apart like this, dissected piece by piece, and talked about in terms of marketability. He doesn’t like it—actually, he hates it, but if this is what it takes to get the big bucks, he’ll have to learn to deal. 

Keep your eye on the prize. It’s your job to save them. They need the money more than you need your pride. 

He sits back down and notices the plaque on the guy’s desk: Bryce Wright, Mystic Handler. Yeah, he looks like a Bryce. I bet he was the all-star it-boy quarterback with the matching blonde bombshell cheerleader girlfriend. 

He’s doing what he always does when he’s uncomfortable—nitpicking everything to death. It gives him some ounce of control he’s always desperately clawing at, even if it’s a figment of his imagination. An illusion of lost agency. It's a bad habit, a hard one to break. A mental loop. He stops, knowing that spiraling is the last thing he should do right now.   

He’s sure the receptionist told him the man’s name, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to let it soak into his brain then—he was too busy fighting off his umpteenth panic attack of the day. 

By the time the man, Bryce, called him in here, he focused every iota of attention on filling out the damn novel-length form to his detriment, clipping the corner of the door frame and then running into the chair on the way in here. After that embarrassment wore off and he finally mustered the courage for a glance, he was automatically distracted by Bryce’s persistent plastic smile.

Filling out the rest of the form took way longer than he thought it would. Medical history, diet, skill sets, education, accolades, exercise levels, hobbies, family members—the whole sha-bang. Even questions regarding his mother’s pregnancy with him, which he didn’t know the answers to. 

These people don’t play. This was some serious shit. He’s in deep. 

He slides the clipboard back to Bryce, who gives him a predictable cheesy grin and scans over the rest of the pages.

“We don’t get many like you coming through these doors; you’re a rare breed. Far from the typical one-trick pony claiming to see auras,” Bryce says quietly, eyes still scanning every filled-in answer. It sounded like an outside thought, but he could sense Bryce was covertly prodding for a reply, a subtle test to feel him out and see how well he could read a person. 

It appears that “telepathic empath” scribbled alongside the “Ability” line caught Bryce’s attention. Good.

“Thanks?”

Bryce shoots him a thoughtful smirk, something that’s supposed to read as reassuring. “Yeah, that’s a compliment. Not too good at receiving those, are you?”

“Guess not,” he chuckles, fiddling with his hands in his lap, feeling no better from the clarification.  

Bryce taps on the corner of his desk and surveys him like he still can't decide. Expression reads, what am I going to do with you? He can feel the man’s tangled thoughts, the confusion woven into them, how he’s at the center of it. If he weren’t preoccupied with swallowing the burn in his throat and resisting the urge to drum on the chair’s armrest anxiously, he’d be able to get a better read. 

His bottom lip gets sucked in between his teeth before he notices what he’s doing and forces his mouth to twist to the side in a look he hopes passes as a friendly—but shy—half-grin. Sell innocent boy next door.

“I know, I’m a bit of an enigma,” he jokes, finally meeting Bryce eye-to-eye. At that, Bryce smiles—genuinely this time. 

He’s slowly winning the guy over; he can feel it in the way only he can. 

“That you are my friend,” Bryce chuckles, retrieving two pens from the pen cup on his desk and holding each between a thumb and index finger. 

Bryce flashes him a toothy grin and angles his head, “High intuition, huh? Tell me which one is my favorite.”  

He holds the man’s stare, glances at the pens, then blows an all-knowing short breath through his nose. “Neither. The one on your desk is.” He tilts his head, nodding at the customized cherry wood fountain pen with Bryce’s name engraved on the broad side of the cap. 

“This is a Graduation present from dear old Grandpa Joel, who isn’t with us anymore. My condolences,” he confirms matter-of-factly without delay. He doesn’t know how quickly he picked up on this; object readings usually require more mental effort. 

Bryce and Grandpa Joel must’ve been really close; that pen has a lot of energy.

Bryce falters a minute, lets the pens drop, then roll off his desk. His blue eyes turn into saucers, his brows crease, and his face freezes in disbelief. 

After a few beats, Bryce’s wide-eyed look of shock morphs into a nervous chuckle. “Well, shit…shit!” Bryce shakes his head, eyes lighting up with hopeful promise as he blows his lips out as if to let off steam.

At least he’s easy to impress. 

“And are you firm with your preferred designation as a Domestic Aide?” Bryce asks, an edge of doubt weighing on his tone. 

“Yeah, I’m best at one-on-one stuff. Unless you think my talents would better serve elsewhere?” He offers, trying to be cooperative while also standing his ground. He’s read enough horror stories of Handlers talking incoming trainees into positions they didn’t want to know he had to be careful during the intake negotiation. He doesn’t think Bryce is the type to persuade him into doing something he doesn’t want, but one could never be too cautious with these things; this was his entire life on the line. The last thing he wants is to gamble his fate away to someone who wouldn’t appreciate his abilities and would force him to play a role as something he wasn’t.  

The man sighs, rubs his chin, and then perks up at the last second. “Forgive me for being rather forward about this, sensitive topic and all, but would you be willing to take a vow of celibacy? Some clients are looking for a, how should I say it…sexless help—someone non-threatening. Especially a male. Especially a Mystic. There’s a demand for them. You know, the type someone would trust their children and wives around and not have to worry about. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you fit the bill perfectly—I mean, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want, but it may help seal the deal for some. An assurance of sorts. Just something to think about.” Bryce sucks his teeth as he repositions, now slouching in the big office chair and fiddling with his expensive-looking Grandpa Joel pen. It’s hard to tell who’s more nervous.  

He never imagined having zero sex appeal would ever come in handy, let alone help snag a future posting. This tidbit wasn’t on any of the forums he spent the last year combing through. He supposes it’s an industry secret, and the PR team has been hard at work scrubbing the internet for anything deemed an insider trade secret.

“You mean like a nun?” He jokes.

Bryce snorts, relief softening his features. “Yeah, sure. What do you say? You up for playing Mother Teresa?” The man pauses, leans in as if disclosing a secret, and says in a hushed tone, “Doesn’t have to be forever.” 

That characteristic cheesy smile morphs into a sly smirk, eyebrows slightly hike up, a look that screams Machiavellian-level traitor. Weird, but well-meaning. Figures it’s part of some eldritch-esque man-to-man joke that didn’t land since his telepathic connectors are all screwy from the wake of anxiousness.

The last sentence rattles around in his head. There’s a brief pause where he weighs his options and pretends to consider saying no, like he ever imagined an alternative reality that didn’t end in him dying as a happily un-kissed virgin.  

His lips twist to the side in a half-smirk. “Put me in, coach.”

Bryce pumps a triumphant fist and lets out a loud “Woot woot!”—a battle cry he intuitively recognizes from Bryce's glory days on the football field. For a fleeting instant, he sees a flashback: a sweaty, younger Bryce basks in the crowd's adoration, teammates swarming around him in excitement. Through Bryce’s eyes, he sees the giant, illuminated scoreboard with a Viking mascot looming in the background.

He just won them the game. 

They’re going to the Championships. 

Only they didn’t; the next day the outbreak claimed the lives of half his teammates. 

He pulls away, and settles back in his body, Bryce none the wiser of the glimpse of his past he stole.   

“Alright, that’s what I like to hear!” The man stands up from behind the desk and stretches out, his back popping as he throws his upper body into warm-up twists. “Now, let’s get this notarized and get you your new ID number. We’re honored to have you with us, Mr. Rossmoore.”

Bryce sticks a hand out. Across the desk, he quickly pockets the deteriorating sweat-drenched tissue he had to pry from his palm and meets the man with a tight shake—that, right there. The moment over six years ago he wishes he could go back in time and prevent from ever happening. 

The moment that, despite it feeling so completely wrong—ringing every warning bell and staking every red flag—seemed like it was the only way to make things right. A moment that he laments and curses every day of his miserable existence. A moment that inevitably led him here—a regal investment worth an A-list actor’s net worth turned abused, chained-up slave thrown down in the dungeon of a multi-million dollar mansion owned by one of the most affluent families in Apocamerica. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

He was never intended to be a two-in-one punching bag fleshlight for a boozy, cracked-out asshole with a trust fund. 

But as the saying goes—the road to hell is paved with only the best intentions. 

***

A big thank you to 32 for beta-reading draft 1 of this months ago and giving me feedback! You the real MVP!

(Previous) Taglist (if you would like to be added or removed, please let me know!): @sacredwrath @pirefyrelight @little-rat-dragon @potterhead5ever @whumpyourdamnpears

@3-2-whump @whumped-by-glitter

[tala-bez-i]

At first sight Chapter Forty-Five

(m!reader x Bonten!Haruchiyo Sanzu)

Fluff/slash/reader is male/cursing/BontenTimeline/drugs and alcohol mentioned/violence/blood/death

All characters that appeared in the Tokyo Revengers manga and anime belong to Ken Wakui.

Words: 4388

This chapter may not be pleasant to read for some people.

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

The middle of the night, one of the warehouses of the lumberyard in Kōtō. 

You would never have thought that you would ever end up in the same place, at the same time, and for the same purpose as Tomoko L/n, your older sister. 

Both of you, probably from the same source, got a tip that Yuji Yuu L/n, your older half-brother, would appear that night and in that location, and that this would be your only chance to catch him. 

Your sister did not actually become a private detective as she had planned, but under the influence of your father, Kenzou's, pleas, she agreed to accept a promotion to investigator and was given the case of prostitute murders, which she had been working on unofficially. Very unofficially. 

She hid from her superiors the fact that she was related to the suspect and, which was hard to believe, no one tried to check it. L/n was a fairly common surname, so no one suspected any connection. The only trouble would have come if DNA tests had been conducted, which fortunately, had not been necessary so far... At least your brother hadn't left any biological traces behind. He had people to do his dirty work and his hands remained clean. 

Just like with Tetta Kisaki... Similar method of operation... 

For almost two months since your conversation with Takemichi Hanagaki, you had spent a lot of time trying to sort out all your memories. You tried to separate the two chronologies and even started a journal on your computer for this purpose and wrote down everything you could remember from your... How should you put it? Your previous life? No, you didn't die... Your previous timeline? The universe? 

You still felt frustrated because every term didn't seem to fit, but you had to start somewhere. You were conducting your own investigation. 

*bang, bang, bang!* 

Three bullets fired from the gun of one of the men belonging to Yuu and his companion, Mina, passed right next to your head. You ducked down behind a pile of wood, behind which you managed to find a relatively safe shelter. You looked to your left and saw Tomoko preparing to fire from her hiding place. She was in a much better position than you. While she was protected from above by a protruding platform, there was nothing above you. You cursed quietly. 

Despite the fact that you both came to the place where Yuji met with another, much smaller criminal group, you and your sister came alone. Completely without backup. You both did something stupid and there was no way back. 

Sure, she could have called for backup, after all she was a policewoman, but you? Calling Bonten wouldn't be stupid, but... To spite Sanzu, you left your phone at home. 

Why to spite him? Because lately he's been following you more and more often through the installed app. You had quiet days again and you knew that if you got out of this mess unscathed... 

*bang!* 

*bang, bang, bang!* 

Several larger splinters flew in all directions and you felt at least one of them hit the side of your face, causing grazes. Yes, if you made it out of this unscathed, the love of your life would kill you at best, at worst, torture you before he did. Such disobedience... 

“For fuck's sake, Y/n! Do something!” Tomoko shouted, giving you an angry look. 

You cursed and leaned out of cover to shoot at the opponent who was hiding behind a similar cover as you. You aimed and before the man could hide, you shot him straight in the head, killing him instantly. 

“Where's Yuji?!” You shouted back to your sister, trying to aim the gun at another opponent again. 

“How the hell am I supposed to know?!” She cursed loudly, firing two shots and silence fell. “Move!” 

You both left your hiding places at the same time and ran to the next pallets filled with wood prepared for transport. You leaned out from behind yours, but you didn't see any movement, so you looked at your sister. 

She signaled you to approach the gate connecting the hall you were in with the next one, choosing the path as close to the wall as possible, and at the same time she would choose a similar path, thus you should be able to surround the opponent. Of course, if there was still someone alive. 

You followed her instructions and, passing the next piles of neatly stacked wood, you checked if anyone was hiding behind them. There was a ringing in your ears and although you hated this type of situation, you liked this incredible feeling when adrenaline was coursing through your veins and every time it happened, for a split second you thought about Shuji Hanma, starting to understand him. 

You pressed yourself against the wall on either side of the open gate to the second warehouse hall and looked at each other. Tomoko's face was one of concentration and determination, but you saw something in her eyes that you were 100% sure was in yours as well. You both regretted not coming to the scene with backup. 

That you also had to argue with Sanzu... 

“Forget about it.” Sanzu said, trying to keep his voice calm, though his hand movements showed a high level of nervousness. 

“This is our chance...” 

“Not there, Y/n. I can't go there with you, and no one else will, do you understand?” 

“Why? This is a high priority.” You said, setting down your glass of alcohol, maybe a little too abruptly, and a bit of it spilled onto the bar counter. 

“Because we have a transaction to make, for fuck's sake.” The man answered, raising his hands in the air as if he was asking God for more patience. “We planned this over a month ago and there's no way we can change it, do you understand? There's no way we can change the date!” 

“Then I'll go by myself!” 

“Y/n don't you understand what I'm saying? Forget about it!” 

“Give me a few men and we'll deal with Yuji once and for all!” 

“Shut your mouth!” There was an angry glint in his eyes, and you knew that the man was going to lose his patience any minute. “That son of a bitch and his whore... We'll get them some other time! They have to wait because we have more important things to worry about!” 

“A drug deal and a few traitors! The usual!” You grabbed a bottle of vodka and threw it at the wall. The glass shattered everywhere and a dent appeared in the wall. “I worked all these weeks to get him and now that I have the chance, you... YOU TELL ME TO LET IT GO?!” 

“Y/n...” 

“SHUT UP, SANZU! FOR FUCK'S SAKE! I'M FUCKED UP WITH THESE PIECES OF SHIT! I'M FUCKED UP WITH TRAITORS! I'M ORDERED TO KILL YUJI AND THAT'S WHAT I'M GOING TO DO WHETHER YOU FUCKING LIKE IT OR NOT!” 

“Don't use that tone with me, L/n!” He grabbed your shirt and yanked it roughly, pulling you closer to him. His face was very close to yours and the tips of your noses were almost touching. “What you're saying borders on betrayal, do you understand?” He growled through clenched teeth. “Undermining the authority of someone higher up than you, ignoring their orders, and not caring about the syndicate's interests...” 

“What lack of care?” You growled, looking into his eyes. “Hunting down a guy who threatens the syndicate's fucking interests is lack of care?” 

“Transactions aren't...” 

“I don't give a damn.” 

“Drug dealing is one of the most profitable businesses we have, when will you understand that?” 

You didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked into his eyes. Of course he was on drugs, but being under the influence of alcohol yourself, you knew you had no right to pay any attention to his condition. 

“Give me the men…” 

“No.” 

“At least two.” 

“No, L/n and that's my final word.” 

“Kakucho wouldn't see a problem.” 

“I'm higher than him.” 

“But lower than Mikey and he wouldn't see a problem either.” You said and after a moment you felt a punch in the face. 

Your head turned to the side at the blow, but another tug on your shirt forced you to look the pink-haired man straight in the face again. 

"Not. In that. Tone. Dog.” He pushed you with such force that you fell into the bar and two more bottles shattered on the floor. “You have to stay home tomorrow and wait for me to come back.” 

“Shouldn’t I go with you, boss?” You asked mockingly and the man grimaced. 

“I don’t want to see you during the transaction. Otherwise I’ll give in to temptation and shoot your fucking head off like I’m going to do to all the other traitors.” 

“So now I’m a traitor?” You asked, standing up straight and straightening your shirt. 

“If you disobey my order, you will be.” The other man said and looked around. “Clean up this mess.” 

In principle, the subject of the argument shouldn't be taken seriously and you should have let it go, but you weren't in the mood at the time. It all started when you couldn't take Yuuta to your place this weekend. The boy was feeling really bad, probably developing the flu, and on top of that, he broke his arm two days earlier when he fell out of a tree, which of course his grandfather had forbidden him from climbing. 

It was also a week during which you found yourself reaching for alcohol more often than usual. Mainly because you felt inexplicably tense and stressed. You felt like you were about to explode, and you only calmed down after the argument with Haruchiyo. 

Today he hadn't spoken to you once, but you knew he had been watching you through the app. You wouldn't be surprised if he had also checked the cameras he had placed all over the house. When you found one in the bedroom, you were furious. It was your home... But you were the man's property whether you liked it or not. One of the downsides of being close to Sanzu. 

That's why you decided to leave your phone at home, and you knew that unless the device itself changed position, Sanzu wouldn't check the cameras to see what you were doing at the time. You left the device in the bedroom and faked the bed, so he thought you were asleep. Classic. 

Now you were regretting that decision. You should have listened to him and let tonight go. You were sure that the pink-haired gangster had already discovered your ruse and was now searching for you, but you had a feeling it was too late. 

“We’re going in there. I think I saw them.” Tomoko said, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“And what next? He had about twenty more men with him…” 

“Fuck them… No, we can’t give up now.” She said, as if reading your mind. “Forget it, we’ve gone too far. There’s no turning back. It’s either us or them.” 

“Fuck… Maybe call for backup?” 

“I would, but I left my stuff in the car.” She said nervously. 

“What?” You looked at her in disbelief. “You can’t be serious…” 

“Call Sanzu or someone else.” 

“I can’t…” 

She looked at you questioningly. “No signal?” 

“No phone.” You replied and the woman froze. 

"You're kidding." 

You shook your head feeling embarrassed and irritated. 

“If we succeed, I will kill you.” She replied and made a hand gesture signaling you to move on. 

You had barely crossed the threshold of the gate when more shots rang out, aimed straight at you. It was only by a miracle that you managed to find shelter, although you felt another splinter of wood from the bullets hit your ear. 

“Fuck...” You touched the sore spot and felt moisture under your fingers. 

When you looked at your hand, your fingers were covered in blood and with every movement of your head, you felt discomfort. 

“Are you okay?” Tomoko asked worriedly. 

“It's just a scratch...” You replied, trying to stay calm. “Just a splinter...” 

“Don't touch it.” 

The gunfire stopped and you heard a deep voice you would rather never hear again. 

“Tomoko!” Yuji’s voice carried through the hall as if through a PA system and a shiver ran down your spine. “Tomoko!” 

“What do you want?!” The woman shouted back, trying to discreetly peek out from behind a pile of wood. 

“Lay down your weapons and surrender! And as your relative, I will guarantee you a safe retreat!” 

“What?” You looked at your sister. “You know this is a bluff...” 

“I don’t think so... You know how much he supports the ideology of the family...” 

“Tomoko! Please put down your weapon and surrender!” The man's tone didn't change one bit. 

“I'm in the police, Yuji!” The woman shouted as she changed the magazine to a new one. 

“I know you've followed our father's path and I'm proud of you for that! Leave this traitor and surrender!” 

“I'm not a traitor!” You shouted. “You are, Yuji!” 

“Tomoko, please!” Your brother ignored you completely, turning back to the woman who rested the back of her head against the wood. “Otherwise, you leave me no choice and I really don't want you to get hurt!” 

“Your men shot at me, Yuji!” 

“Those men weren’t mine!” 

“Tomoko…” You said quietly, having a bad feeling. 

The woman closed her eyes for a moment, then shook her head. “Fuck you, Yuu! If Y/n doesn’t kill you, I will!” 

“You have one last chance, Tomoko.” This time the man’s voice was quieter, but still perfectly audible. “Please.” 

“No! You’ll have to kill me!” 

There was silence for a moment, and then the words you never wanted to hear were spoken. 

“Your stubbornness is worthy of our family, little sister. Fine. If that’s your wish.” His voice was cold, and concern appeared in the woman’s eyes. “Minako!” 

There was a bang that you recognized immediately as something much bigger than a gun, and your sister's head snapped back, red blood spraying everywhere. You watched in horror and complete shock as Tomoko's body slumped to the dusty floor of the lumberyard's warehouse, as if in slow motion. 

He killed her. He killed her before your eyes. 

He killed her... He killed her... 

Ignoring the warning shout of one of Yuu's men, you jumped towards your sister's body. You completely ignored the flashes of blue lights that were visible from behind the high windows of the warehouse, and the quick stomping of feet. 

The only thing you could focus on at that moment was Tomoko's face. On her forehead was a large hole in the entrance from a bullet fired from a sniper rifle. Just like in your dream, after which your life changed. 

You wanted to touch her, but for the first time in your life you felt afraid to do it. What will you tell your father? 

You knelt down next to her body and checked the pockets of her jacket. To your surprise, in one you found a small bag with white powder and a phone. You turned on the screen and saw a half-full range icon. She could have called for backup... You could have gotten out of this unscathed... You could have caught them all... 

“Tomoko...” You said quietly, looking into her half-closed, dead eyes, but as soon as you heard the shouts of people coming from the hall you were in a moment ago, you jumped to your feet and, ignoring the possibility of danger from Yuu, ran to the wide-open exit of the warehouse. 

You managed to run outside to an empty smaller square and as soon as you looked to the right, you noticed the police cars standing there. However, she called for backup... 

You ran to the passage in the fence, probably made by the fleeing criminals your stepbrother was working with, and you used it. With the last of your strength, you managed to get to your motorcycle, which you left near the lumberyard, and continued your escape. 

Your mind went blank, and your body moved as if on automatic. When you entered a dark alley, you stopped. You wanted to scream, but you couldn't get a single word out. You had to do something... 

You unlocked the phone you had taken from your sister and dialed Sanzu's number, which you knew by heart. 

“Tomoko?” The man answered almost immediately, his voice dripping with rage. “If you see Y/n, tell him I'll kill him when he gets home.” 

“Tomoko's dead.” You said quietly, your voice trembling. 

“Y/n?” He asked, not hiding his shock. “What are you talking about?” 

“Tomoko's dead.” You repeated, and felt the first tear roll down your cheek. “She's dead.” 

“Where are you?” 

“She's dead...” 

“Y/n, where are you? Hey!” 

“Fuck...” You groaned, lowering the hand you held the phone in. “She's dead.” 

“Y/n?! Y/n!” 

You lifted the phone to your ear again and swallowed hard. “I don’t know… I was at the lumberyard in Kōtō…” 

“Which one?” 

“The one by the car parts…” 

“Turn on the location, I’ll track you, Y/n.” Sanzu’s voice was composed and you could clearly hear that the man was moving. You did as he told you and after a moment the man spoke again. “Stay where you are. Do you understand? Don’t move.” 

The entire time you were waiting for the pink-haired man, you sat against the cold wall of the building with your head buried in both hands. You could hear the sounds of police sirens and ambulances nearby, but you couldn’t move. You didn’t want to. This was your end. You could feel it in your bones. 

As soon as Sanzu appears, your life will end. You broke his order and because of your stupidity Yuji will become more cautious, which will constantly threaten Bonten's interests. You committed a betrayal that will not be forgiven and you will not get another chance... 

A large white transporter stopped before entering the alley and three men in work clothes jumped out of it, ran to your motorcycle and led it to the back of the vehicle to load it inside. Normally you would react to this, but not this time... 

“Y/n?” A man whose voice you knew very well approached you. 

“I fucked up. I completely fucked up, Sanzu.” You said without lifting your head and the man crouched in front of you. 

He lifted your head by your hair, and you looked into his eyes, which were full of anger. “You dumb dick...” 

He pushed your head back, stood up and sent you a strong kick straight to the face. You felt your nose burst under the impact and felt the metallic taste of hot blood in your mouth. 

You fell to the side and the man kicked you in the stomach a few times. You groaned in pain, but didn't try to protect yourself, knowing it would do nothing anyway. 

"You complete idiot! Fucking moron!" He kicked you in the head and grabbed you by your clothes, lifting you up with one, strong yank. "Look at me!" 

You barely carried out the order and this time, in addition to anger, you saw pain in his bright eyes. You swallowed hard, and your hands tightened around his wrists. 

"What were you thinking, huh?" 

"I wasn't..." You replied quietly. 

“You weren't thinking. Exactly!” He slammed your back against the wall of the building. “I should kill you now, you know? I should blow your fucking stupid head off, L/n. You're lucky. You're fucking lucky.” 

You looked at him again, completely missing his words. 

“When I found out you weren't home...” The corners of his mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile, but he didn't. “I called Mikey. He ordered you to be taken to the hideout.” Oh, fuck... “He wanted to talk to you about your sister... And now, because of your stupidity, she's dead.” 

You shook your head slightly and felt the pain near your ear again, caused by the splinter embedded in your flesh. “She came there regardless of me. I didn't contact her about it... You have to believe me, Sanzu...” 

“I don't give a damn.” He growled through his teeth and threw you on the bare ground. “Tie him up!” 

Two men approached you and tied your hands behind your back, pressing your aching face into the ground in the process. They lifted you up and dragged you to the car, which Haruchiyo had already entered. 

You thought they would put you in the trunk, but they pushed you into the backseat, right next to the pink-haired gangster and slammed the door shut behind you. After a few seconds, the car started moving suddenly. 

The man radiated a cold, almost icy hostility, but at some point, his hand moved to your head and his fingers began to absently stroke your hair, making your heart start to break. You were sure that this was the last tender gesture that Sanzu would ever give you. This time you won't make it out alive... 

You gasped for breath, feeling an unpleasant lightness wash over you, and you lost consciousness. 

“Darling…” A quiet female voice, as if from somewhere far away… 

“Baby... Y/n, it's time to get up...” A gentle brush of his hand on your cheek... 

You squeezed your eyelids shut and slowly opened your eyes. The first thing you saw was a white ceiling, but somehow much lower than if you were lying on a bed. 

“Y/n...” You let out a grunt in response to the woman's voice and the face of a young woman appeared in your field of vision, her light blonde hair falling like a curtain over your face, tickling your cheeks and forehead. “Good morning, love.” 

You blinked a few times, not understanding what was happening. They didn't get you to Mikey in time and you died? You didn't know this woman... 

“What the hell?” You asked indistinctly and the woman giggled, moving away from you. 

“You know? That's not how you greet your own girlfriend, Y/n.” 

“Girlfriend?” You mumbled under your breath as you sat down on the bed... 

On a futon. You were sleeping on a futon. 

You looked around the small room, which turned out to be a bedroom with half-painted white walls, as if everything was being renovated. 

What is this place? 

“Hey, handsome…” You turned your head towards the voice and saw that the young woman who woke you up was leaning against the door frame, which was still not actually on its hinges. “Butter toast, scrambled eggs, and strong coffee?” 

“Yes, please.” After a moment, you answered automatically, feeling your stomach start to growl. “And some vegetables, if I may ask...” 

The woman smiled sweetly at you and went somewhere, probably to the kitchen, because after a moment you heard the electric kettle you bought together yesterday in the store being turned on... 

“What?” You mumbled quickly getting up from the floor and stepping on a small, women's handbag, which you picked up and looked inside. 

You pulled her wallet out of it and opened it. The first thing you saw was an ID card with a photo of a woman named Emi Nakayabashi and then you felt a strong headache. 

Flashes of memories from your first meeting at the police station, where you both worked, appeared before your eyes. You as an investigator, she as a lab assistant. 

You doubled over, pressing your hands to your temples. 

Bonten was your enemy. 

After the defeat of Izana Kurokawa and Tenjiku, you abandoned your life of crime and followed in your father's footsteps. 

You broke off contact with Haruchiyo Sanzu, even though it was the only thing you didn't really want to do, but he forced you to. 

"If you try to get in my way again, L/n, I'll kill you. If you're not with Mikey, then you're against him. Against me." 

What the fuck happened?! You fucked up with Yuu and were supposed to be taken to the Bonten hideout? What was all that supposed to mean?! 

"Honey?" You felt a gentle touch of a woman's hand on your shoulder. "What happened?" 

"It's just a headache..." You answered her as politely as you could, trying to control your emotions. 

“Come, you'll sit on the chair...” She led you to the small kitchen, which was already quite nicely furnished, although there were still unpacked boxes from the move on the countertops. “Try to eat something, please, I'll give you a pill.” 

You did as you were told, although after the first bite your stomach cramped and you felt like you were about to throw up. 

You closed your eyes and pursed your lips, trying to control the unpleasant feeling. 

“Here you go.” The woman opened your hand, placed the pill on it and gently brushed the hair away from your forehead. “It's probably a slight poisoning from the paint fumes. And the seller said it was non-toxic… 

“It's nothing, thank you, darling.” You said, feeling your lips stretch into a gentle smile on their own. “We're free today, right?” 

“Yes, but you have to send the report, like you promised your superior.” The woman answered you and you nodded. 

“Sorry... Don't make me breakfast, Emi... I'll eat later.” 

“Poor thing.” She said quietly, caressing your cheek and you felt loved. “Your laptop is in the other room.” 

You kissed her hand and directed your steps to the indicated place. You sat down at the small desk and turned on the device and opened the appropriate folder. It turned out that you were investigating a man nicknamed Yuu, who was connected to the murders of women. 

So that didn't change... 

You returned to the desktop, and only then did you notice another folder, which had a hidden name and was protected by a password, which you immediately remembered. The birthday of your dead mother. 

You opened it and when you started reading the documentation inside, you felt as if your heart had jumped into your throat along with your stomach. 

You were investigating the Bonten case, specifically Haruchiyo Sanzu. You were hunting him as well. 

<PREVIOUS/NEXT>

[quitealotofsodapop]

[Silly au idea]

Hmm... I'm most intrigued by The Split Soul Route - partly from the oddball and what sort of Nature Vs Nurture can occur here - but I also think the Found Baby in the Dumpster AKA The Bao Route is cute too. Because that's how Pigsy got MK and by the time the group could/does realize who Bao is, they've already gotten too attached to do anything to her.

[In the Shadowpeach route of my "Reincarnated LBD" au idea;]

But I do love me an immortal killing daughter of the Great Sage. Hard choice. Maybe a poll is needed.

[basically Macaque ends up "holding on to" the wild un-reincarnated soul of LBD]

Considering the shit she did, I doubt that he's just 'holding on to', that monkey probably put the soul in a jar and is shaking it like a madman several times a day - like Tom from the Chuck Jones era of Tom and Jerry in the invisible Jerry episode. But more maniacal laughter.

[Will it attach itself to the recently-reconcilled Sun Wukong and Macaque, becoming Yuebei Xing like in the au? Shadowpeach screaming ensues.]

HMMM!

What if they didn't know? Certainly, a ton of adrenaline petering off and a near end of the world could make everyone a little less observant of a stray soul going for a new host?

Don't know what she could even do in that form, but stay tucked away and wait for the chance to get a new body - like, unless she can manage to make Mac horny enough to go to SWK for relief and that's how they make the kid (sort of exes-with-benefits and maybe figuring-it-out-hate-sex), BUT!

By the time Macadoodle figures out he's got a bun in the oven - that's when the Brotherhood thing is happening. He was gonna tell SWK that day, but it all got derailed like the trains in Persona 5, so he kept it to himself until it got resolved.

Then he tells SWK, maybe after the beach party? Just, putting the other's hands over the still-small-bump and him putting it together.

TMKATI-Mac got lucky he didn't indulge too much in his first pregnancy...Yuebei Route-Mac did not get so lucky. Maybe as a sort-of final 'Fuck you' from LBD? XD

They'd figure it out later, but, like in the Bao Route, they're too attached.

And asking Pigsy for help/advice a lot. Pig-daddy raised a good kid, so they're taking notes.

current posts on the "Reincarnated!LBD au"; here (og post + very cool idea for the Ironbull side), here (shadow twins got made on accident), and here (Shadowpeach done goofed).

I'm leaning towards the "Split Soul" route cus I like writing around the chaos of the gang realising that there isn't just *one whole* super-ancient demon soul floating around. Almost mirrors the situation with the Rings of Samadhi.

Basically in her death; LBD attempted to "Piccolo Junior" (ty @dorothygale123) herself into a fresh new body - only for her soul to splinter into pieces. Two were able to be caught in the direct aftermath and stored away for the meantime - but Reincarnation has a 49 day deadline, and if those days pass without a solution the Underworld will repossess the soul fragments themselves.

So whats easier than for the Fragments to become New Souls instead of potientially reforming into LBD? ¯(ツ)/¯

[What if they didn't know? Certainly, a ton of adrenaline petering off and a near end of the world could make everyone a little less observant of a stray soul going for a new host?]

Hehehe.

Lets just say the adrenaline of fighting your possessed former-mate, making him remember what he's fighting for, and showing your parental side, is a Big turn on for a certain pair of monkeys.

But yeah, no one paid attention to how many Soul Fragments got formed in the aftermath.

[-that monkey probably put the soul in a jar and is shaking it like a madman several times a day-]

The thought of Macaque's storage solution for part of LBD's soul being a jar is hilarious. MK probably yells that he's "just making her angry!" when he catches him doing it.

Of course this form of torment is the reason Maccadoodle realises that the soul fragment is suddenly missing after he and Wukong make up...

Downside; Macaque does spend S4 el pregante and not telling anyone. First person to realise whats up is Nezha, who found out completely on accident. ("I turned my back for ONE SECOND, and you and Sun Wukong have two infants, with one on the way?!").

Also at least one member of the Brotherhood smelled that something was Off with Mac and mentioned it to the rest of them. Azure had a blue-screen error moment when he tried doing the math. Mac still kicks asses when he decides to fight, even with Peng taking a moment to mock his "egg-burdened" appearance. Peng gets shadow-slapped into the horizon.

[Then he tells SWK, maybe after the beach party? Just, putting the other's hands over the still-small-bump and him putting it together.]

Omg thats the perfect scenario for how Mac tells Wukong about the baby. They're sharing the shade, in addition to a pair of sleepy shadow monkeys, and Mac just takes Wukong's hand when he's offered the peach popsicle and brings it to his middle.

Wukong's eyes blink gold for a second before he starts sobbing with joy. Lots of loud, gross, sappy kissing ensues.

Bonus+: In theory each of the four New Souls represents an aspect of LBD that was too great for one little kid to inherit.

Yuebei (aka the Shadowpeach baby): Is much like how she is in the TMKATI au. Is a big, kinda-ugly, baby who's started cooking around the time of S4. Messy black fur, pale skull-shaped face marking, six ears and a shocking amount of strength for a newborn. Represents LBD's wrath.

Bao (Freenoodles): Dumpster piglet. Found in the trash during the post-battle clean-up of the noodle shop. Looks like the chubbiest little piglet with wispy white fur & black spots. Was assumed to just be a street urchin orphaned/abandoned in the chaos of LBD's destruction. By the time they realise Bao is even a Fragment of LBD, she's already Freenoodles pride and joy + MK's beloved baby sister. Represents LBD's hunger for power.

Guǐhuǒ (Ironbull baby, name suggested by @aokolpvxs): PIF and DBK planned to have a big big family together long before the complications with Red arose. So when Red Son explained to them about this little unreincarnated soul needing a "home"... who are they to turn down the chance at having a second born after so long? Red didn't even suggest it to them, they insisted. And you *know* that little half-bull princess is gonna have DBK wrapped around her little finger before she even arrives. Represents LBD's pride/decorum.

Shísuàn (Spider gang baby): Part of LBD's soul that got trapped in spider silk, and by-proxy became a spider (specifically a Diving bell) demon egg. Egg is lime green and about the size of a basketball. Despite initial reservations, the whole gang are soon fighting over who gets to name/take care of the spiderling inside. At least until the ginger-haired spiderling hatches and starts screaming with colic. Huntsman finally ends up asking Sandy and the Monkie Kid gang for help once the late nights get too much for him. Turns out the baby spider was just gassy. Has specific "favorites" among the gang, which includes new friend the Scorpion Queen. Represents LBD's mischief/discourse.

The Mayor is hanging around too. Got to keep an eye on where His Lady is after all. Gets beaten up by the gang the second he shows up anywhere. Later even gets beaten up by "His Lady" in the form of baby Yuebei deciding he failed the vibe check.

[karkatting]

alphaswitch au - introduction

hi! here is some info about the alphaswitch au by @clockworkdrop​ and i, since some people expressed interest in it!

all of this is directly copied from the huge doc we have, and this post is mostly focused on the characters. not everything is set in stone/planned out yet, so some characters have more info than others. my plan is to update this post with new stuff as we figure it out lol.

general stuff

alpha kids and dancestor trolls are the ‘beta session(s)’

dirk and roxy live in the same year as jane and jake

alpha kids and dancestors are the same age (16 at the beginning, 19 by the end)

not a direct parallel of the canon beta session, some things are different

session lasts several months

the rest is under a readmore cus this shits long

alpha humans

jane:

server player: roxy

sprite: gcat + poppop

patron troll: aranea

receives guidance from meenah

guardian, dad (dad), john is deceased

meenah insisted on being her guide instead of aranea because of their connection

meenah tries to give relationship advice but since she’s jumping all over it’s not helpful

jake:

server player: supposed to be jane, ends up being dirk

sprite: dirkbot + ??

patron troll: kankri

receives guidance from aranea

guardian, jade, is deceased and was grown into a giant tree on the island

aranea became his guide after kankri fucked off and meenah stole jane from her

aranea tries to give him romantic advice but it kinda doesn’t work

roxy:

server player: dirk

sprite: wizard doll + frigglish

patron troll & guidance: porrim

guardian, rose, is a prolific author whom roxy really looks up to, but she feels a sort of distance from her that she doesn’t know how to fix

often talks to meulin about cats and other things. roxy learns about the quadrant system from her

when her mom dies, has an aspect berserk moment similar to rose’s grimdark that causes her viewport to go dark

has some internalized homophobia, doesn’t know she’s not straight (yet)

dirk:

server player: jake

sprite: a puppet i guess + dirk’s head

patron troll: latula

receives guidance from kankri & latula

guardian, dave, is a famous movie director and is rarely home. he leaves various items and notes around the house for him

secretly wants to be closer with him, probably kind of fucked up when he dies

still has lil hal who is just as much of a nuisance. maybe even more so

while his patron troll is latula, kankri quickly took her place as his guide both because dirk is the only one that can even somewhat handle talking to him and kankri finds him infuriating in an intrigued way. he also thought latula wasn’t “doing it right”

he still talks to latula, they get along well. she maybe helps him out with jake stuff cus kankri sure as hell isn’t going to. she is also more helpful with game stuff than kankri is

after dirkjake kiss, dirks head ends up in dirks puppet sprite so he has dirksprite (another splinter, he mad)

hal

still glasses

just being so annoying to dirk

also to kankri

he figures out whats up with dirkkri before dirk does

eventually dirk is convinced to make the body for him, its a horse robot but it can also transform into a human body too. hal loves it unironically but dirk is using like 12 layers of irony to rationalize this being a good decision

trolls

session lasts 3 years (13-16)

won but just barely

still gave the frog cancer

tons of teen drama still

basically everything that was described in the comic to happen before the dreambubbles still happens, except the scratch

kankri:

trollhandle: genesiologicalCancriform (GC)

genesiology - obsolete term for study of genetics/reproduction

cancriform - latin adjective describing crabs/cancers

in a neverending cycle of debate with his past and future selves

probably likes troll documentaries

panquadromantic like karkat, but just suppresses any sort of romantic feelings he has towards anyone. a lot of internalized… panquadrophobia???

pretends he’s not suppressing anything because all microlabels are valid but also shames porrim but he’s never been a hypocrite in his life 

his celibacy is more of a result of the hemocaste system on beforus rather than a genuine disinterest in romance - he wants to feel independent and not be “coddled” by anyone

picks fights/debates with dirk over stupid shit just for the hell of it

still has a crush on latula (at first)

pacifist, so probably relied on porrim to help him during the game (was mad about it though) (his plan was to lecture to imps and ogres to go away)

she teaches him how to use guns but he still rarely utilizes it

Still wearing the leggings until right when the humans arrive, when porrim gives him the sweater

arc: learning to listen to his friends instead of speaking over them, not be misogynistic and ableist, quadrant stuff, recognize some of the group don’t care about hemospectrum, learn to accept help from others (and hopefully get the rest of them there) (dirk helps with most of it)

meulin:

trollhandle: catalysislAficionado (CA)

catalysis - a catalyst is something that provokes significant change or action, referring to her matchmaking

aficionado - she loves doing it

very invested in the love lives of the kids and tries to help them out with their crushes even if it has no chance of happening

idk i think she’s just taking them like barbies and smooshing their heads together

has a tendency to view others as characters rather than real people

causes problems through incompetence/obliviousness to others’ feelings

besties/eventual moirails with roxy

this catgirl can fit so many repressed emotions in her

arc: get away from kurloz (roxy), learn boundaries (also roxy?)

meenah:

trollhandle: (CC)

feels connected to jane after going through her timeline, for reasons she doesn’t understand (yet)

tries to get jane to do dangerous stuff because she thinks it’ll make her a stronger player

constantly jumps around the timeline because she’s looking for exciting things to do

godtier

arc: meenah really cares about her friends but they all have strained relationships because she spent so long bullying them to make them stronger at the game, so a good place for her arc would be her becoming a good leader but not through like dictatorship and telling them what to do or whatever, but just by learning to better utilize how she cares and lead by supporting them. not feeling the need to steal things and gain power or something

aranea:

trollhandle: ????Avicularia (GA)

avicularia - genus of spiders, specifically tarantulas. idk i thought it sounded cool

godtier

mastermind behind the dirkjake kiss

talks to the kids about classpects but like in a calliope way where it’s a little too literal

pushing jake hard to level up since pages are a “weaker class” (in the same vein of vriska with tavros and also john)

while vriska tries to learn a lot about the game so she can cheat to the end, aranea learns a lot about the game so she can know everything and make the best plan to win.

latula:

trollhandle: calibratingGriptape (CG)

calibrating - parallels terezi’s handle

griptape - grip tape is the material on top of a skateboard

prompted to give dirk relationship advice after seeing the dirkjake kiss. she thought it was very cool

even though kankri “took her place” as dirk’s guide, she still ends up helping dirk more because kankri kind of sucks at it

has a lot of thoughts about being pushed out by kankri but is trying not to show it (rad girl facade, etc)

arc: stop putting on the rad girl persona and be herself

porrim:

Trollhandle: antevortianGirl (AG)

antevorta - roman goddess of childbirth and prophecy

girl - #girl

serves as roxy’s guide/patron troll during the game. helps her with actual game stuff as opposed to meulin who helps her with interpersonal stuff

arc: stop infantalizing everyone below her on hemospectrum, something something matriorb

damara

trollhandle: (AA)

maybe talks to jane about how jake keeps telling her about their relationship and asking for advice, is just like “yeah, it sucks huh”

maybe drops the LE stuff during the alpha session? still causing problems on purpose though

not very invested in the kids, mostly causing problems on the meteor

she gets knocked out before she can doom the timeline, porrim (shes her main friend and also mom stuff) carries her to the door with the group. damara wakes up already locked in the meteor. maybe scratch messages her and tells her she failed and is also like really creepy like always. and then she watches jane stuff and is just like. yeah no this is the worst

jane and damara parallels. they are there

arc: recognize that others have gone through same stuff as her (jane), reject le, tell rufioh to knock it off (probably remain friends after that)(roxy helps), doesn’t have to forgive everyone else for their treatment of her if she doesn’t want to

rufioh:

trollhandle: (TA)

something something dirkjake parallels

dude’s a mess

mituna:

trollhandle: (AT)

actually stands up to cronus

still dubiously godtier

kurloz

trollhandle: (CT)

the stuff kurloz is involved in relates to see no evil (mituna) hear no evil (meulin) speak no evil (kurloz) but according to fridgestuck theres a fourth that's sometimes smell no evil (latula).

also caused cronus’s rejection of magic and belief in the prophecy

meulin and mituna friendship arc

something something kurloz is in charge of black ships and the conflict resolution quadrant is a black ship and kurloz is actively sabotaging them and maybe this is why they can't fix any of their problems at some point we gotta figure out what to do with him

roxy probably suspects somethings up with him (close to meulin and would recognize that she seems forgetful after seeing him, batterwitch), would probably be frustrated that meulin doesn’t believe her but would find ways to keep her away from him

crisis of faith when interacting with humans, leads to him ditching clown religion. no idea where that goes from there

someone figures out the mind control and other stuff, meulin, mituna, and cronus can decide if they forgive him or not

cronus

trollhandle: (AC)

roxy has a conversation with cronus, its bad

he literally JUST dropped the wizard act within the last year or so, so seeing her wizard stuff he probably makes fun of her or something

hates jake because he’s the hero of hope that might take over his place in the prophecies he felt entitled to

jake messes with him about human culture like the “telling caliborn what gay means” thing

leads to him losing ALL hope, leading to mituna fight

cronus hits on all of them and brings up the fact he is humankin a lot

gets the idea to be humankin from watching the timelines, was probably still doing the wizard thing until that moment, or had picked up a different persona in the session and switched to human then

arc: downward spiral from hopelessness (jake), become somewhat less of an asshole

beta humans

stuck in a void session for 6 years

in communication with the cherubs

egbert:

sprite:

 pre-retcon: ?? + ??

post-retcon: meulin + dirksprite (after reunion)

acting like there are no problems while actively looking at many problems

june realization at some point

rose:

sprite:

pre-retcon: ?? + ??

post-retcon: roxy + frigglishsprite (after reunion)

having a crisis about relevance

is painfully aware that this session is basically set up to make them lose their minds

drinking arc (mom’s alcohol in house)

dave:

sprite: crow + doomed dave

plays with time loops a little but realizes he’s making eternity even longer so stops unless necessary

still does a lot of reflection about bro since he'd still be around people who care about him

coming out: rose knows pre-game but they probably never officially told each other. maybe he tells her in like year 1 or 2. but he doesn't come out to the others until he's like 17 at least probably. davesprite too

at some point he grows out his hair really long, but it’s totally not to look like nic cage so a certain someone who loves nic cage might be interested who would do that

(crushing big time on egbert)

jade:

sprite: bec + dream jade

happy to be around her friends and not trapped on an island, but she is also super frustrated that it isn't like what she saw in her dreams

first one to snap after keeping her frustration bottled up. after that, rose sets a rule that they have to be honest to avoid more of that. (obviously they don’t stick to that very well)

i guess she godtiers at some point to be dog

cherubs

calliope:

friendly to all of them

probably just similar to how she was to the alphas

(she probably still has to die 🙁)

they will save her

caliborn:

jeers dave the most

is upset that he is not like alpha male

kickstarts dave’s de-masculinity stuff

asks dave for art of his friends

dave just changes the colors of the making this happen picture

platonically hates all of them. if he does the "you're attractive and ugly" thing like with jane, that's at jade

egbert really hates his art

similar to the alphas, mostly focuses on the boys and avoids/is creepy to the girls. probably pissed about june stuff cus he sucks

[morfanerina]

Been seeing this DonSagi ship around and I gotta say, because I automatically think a ship with Sagi is of TMNT 2003, those two certainly had a memorable meet-cute with Don accusing Usagi of harming his brother.

This led me to this TMNT 2003 DonSagi setup

- Leo and Usagi are bff. Even if they act fruity it's just how they are, its completely platonic.

- Usagi visited Leo several times and started to really know each brother - including gentle Donnie, who will fight if he has to and for his family but prefers pacifism.

- Leo will brag about his brothers at the drop of a hat and Usagi always perks up when Donnie comes up.

- Usagi admits his crush on Donnie to Leo stiffly, unsure how the protective leader would react to it. Leo's only hesitance about it was on how Donnie might not feel the same and how it might hurt them if it didn’t work out.

- Usagi didn't ask Splinter's permission for courting beforehand because Leo suggested to wait to see whether his brother would be interested first. Diminish the amount of awkwardness all around. Just in case.

- While those two are scheming on how to get Donnie's attention without the whole ninja family nosing in, said family literally thinks those two (Leo and Usagi) are dating in secret. Mikey already has most of the wedding planned, Raph and Casey have their shovel talks ready and rehearsed and poor Donnie is angsting over having a crush on his brother’s "soulmate".

- Splinter thought LeoSagi was the end goal too but his telenovela instincts are tingling so he decided to wait and see. Besides, he knows Usagi, the rabbit would ask his permission before dating his son.

- April is the one who discovers about Donnie’s crush and is extremely sympathetic. She's also a bit suspicious about this sure relationship the rest of the family has fabricated so she manages to get Leo alone and subtly ask about it.

- I need you to imagine the most baffled look on a mutant turtle's face as Leo registers the question. Obviously he isn't in a relationship with Usagi??? Where did she get that idea??? (the swords exchange, the way you greet each other? she almost says)

- Eventually Leo blurts out Usagi likes Donnie to April.

- April's ecstatic and decides to not spill the beans about the mutual crush, instead joining in the increasingly elaborate scheming.

- And by joining in I mean wrangling the teenagers into a simple and direct plan instead of complex 20 steps or more as Usagi was planning.

- Donnie is very much sad and trying to not be in the same room as Usagi because he doesn't want to get in the way of his brother's relationship and it hurts :( also bc drama

- This makes it exceedingly difficult for any of the plans to succeed so of course it has to be an unplanned confession in a chaotic saving the world situation.

- Donnie's bafflement and asking about the supposed romanting LeoSagi gets him two twin baffled looks.

- Mikey and Raph join in with very confused "but weren't you two together????"

- Leo decides to take those two away so Donnie and Usagi could talk. Also he needs to lecture two turtles about assumptions.

- DonSagi get together... once Usagi gets Splinter's blessing and shovel talk.

[chubs-deuce]

What do you think of time travel, my friend?

Because personally i think it's a mixed bag that comes with risk.

In the movie for Trollhunters, Rise Of Titans, I am not going to spoil it that much.

But basically the whole fandom hated the fact that the ending involved a reset back to the beginning where everything started and I am not going go into much detail, other then it look like more stuff for the series was coming but this movie is supposedly the final installment and so far, there are no news.

I believe time travel can work but at the same time, if there is no continuation or written badly, then I don't think it's worth the risk to add that kind of plot to a story.

oh yeah wholeheartedly agreed!!!

it sucks when a story just goes "jk here's a reset" at the end when using time travel stuff :/

There are honestly very few pieces of media that imo managed to make it work well so it's always disappointing when such an interesting concept is tackled and then botched, either as an easy way out or a pointless plot device that affects nothing as substantially as it should...

I'm ngl if there's one thing I can praise homestuck of all things for is how it managed to handle time travel within its plot bc I have yet to see another piece of media handle it that well!

I mean the entire concept of the comic is four kids who play a game that turns out to actually be part of the universe's natural rebirth cycle and the exploration of all that comes with that.

For example- the Big Bad Guy is an unkillable time demon and is the result of a self-causing paradox that involves him getting trapped in an artifact that is then sent back in time (it was the only way to keep him from breaking reality as a whole), which then also directly causes its own creation later.

A lot of homestuck's character interactions also happen non-linearly throughout time, since one group of characters for example had computer terminals that allowed them to chat with the other group at any chosen point in the other group's timeline, which caused some funny self-fulfilling chats where one character already knew the outcome of the chat he would have in the other character's future, then griping about it to them and directly becoming the reason it would be going that way.

There's also characters like Dave, who can hop back and forth in time at will, but this comic also actually happens to respect the paradoxical nature of running into your past and/or future self if you do that and stay in the same area, which is something he actively exploited to grind for resources quicker. One of the things he was then shown to struggle with was that sometimes he'd mess up and find a corpse of a future instance of himself, something he'd then have to keep track of and actively prevent from fulfilling.

What I like especially about this is that it's not only logical, but some of the splintered timelines that branch off as a result of him preventing his own death is acknowledged as something that continues to exist off-screen, we as the readers are just led to keep following the timeline where he survives.

Speaking of- Homestuck also played around with several alt timelines that all played a distinct role in the story's outcome, even the infinite amount of "doomed" ones that had their whole cast die for one reason or another got acknowledged due to the nature of the setting allowing for the ghosts of the dead characters to collect in a tangible space that could be physically passed through with a space ship or accessed through dreams. You had characters chatting with their dead selves from other timelines and even ones that created the universe of the characters that created the main cast-

Like-

It's getting complicated as fuck, but there was clearly so much thought put into not only tackling a terribly obtuse and complex fictional concept, but also into exploring all of the possible little butterfly effect scenarios that happen naturally as a direct consequence - and it was done ridiculously well, in ways that I still am in awe about so many years later.

Sorry for going off on a rant there, it's just a really interesting topic that I appreciate getting explored properly and I 100% undertand your gripes with media that doesn't do it justice, which is often ;w;

[deusexlachina]

Wannabe Warden Part 17: Utterly humiliate the Grey Wardens with my superior darkspawn-slaying skills

In which I am still not deemed worthy of the Grey Wardens despite saving three of them, plus another of Warden Morwen's friends.

After melting enemies left and right with the superior and better one-handed axe, I quickly rack up a vast fortune. Naturally, I spend almost all of it on more equipment to make me even stronger - Four-Fingered Eddie's Lucky Talisman. Unlike in Origins, most items have no description, so I can only imagine he's Four-Fingered Eddie because the amulet gave him so many critical hits he cut his finger clean off slicing onions.

This goes well with the other piece of crit-tastic murder jewellery I spent the rest of my money on back in Act 2 - the puzzle ring of...the BLACK FOX! AHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Unlike poor Four-Fingered Eddie, there are codex entries describing who the Black Fox is and what his puzzle rings might be, but why read the book when you can watch the movie? With these magic charms and a good head start, only the sprightliest sprite, the nimblest elf, the wickedest witch or the devil himself can withstand my near-constant stream of critical hits. Speaking of critical hits and the nimblest elf, I encounter Zevran, Warden Morwen's murderin' chum. Anders recognizes him. From the stories. They never actually fought together.

Zevran explains that he's being hunted by the Antivan Crows, again, despite the fact that Warden Morwen did several jobs for the Crows in exchange for them backing off from her, the Couslands, and Zevran in particular. Maybe these Crows are a splinter group, or maybe assassins tell lies to people.

Unfortunately for the Crows, they're the "Coterie" enemy type, which is weak to spirit damage, aka the purple numbers that cloud the air whenever I look at someone funny. Worse, with my newfound knowledge of one-handers, I respec Other Aveline into a pure DPS battering ram and hand her the other, only slightly less broken, spirit axe. What's she trying to do, steal my look? Some people. Anyway, we win, and Zevran has a reward for me.

I'm excited now. As a good friend of the Warden-Commander, Zevran would make an excellent job reference for Being A Grey Warden. Unfortunately, the reward is a dagger, which is already obsolete because only Isabela can use them and she has better ones. Isabela is so insulted at this vendor trash that she asks for makeup sex despite unilaterally claiming me as a girlfriend. But threesomes are Isabela's hobby, so I oblige my yandere pirate lover and she gets to be stuck in a compromising position between two deadly fighters, which is usually how combat with her turns out.

Other Aveline sees us propositioning each other and throws up a little in her mouth that we're talking about having sex with each other right in front of her. It's an easy mistake, I thought she didn't mind that kind of thing since she asked me to vicariously seduce her direct subordinate, and no, she is not living that down three years later.

I'm thinking more clearly now, but I'm not satisfied, and not just because Zevran kept crying out "I still remember MY first battle! Hahaha!" But I get another chance to prove myself to the Wardens. Warden Nathaniel Howe, who is moderately nicer than his dad who killed Morwen's family, is missing in the Deep Roads, so I go rescue him.

This is more difficult than I remember because these aren't your average, everyday, darkspawn. These are advanced darkspawn. I wonder who made this sidequest so overtuned before I remember that it was me, because I thought it would be fun to have both Nightmare Ultra difficulty and nastier darkspawn. It's just like the escape from Lothering. Except this time, the roles are reversed. I can do thousands of damage in a second, so it's their turn to run screaming from me.

This is for Wesley! This is for all three of my buddies who got mangled trying to keep up with the dozens of advanced darkspawn I'm mowing down! And, most of all...this is for Carver!

But I'm not the only one avenging Carver. Bethany is also here, fighting the good fight. Unfortunately, she's not doing as well as she does with me, because the Wardens unwisely armed her with a fire staff. Curiously, she gets a nature staff exclusively if she's not a Warden, despite nature being twice as effective as fire against darkspawn. See, this is why Bethany needs me. And why the Wardens need me.

She introduces me as her sister. (Or I WAS her sister...before she got THE BLIGHT!!!) I miss her, but she can't let herself miss the family.

Once again, she manages to make everyone feel uncomfortable - not just with her bleak words, but also by steadily zooming in on her face, closer and closer. JUST LIKE THE TAINT IN HER VEINS.

But I have saved her life, and that of Nathaniel. And some other guy who made bombs that were supposed to help fight the darkspawn but these ones are so powerful that explosives barely tickle them. Because of me, Nathaniel will see his sister and nephew again. And - seeing how I wiped out the darkspawn more than ten times faster than all three actual Wardens present - he has a fitting reward for me.

I reach out my hand, waiting for a notice of Conscription, and receive a longsword, which is already obsolete because only people named Aveline can use longswords and we both have much better weapons already.

[feyofmay]

Hello!! I absolutely love your writing and was so excited to see your requests are open!! 💛 I was wondering if i could request a platonic amy march x reader (gn or fem is absolutely fine) with the prompt "i missed you so much". i was imagine maybe reader had been travelling for a while or just hadn't been spending much time with amy recently, and they both miss eachother alot and just have a fluffy reunion! though of course feel free to go whichever direction inspiration takes you!!!! (i also don't mind whether its just best friends or reader and amy are siblings, though i am very biased to the latter)

Even if you don't end up writing this, thank you so much for the things you have written because I'm absolutely in love with them!!!! and of course an extra big thank you if you do write this!!!!

— aubrey!! (@yokolesbianism/aubeystawby) 💛💛

AWWW tysm!! Literally you’re the sweetest & it warms my tiny little heart!! Of course I will write your little request, but I made it a little different. (for flavor ;0)

Word Count: ~800

(not edited, so there’s some grammatical errors. sorry not sorry)

The ache of the youth spent in the twisting thorns of blackberries & dashing madly down dusty paths like deer fleeing from the maw of a greater beast is not felt until, when waking up one morning, her bones are stiff & wooden. As if, if she were to bend her elbow, she could hear a creaking sound from the rusty nail between her two joints. Ever since Amy had left for France to pursue her dream of becoming a great artist,- one who, in her triumphant cries, “would rival Renoir and Boticelli and Thomas Lawrence!”- y/n, the youngest March, has awoken to the splintering ache of an accosted youth.

To say she misses her sisters is an understatement to the highest degree. Everything is far too quiet without the constant chirping of her sisters, a never ending symphony of adolescent conundrums & complaints. Once an eternal twilight, with her sisters playing the role of singing cicadas, the morning had risen with their departure from the best. Several things, which she previously thought were silent, have now shed their fear, & the appliances remind her of her creaking bones with their squeals & whines. The only thing that ever eased her mind was Beth’s piano, a reminder that, although her sisters have grown, she still remains young & a girl.

However, one early morning, the noise of chittering like field mice in a barn snuck in from underneath her door. Like a puppet, her wooden bones acted in the same order that they always have. Planting her feet on the ground, she threw her- well, it was first Marmee’s, then Meg’s, and then Jo found it far too “girlish”, so it was lastly Amy’s- shawl, a soft blue & green woolen piece, to keep herself from freezing in the morning sun.

“Marmee! What’s with all the clamor?” Y/N shouts out as she rubs the last grains of dreams quickly forgotten, a gift from Sandman in the night. Their voice is scratchy like an itchy wool scary as they waddle toward their door. Before Marmee can even consider replying, a shrill squeal fills the house.

“Sister! How I’ve missed you!” the shriek makes the wallpaper curl into itself, & the pounding noise of, what can only be assumed to be, heavy iron weights plummeting onto their creaking wooden stairs grows closer & closer to the half-awake Y/N. Immediately recognizing that voice before she can even register the smell of fresh air streaming in from her open window or the sticky feeling of morning dew on her face, Y/N snatches the door knob & swings it open wildly with reckless abandon.

There, standing before her, in a voluminous, almost cartoonishly large crinoline skirt with tiers upon tiers of ruffles & lace-trimming in differing shades of porcelain blue & silver, her sister & part of her soul, Amy, stands before her like a statue carved from marble & opal. With a toothy grin that reminds Y/N of all the long summer days spent rolling around in the vibrant green grass by the meadow, Any doesn’t waste a second as she barrels towards Y/N & catapults her arms around her little sister, who is unsure if she’s simply still dreaming or actually awake.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you! I’ve missed you so so dearly! All I could think of was how I wished you were beside me. Oh, I’ve so much to tell you! ” Amy rambles on as she digs her face into the nest of locks that rests upon her sister’s head like a rabbit burying into fresh earthen dirt. Curling her fingers around the poofy & seemingly floating sleeves that hug Amy’s sleeves in ways Y/N didn’t know was even possible, the cool touch of the soft, buttery linen kisses her fingers like a distant memory of childhood that’s been lost to the breeze. The fabric leaves a tingling sensation that reminds her of the bells that decorate the Church during Christmas time.

As the folds of linen ripple between her fingers, it’s then she finally feels her mind recenter. The colors around her bloom like the first day of spring, & everything falls into focus. Amy is back. She is real & home & here, in her arms. Slowly, Y/N tepidly wraps her arms around her sister & presses her face into the fabric of her dress. Something hot dribbles down her cheeks, & her silent tears collapse into Amy’s dress. The rust melts off of her joints as she feels her youth soak back into her bones. Her sister, her person, is home.

“I missed you, as well, sister.”

[findmeinthefallair]

Lol Hunter is not only very comparable to each main or supporting character in Owl House, but also damn comparable to other blorbos.

Anyway I visited my demon son Akira in some episodes of 2018's Devilman Crybaby..

(this anime is dark, sad, violent at times, thrilling and bleak...also do not watch it unless you're alone because it can get pretty NSFW too)

Wild hair? Dark T-shirts? Sad bois:

And I was reminded that looking at other stories and similar cases can strengthen my headcanons and metas. Referring to The Hunger Games, since its protagonist and Hunter have the same mental health condition, could convince me that Hunter will spiral into extensive depression after Belos's death before he shows signs of recovery.

But..I hadn't given serious thought to rage being one of Hunter's several grief responses after Watching and Dreaming's final battle..not till now. 🤔🤔🤔

Because Akira is a darn similar personality to Hunter: very gentle, empathetic (in fact, Akira is an empath, literally experiencing other people's emotional pain, feeling it for them when they don't really want to..hence the show's title). And Akira has also never wanted to harm another person. You'd initially expect gentle souls like this to like, never get angry.

After Akira's mother passes away in traumatic circumstances, his behaviour is such that he puts up a front to appear fine but he isn't holding it together well..

It's not visually shown but from the first person perspective of Miki (his best friend) looking at her ceiling, she and the audience can hear him screaming in rage and breaking objects in his bedroom right above hers. Right after their chat on the balcony (shown in the previous screenshot). It's one of his bereavement responses. But this rage only comes out when he's in his own space, not with anybody else around.

Idk..now I wouldn't put it past a poor grieving Hunter in the early months of those 3-4 years, to have at least one very unexpected explosion of rage after some bad trigger comes along. He might subconsciously feel safe enough in the company of the Noceda family, that he'd create a mess in Luz's basement in a frenzy like that. It would happen so fast, seemingly out of nowhere. Of course, he'll feel so awful and guilty after expending that energy, shocked at himself and disgusted with himself. And/or it may happen if he decides to visit the castle ruins.

Or....(and this is sadder but idek)..what if it happens in the early days of him learning the palisman-carving craft? He wouldn't touch and destroy anything made from palistrom wood but some other objects might be pushed off shelves or something. Hunter is someone with a long fuse, but a lot of little frustrations building up could light that fuse. In the case of the carving workshop, him making mistakes and getting splinters on his hands in the process of learning...that might leave him frustrated enough to have a one-off temper flare. He'll feel awful but Dell is very kind and would treat him so well and help him.

I was also told by friends that Hunter would feel very off balance with no more staff to use, since he relied on staffs for so much of his life that they'd feel like an extension of his own body. With no staff, the sense of his physical center would feel different and I wonder if this might feed into frustration that is part of his general grief...to the point that this frustration does indeed build up into a brief rage explosion at some point.

Like Akira, he'd definitely not direct that at any person or living thing. But inanimate objects might be destroyed. 🤔🤔🤔

Our bodies sometimes do instinctive but frightening things out of nowhere to release emotions and attempt to restore psychological balance, and it can happen in a flash. Wails that you can't control which escape your chest, keening, or heaving with sobs, and in this case anger and rage. Anger is the most immediate natural response when our boundaries are crossed. Rage is an especially big outcry after we have been violated, fueled by fear and grief.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

How Would The Two Of You Work Through A Problem?

BatmanVsTmnt!Turtles x reader

Warnings: Spelling

Leonardo:

As a boyfriend, Leo is the epitome of chivalry and loyalty. He's the one who plans thoughtful surprises, whether it's a rooftop dinner overlooking the city or a quiet movie night in the lair. His protective nature extends to your well-being, and he's always there to offer a strong and steady presence. Leonardo values communication and is open to discussing anything, making sure you feel heard and understood.

Yet Leo can be moody and quiet when something is bothering him. He may not hold grudges, but he will remember things that have happened. It can take him quite some time before he opens up about a problem, and when it happens it’s usually when he’s about to explode and meditation doesn’t help anymore. You often have to remind him that people aren’t mind readers, and if he has a problem he needs to communicate it.

Leo knows it’s a problem and actively works on it. He had found that dairies often helps him. With time he becomes better at communicating when something is bothering him. It usually starts with him telling you he needs a hug or a moment alone, before he ever so slowly explains what’s going on in his head. Raph didn’t listen to him, and that day it hurt him emotionally. Mikey broke his gift from Master Splinter, and even though it was an accident he took it personally. You didn’t catch it last night when he told you he loved you, and he knows you probably just didn’t hear him, but he started to overthink. With practice it becomes easier for him, and he is forever grateful that you was patient with him. You spend long hours with him, talking through his feelings about his brother's actions, before he would talk to them himself, calm and collective.

Raphael:

Raph, is a fiercely protective boyfriend with a soft spot for you. He's not one for grand gestures, but his actions speak louder than words. Raphael is the one who stands up for you when needed, and his loyalty is unwavering. Underneath the tough exterior, he cares deeply and expresses his love through actions, whether it's training together or silently sharing a quiet moment.

But if there’s one thing Raph has issues with, it’s trust issues. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, because he does, but he doesn’t trust the people around you. Steven at work complimented you? Alex from class asked you for a pen? Well, Raph will tell you what he thinks about it, often with colorful words. It has caused sarcastic comments and screaming matches between the two of you.

It was after one particularly bad argument that you and Raph came to the agreement that it couldn’t go on like that. You and him would say things you didn’t mean in the heat of the moment, hurting both of you. It wasn’t easy to start the conversation, but both of you wanted to fix this before it could ruin more than it already had. You talked about what caused the arguments, and how you both felt about it. Both of you gave each other time to speak out, listening closely and patiently at what the other had to say. You talked about Raph’s insecurities when it came to the human guys from school and work you told him about, and how it made him feel. You talked about how you felt like Raph didn’t trust you, when in actuality his anger and insecurities was directed at them. It was a conversation the two of you would have several times. Not because you guys didn’t listen, but because it was nice. It helped Raph feel more secure in his own feelings by voicing them, and it helped you gain a greater insight into his emotions.

Donatello:

Donnie, the tech genius, is a caring and supportive boyfriend. He's the type to stay up late working on a project just to make a gadget that would make your life easier. His passion for knowledge extends to understanding you on a deep level, and he's a great listener. Donatello is always ready to help you solve problems, and his sense of humor adds a lightness to the relationship.

Donnie will often focus on fixing the problem instead of listening to what the problem is. You deeply appreciate it and adore him for trying, but sometimes you just need him to sit down and listen to what you’re feeling, without telling you what you should do about it, along with the numbers behind his thoughts and how he came to the conclusion. You know it’s just him trying to help, but it is not what you need at that moment. Donnie couldn’t help but get a little hurt whenever you told him not to talk about numbers and facts.

Finally you and Donnie have a sit down and talk about it. You’re looking for emotional support in these deep personal conversations to feel comfort, and Donnie found comfort in facts and things that could be observed. You agreed to use scales to measure emotions before talking about them. Are you sad? From 1 - 10, 1 being just a little down, and 10 being all the way down in the dumps. That would always make it way easier for Donnie to go into the conversation and be the supporter you needed in that moment. After each you would give each other feedback. Did you feel validated? Did Donnie feel validated? Did one of you accidentally cross a boundary? It is not easy talking about these things, but both you and Donnie are ready to work hard in order to make your relationship work, and to make sure that both of you feel emotionally validated.

Michelangelo:

Mikey is the fun-loving and adventurous boyfriend. Every day with him feels like an exciting journey, filled with laughter and spontaneity. He's the master of surprises, planning impromptu pizza picnics on rooftops or midnight skateboard sessions through the city. Michelangelo's positivity is infectious, and he's the one who can turn a mundane day into an unforgettable adventure.

But sometimes Mikey will do before he thinks. He doesn’t do it out of ill intent and often just doesn’t think about how his actions may affect others. Will eat the leftover pizza you had been dreaming about all day at work or school? He had done that quite a few times. Will do five hours of video games instead of doing that one thing you asked him to do? You had stopped counting, and honestly it made you mad quite a few times.

But how did you and Mikey get through this minor struggle in your relationship, that ever so slowly has started taking up more space in your day to day lives and daily conversations? Both of you realized it might have something to do with Mikey’s ADHD tendencies, which led the two of you to your next question. How do you help a person with undiagnosed and untreated ADHD in their daily life? Well, you couldn’t stop Mikey from eating the pizza, but he did agree on getting you a new one when you came home. That greatly improved both of your moods, especially when he would come back with an extra one for himself, so the two of you could eat together. But when it came to doing daily tasks, you and Mikey took it one step at the time. Post It notes didn’t help much, and neither did a checklist. But body doubling did wonders! You could be sitting in the kitchen doing work or homework, and Mikey would get the dishes done in no time. As long as you were nearby, he found it way easier to overcome whatever task the two of you had agreed on.

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

A/N: The lack of Batman Vs Tmnt gif's on the internet is making me slightly agitated.

[xoxardnekoxo]

Movie Review: TMNT Mutant Mayhem

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD!

Ah, Ninja Turtles. My childhood superheroes... oh who am I kidding, my eternal superheroes. :D This fabsome foursome debuted in 1987, the same year I was born, so I literally grew up watching the franchise. The series has gotten several reboots over the last three decades, and it's still going strong. The hype now is around the latest installment, Mutant Mayhem, created by Seth Rogen.

So, confession - when I first heard details about this movie and saw promo images, I was NOT on board. The art style is amateur at best, and yet another one of my beloved childhood redheaded characters has been black washed. First Ariel, now April? If we could stop doing that, that would be great... I'm totally okay with her being heavyset and more realistic in terms of body. We could all use THAT type of PC upgrade for beloved classic characters. But at least keep them the same race we've always known them to be.

But enough about that. It wasn't just the art style that made me stick my nose up in disgust at yet another remake of my ultimate childhood series. I'm literally a mega fan - my TMNT collection dates back 30+ years and is still growing, and it features some sort of item from every series thus far (with the exception of Rise... because even I can't get on board with that one). I'm talking figures, plushes, clothes, jewelry, hats, backpacks, bookmarks, magnets, buttons, piggy banks, etc. You name it, I've got it in TMNT form. So I'm very passionate about the show and can be quite critical of changes to it.

Which is why when I was starting to get past the art style, I was appalled to learn that not only would Shredder not be the main antagonist this time around, he wouldn't even be referenced at all.

Uh... yeah, we all know - we've known since 1984, when the comics came out - that Shredder is THE villain of the turtles. That's the one thing that's been consistent with every franchise (except The Next Mutation, but he at least made an appearance in that, albeit for a brief time). Instead, the bad guy is a hideous creature called Superfly. Kind of a double play on words considering he's literally a giant mutant fly with fancy/classy/fast cars and an entire mutant army and crime baddies at his disposal.

And Splinter? OMG, what did they DO to him? His face looks like someone splattered vegetables on the sidewalk. I see a squashed tomato/potato where his nose should be, and his "beard" is like the top of broccoli or a garlic clove. (shudder) And let's not get into the fact that, when the turtles were kids, he had a freaking Afro and a mustache. The turtles are meant to be 15 in this time, which would make the year roughly 2008 when they were kids, so the 70s look was way dated at that time.

Then we get more great news... not only are we now race-swapping characters; we're also gender-swapping them. Leatherhead and Wingnut, while minor characters throughout every iteration, are now girls instead of guys.

Leatherhead has always been an ally to the turtles, except in the original series, and considering the direction this movie took, I have to wonder if the writers thought it would be inappropriate to make them enemies because it would show teen guys beating up a girl. I mean, "beating up" may be a stretch, but you get what I mean. And Wingnut has always been super annoying to me, so I would have been okay had she not been in the movie at all. But I digress.

Okay, so, plot. Since Shredder isn't the main villain, the plot isn't the usual "stop Shredder from conquering Earth" thing. The movie starts with Baxter Stockman raising a giant mutant baby fly - in a crib and all - in a lab surrounded by test tubes of animals. Yeah, I didn't make that up. Animals of all different species and sizes are somehow shrunken down to conveniently fit inside a test tube.

Some heavy-duty suit guys break in and grab Stockman to take all his research at the behest of a mysterious woman named Cynthia Utrom. We know from prior series and lore that the Utroms are the alien race that created the ooze that caused the mutations of, well, all mutants. Utrom looks like a woman here, but she could be wearing a human suit like in the 2003 series. We don't know, and we don't find out.

Anyway, the baby fly escapes and takes out all the suits because, well, he's super strong and inhuman. And he has wings. He manages to grab all Stockman's test tubes and book it out of there, and then we fast forward to 15 years later where we meet our protagonists. Their current mission? To acquire necessities for the lair from a list given to them by Splinter. So they do this and they're like, "Hey, we've only been gone for a little bit. Let's go check out the outdoor movie playing in the park." So then we get to see them watching Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Yep, a live action movie in a CGI movie with art that's literally meant to resemble sketches like kids would draw.

So then they get back to the lair but Leo guiltily confesses that they all went to watch a movie in close proximity to humans. We're then introduced to the origin story of the turtles and Splinter, and while we're all familiar with it, it's slightly different this time. Splinter was a normal rat before, but he wasn't anyone's pet. He was a typical NYC rat, hated by humans (and raccoons... and dogs...) and one day he finds himself in the sewers and comes upon four baby turtles crawling around in green ooze. This ooze had come from a canister kicked into a sewer grate from Stockman's lab earlier. Splinter was shocked that the turtles took right to him, and they were the first and only things to not instantly hate him or want to kill him. So of course he touches the ooze and mutates, as do the turtles. He raises them as his sons, and honestly, I don't recall ever hearing him being called Splinter. All the turtles called him Dad. I don't think we ever knew his name... so if you didn't know of any other TMNT series before this, you'd have no idea what his name was.

Anyway, the turtles, as kids, wanted to go above ground one day, and Splinter thought he'd give it a try. Bad idea, because, of course, everyone freaked out and chased them away. So Splinter vowed to keep his sons safe and refused to let them leave the lair except to get supplies. We're also treated to a montage of cheesy old footage of actual martial arts movies/shows depicting how Splinter trained the turtles in ninjitsu as a means of self defense. He now loathes humans and wants nothing to do with them, and wants the same for his sons.

So after the confession of watching a movie, the turtles get grounded and are all talking in their room about what they'd do if they could be normal. Meanwhile, a crime spree has broken out with mega villain Superfly (yep, that's his name) stealing all kinds of high-tech scientific items... and if anyone sees his face, he kills them.

We're soon introduced to April, who, this time, is not an adult reporter. She's an aspiring reporter in high school, and she's collecting information on the Superfly case because, due to the crime spree, the school's prom has been cancelled and she thinks she can get it back if she solves the mystery of Superfly.

Well, the guys are throwing ninja starts at watermelons (because why not) on the rooftop one night, and one lands in April's helmet. As she's chewing out the shadows on the roof that she can't see, someone steals her scooter. And Leo decides this would be a great time to play hero and get the scooter back for the "beautiful human girl." Yeah, in the 2012 version, Donnie had a crush on April. This time around, apparently it's Leo.

The guys then partake in their first actual fight with bad guys - I'd love to say that I went YES in the theater when a car radio turns on and "Ninja Rap" from the original second movie is playing - and shortly thereafter, April sees them. But she doesn't freak out even when she realizes they're not wearing costumes. She's more interested in getting a story about them for the school newspaper. But of course, considering they aren't supposed to be seen or known about, that won't do. April then tells the guys that, had they not helped her beforehand by getting her scooter back, she probably would have had a much different and more negative reaction to seeing them. This gives the turtles an idea: Become heroes by finding Superfly and bringing him to justice, allow April to get it all on film to showcase them as heroes, and then she can write and submit her story.

April accepts the terms, and the turtles go to her high school with her and are all "ooohh, ahh, we want to go here." They find April's locker, which has been graffitied with things like "puke girl." We're then treated to the ever delightful scene of our female protagonist spewing what looks like green ooze all over a desk because of nerves while giving the morning announcements. Look, I know this is CGI and not real, but that was completely unnecessary. More on that later.

So to get to Superfly, the guys have to interrupt a transfer of goods, i.e. the final piece of some machine Superfly is building for his nefarious plot (which we don't know what it is yet). The guys are waiting in the truck and he shows up... with Bebop and Rocksteady. You remember them. The mutant warthog and rhino, respectively, from 1987 and 2012? Shredder's mutant allies? The ones Shredder created? Yeah, those two. Well, this time, since there is no Shredder, they were created in Stockman's lab. Remember all the animals in test tubes? Yeah, they're all grown now as well, raised by Superfly since he was the oldest. Stockman's plan was to create a family of mutants because he was never liked or understood by people. Superfly's plan is to pick up where his "father" left off... by turning all animals into mutants and killing all humans.

So of course, eventually the turtles manage to turn the tables and attempt to escape with the last piece of the machine Superfly needs to spread the mutagen. But of course, that falls apart and a bunch of Utrom's suits find and capture them. April races back to the lair to tell Splinter that his sons are in trouble... yeah, that's an awkward first meeting. Splinter shows up and takes out all the suits (Utrom has been taken away to safety), saves his sons, and they all start to head back home to come up with a plan to stop Superfly. It results in them basically appealing to all the other mutants, telling them that they don't have to listen to Superfly and that they have a choice. Surprise, surprise, they all turn against the big bad. Even Rocksteady and Bebop, and they're supposed to be villains... I realize their origin is different here, but come on.

Well, everyone takes out the giant mutagen machine... sort of. It lands in the river below, where there are dozens of species of sea life. Yep, you guessed it. Superfly merges with all the animals in the river. He gets a whale body, crab pinchers, some sort of tail, etc. And, for some reason, random horses on his legs. Wha... Oh, and he's now taller than the Empire State Building. Awesome.

Yeah, as if he wasn't ugly enough before LOL. Well, the suits in Utrom's lab had been working on an anti-mutagen, and April managed to swipe one of these canisters... somehow. It didn't really show how, she just did it. Times Square has a huge news report going on about mutants attacking, so April manages to get inside the Channel 6 (yep, the right station!) building to take over the report and explain that she knows the truth - that the only bad mutant is the giant fly/whale hybrid thing. And then she pukes again. Seriously, STOP THAT.

Splinter is trying to get to his sons, but Superfly manages to knock him back hard enough to break his leg. Humans approach, and he's terrified... but they're reaching for him to help him. So then we have humans and mutants working together to get the anti-mutagen to the turtles, who manage to throw it into Superfly's weak spot - the whale blow hole. Yep, that takes care of it. So then the turtles are revered as heroes, and the other mutants are all now living in the sewers with them... and the turtles wind up going to high school. They're got human clothes on, ditch their masks, etc. And all the kids welcome them and think they're super cool. April's locker has been re-graffitied with things like "cool girl" instead of "puke girl," and then the movie just... ends.

Then we get a post-credits scene, showing how the turtles are getting along in high school. Each one seems to have found his niche, and they're even all at the prom together. However, Utrom is watching them, and she says that capturing them will be difficult. So she asks her assistant to bring her... The Shredder! Then we see an outline of Shredder before the scene cuts away. So yeah, totally open for a sequel, as is the norm with movies these days. In fact, a sequel (and TV series) has actually already been confirmed! I mean, honestly, how could Seth Rogen, a self-admitted TMNT addict, create a TMNT movie without at least planning for Shredder to be in it?

So, all in all, it wasn't a bad movie. I appreciate the throwbacks to the original series, and I'm glad to see my favorite heroes getting so much recognition again.

However, there are definitely some things in this movie that weren't necessary. The top of that list is April's barfing scene. She was nervous doing the morning announcements at school and wound up throwing up as a result. Then later, during her news broadcast telling everyone that the only bad mutant is Superfly, she does it again... honestly, I get that we may need a reason for her to rather be behind the camera instead of in front of it, and she needs an obstacle to jump over to tell the people who tease her to suck it, but did it have to be that??? We're showing puke in kids' movies now? Please, just, don't... I don't care that it's a cartoon and looked like the ooze that mutated our beloved heroes. That doesn't mean I want to see it spewing out of someone's mouth. What is it with Seth Rogen and vomit movies? Is it like some unwritten rule that someone has to upchuck in everything he's in? UGH.

Also, this movie is rated PG, but... were all the nipple references necessary? Splinter is legit concerned that, if his sons are found by humans, they'll be put in a lab and milked...and they're like, "But we don't even have nipples!" Then the turtles say the same thing to April when she talks about writing a story about them, and she asks how that could be done for the same reason. Then later, in Utrom's lab, they are getting milked... but, I mean, how... way too much emphasis on that.

And did Splinter seriously need a love interest? With an unintelligible giant bug? Just... why? That's wrong on so many levels.

It was said from the start that this movie would focus mostly on the "teenager" aspect, and it absolutely did that. The guys weren't all serious about ninja training and mastering new techniques; they were more interested in what it would be like to be a normal kid, go to school, go to the prom, etc. And since it's 2023, and because it's Seth Rogen, we have to have some swearing and such, even in a cartoon. Mostly it's by Superfly (aka Ice Cube), so not surprising. But even the original 1990 live action movie had cursing LOL.

You know, I'm almost positive that the turtles never officially introduced themselves to April upon meeting her. She introduced herself, but I don't think they ever identified themselves. The closest we came was in they were in the school and Michelangelo was signing himself up for a talent show. We all know who they are, but a human meeting them for the first time more than likely wouldn't. Hmmm... I think some details got overlooked. Just like how I swear Splinter's name wasn't mentioned once in the entire hour and 49 minutes of the movie's runtime.

Anyway, as a hard-core TMNT fan, I did enjoy the movie. Definitely some things that I would have changed, and others that should have stayed true to the original, but all in all it wasn't bad. I think I can give it 8/10 and be satisfied. :)

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Protector

Chapter One

Author’s Note: Heads up, you should check the trigger warnings on this one.  Also, I’m gonna be in a very different timezone for a while for reasons, so the rest of this story is probably going to come at a different time than what you’re used to.  Enjoy, or don’t, I’m not the boss of you.

Chapter Seventeen:

Remus wasn’t in any of their hiding spots.  He wasn’t there.  Where was he?  He was so hurt already, he couldn’t run on two broken legs, where was he?

Virgil’s own legs were shaking, but he moved towards the living room, where voices were coming from.  As he got closer he heard cruel laughter, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

He moved up to the corner, and he stayed behind it as he peeked out because that was what they’d agreed on, but the second he saw Remus everything in him wanted to throw the rule in the trash and run out there.

Remus was a mess.  Malice and Cruelty were standing in front of him, Positivity was holding him back, and Remus looked too weak to even fight at this point, slumped into Positivity’s arms and colored black and blue.

Virgil’s grip tightened on the corner so tightly that he was pretty sure he’d get splinters.  Both he and Remus were pretty adept at listening for the tiniest things at this point, so he wasn’t surprised when Remus jerked upwards slightly to acknowledge that he knew he was there, but he didn’t actually look in Virgil’s direction, which they’d also agreed on.

Remus was crying, which was a terrible sign.  They were probably tears from the pain, but if he was hurt badly enough to start crying in front of Malice and Cruelty and Positivity, it meant nothing good.

He still wouldn’t want Virgil to rush out there.  Virgil was beginning to seriously consider doing it anyway.

“Alright come on, it’s my turn!” Cruelty snapped, picking up Remus’ morningstar from where it was propped against the wall.  Before anyone could protest, and it looked like Malice had been about to, he swung it directly into Remus’ face, and Remus screamed.

Virgil couldn’t take it anymore with that, and he leapt out from behind the corner.  No one turned to face him though, because Remus very suddenly jerked upright in a way that seemed to surprise the rest of them.

He looked up and directly at Virgil with wide eyes, and Virgil had just enough time to realize that something was very wrong before Remus went limp.  It was fast enough that it seemed to surprise Positivity into dropping him, but before he hit the floor Remus’ body vanished.

Later, Virgil would describe it as a roaring in his ears and seeing red, but that was just what he’d say to make Remus feel better.  In reality, it was much closer to a ringing than a roaring in his ears, along with a numbness in his chest, and an overwhelming feeling that nothing would ever matter again.

He blinked, and he was standing over Positivity’s body.  He blinked again, and there were Malice and Cruelty, looking stunned.  Blinked a third time and it was just Malice, and then one more blink and he was dead too, and Virgil’s scythe was soaked in blood.

He thought for a moment that he’d missed someone, because it sounded like someone was screaming in pain, but then Positivity, then Cruelty, and then Malice all disappeared, and Virgil realized the screaming was coming from him.

He thought briefly about following Remus, but he knew pretty quickly that he couldn’t.  Thomas had lost four sides in the blink of an eye, and while all four of them were pretty far buried in the subconscious, Virgil wasn’t.  Thomas knew about him.  It would affect Thomas much more severely if he died too.

That didn’t mean Thomas wasn’t severely affected.  He found it significantly harder to come up with creative ideas, and Roman was beating himself up about it.  He was less angry at, well, anything really.  That mixed with being less apathetic, which had been Positivity’s original function before he changed his name, made him incredibly sensitive to anything that even slightly hurt.

But most significantly, Thomas felt less anxiety than he had in years, to an almost dangerous degree.  He had to be reminded often by Logan to look both ways before crossing the street, he had to be needled by Roman to make himself presentable, he had to be held back from going along with every single thing Patton said, he had to be forced by Janus to take care of himself and shower and brush his teeth.

And Virgil was trying.  He honestly was.  But he felt so alone and Remus was gone and what was the point?

That is, he couldn’t see the point until he stumbled over Remus’ body in the commons one morning about a week later and nearly broke his nose landing on his face.

He scrambled back so he could hold his baby brother, running his hands all over his arms and his face and his legs that no longer felt broken and tried to satisfy the desperate screaming hope in his chest with knowledge from his five senses that Remus was real, he was here, how was he here?

Virgil put his hand up near his nose and felt his breathing, and somehow that seemed to kick his brain into gear, because he pulled Remus to his chest and sobbed into his hair, and started whispering to Remus as if he could hear him that it was going to be okay, Virgil was here now, he was here and Remus was going to be okay, Virgil was going to take care of him.

Then he turned around and saw Positivity’s body lying on the floor, and that kicked the rest of his brain into gear.

Sides… sides could not die.  Not for good.  And now every single one of them was going to know that.

Oh.

Fuck.

Virgil picked up Remus and ran.

…

Virgil scrambled awake tangled in his blankets, gasping and reaching out as if Remus was still in his arms and that was all that was required to know whether or not he was safe, except it wasn’t, because he wasn’t safe at all.

Virgil tried to reach for his dream journal, but his hands were shaking, and now the memory was combining with the terror that had been in the nightmare and Virgil couldn’t breathe.

Logan.  Where was Logan, he didn’t even care if he owed him back later or if Logan got irritated when he woke him up, he needed help.

Virgil practically fell off the bed trying to climb out of it, and pushed his way over to the door, as he was definitely too shaken to sink out.  He made it out the door, but Logan’s room was all the way across the commons and he was shaking all over and it felt like he was about to collapse.

He leaned back against the wall, trying to figure out any way to calm himself down.  He didn’t have his dream journal, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to make it to Logan’s room.

Virgil tried to breathe in for four seconds, but he was shaking too much, and he couldn’t stop thinking about how scared Remus had looked right before he died for the very first time.

It had taken almost another week for Remus to wake up after Virgil had found him again, and he hadn’t really stopped looking scared throughout that time, even if he was asleep.  He’d also been incredibly fragile throughout.  It still took a while after he woke up to start feeling like himself again, and unfortunately around that same time the others started to as well.  It had been a really bad day for both of them.  It had taken less time to wake up and recover the more often they died, but the first time had been bad.

Unsurprisingly, the others had all come after Virgil in revenge, which meant Remus had to spend a couple weeks guarding him in return once he came back.

It hadn’t taken them long to realize the kind of long-term damage that could be caused by getting hurt while recovering from a death.  Suffice to say, Virgil and Remus both had some scars that were never going away, even if they died again.

Right now, though, Virgil was mostly just trying not to pass out from lack of oxygen.  He’d managed to sit down against the wall, but that was about the limit of where his abilities ended.  He was breathing too quickly.  He might just have to ride this one out.

He pressed his hands to his forehead and leaned his head down in them, trying to breathe at least through the shaking.  It wasn’t working very well, and he couldn’t stop thinking about Remus and that wasn’t doing anything for the nerves that were still churning in his stomach.

He was fine, Remus was fine, every single time he’d checked on him he’d been sleeping, so by balance of probability and all that bullshit Logan said, Remus would be fine.

There were always going to be exceptions though, it was Virgil’s job to handle the exceptions, he was supposed to be there to help Remus deal with the exceptions—

Virgil grabbed his hair and tugged, hard, and that flipped some kind of switch in his brain that at least got him focusing on where the hell he was.  What was it that Logan had done that one time?  Put an ice cube on his forehead?  That was probably a better idea than pulling his hair until he could focus, except the ice cubes were downstairs in the freezer and Virgil didn’t even think he could stand up right now, much less handle a flight of stairs.

Hair it was then.  Virgil tugged on it again, and again, and again, and by the fourth time he could focus enough to drag his head up and look around him.

Okay, what was that other one Logan taught him?  Five things he could see?

Uh, there was the bleakness of life, and the pointlessness of hope, and the door to the other commons behind which Remus experienced daily pain, and… Logan’s door that he hadn’t been able to make it to, and… and his shoes.

Four things he could feel, there was the impending doom, the dread that nothing would ever get better for anyone that mattered to him… the floor underneath his feet.  And an ache in his head from the pulling on his hair.

Three things he could hear.  His panicked breathing, a clock ticking in the background, and… someone moving downstairs?

That sent Virgil’s brain back into panicked mode, but this time he at least had a target he could do something about.

His legs weren’t shaking quite as much anymore, so he pushed himself to his feet and started towards the stairs.

Two things he could smell.  His own sweat, which naturally was just lovely, and… coffee?

One thing he could taste.  Morning breath, though he had no idea what time it actually was in the morning.

Virgil made his way slowly down the stairs, and now that he was approaching, he could see his nose hadn’t been wrong, and he was smelling coffee.  Who was drinking coffee in the middle of the night was another question.  It couldn’t be Patton, the side never needed the stuff.  Roman never got up in the middle of the night, and Logan would go on a rant about how bad it was for one’s circadian rhythm before he even thought about touching coffee at this hour.  So that left…

“Janus?” Virgil asked, peeking his head around the corner and into the kitchen.  Janus didn’t seem to hear him, but he was sitting with a cup of coffee next to him on the table.  It looked freshly made, still steaming.  Maybe that was why Janus was completely ignoring it in favor of sitting there with his head in his hands.

Virgil kind of doubted it, though.

“Janus?” Virgil asked again, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder.

Janus jerked upright and turned to face Virgil, and Virgil jerked backwards slightly as he did.

“Virgil,” Janus said, sitting upright and making an immediate effort to look more presentable, as if that would erase what Virgil had walked in to see him doing.

“Janus, what’s wrong?” Virgil asked.  Asking felt like dragging out some kind of energy that he definitely didn’t have right now, but he couldn’t go check on Remus, so making progress towards getting him to safety was the next best thing.

“Nothing, I’m alright,” Janus said, reaching for his coffee and taking a sip.  “Just tired.”

“Really, because you’re sitting here drinking coffee at…” Virgil glanced at the oven clock.  “3:00 in the morning when you could just as easily be going to sleep to help yourself with that problem.”

Janus sighed and rubbed at his eyes.  “I’m… I’ll be fine, Virgil.  Just go back to bed.”

He could.  He could sink out to Remus’ room right now and make sure he was okay.  But then he would leave Janus alone when he was struggling, and that was… not good.  For his plan.  Yeah, obviously.  Not good for his plan.

“What’s wrong?” Virgil asked again, pushing past the exhaustion he felt and sitting down.

Janus sighed again, in the way that meant Virgil had pushed far enough.  Which was relief, because Virgil wasn’t sure he had it in him to push any further.

“I’m thinking about myself, Virgil,” Janus admitted.  “And I’m thinking about the fact that I’m a little jealous of you.”

Virgil coughed, unable to move past his shock fast enough so that Janus wouldn’t notice.

“What?” Janus said, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Wh- I just— why in Thomas’ name would you be jealous of me?” Virgil asked.

Janus turned to stare at Virgil in bafflement.  “Virgil,” he said.  “You won Thomas over in a couple months.  That took me almost a year.  You’ve also never had to hide part of yourself to do it.”

Virgil winced.  Yeah, it probably looked that way, huh.

“I still don’t think you have to keep doing that,” Virgil said, crossing his arms in front of him.  “You don’t think Thomas is going to care more about you than about what you represent at this point?”

“I…” Janus said hesitantly.  “I don’t know.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment.

“Janus,” Virgil said quietly.  “They love you.”

“They don’t even know me.”

“And whose fault is that?” Virgil said, before he could really think it through.

But instead of getting angry, Janus just sighed and dropped his head into his hands.  There was another stretch of silence.

“Do you remember,” Janus said quietly, lifting his head just slightly.  “How good Remus always was at reading me?”

Virgil went still.

“If he was here,” Janus said, lifting his head the rest of the way.  “I would have been exposed a very long time ago.  By accident or otherwise.  And weirdly enough, I think part of me wants that now.  When you first got here, I was dreading that you would reveal something and affect my relationship with Thomas and the others, but now I just… want something or someone else to do it, so it’s not my responsibility or my fault anymore.”

Virgil didn’t say anything.

“I’m scared, Virgil,” Janus whispered.

Virgil thought of Thomas, and his smile, and the way it made you feel like your entire world was okay when he valued you.

“I understand,” he said.

“You make me miss being myself,” Janus admitted, looking back at Virgil.  “It’s so easy around you, because there’s nothing to hide.  It’s harder to miss being myself when I don’t even have any opportunities to acknowledge that I’m hiding part of myself.”  He shook his head.  “I don’t think I ever realized how much I missed you and Remus.”

Virgil could breathe just fine, there wasn’t a lump in his throat.

Janus squeezed his eyes shut, and Virgil found it a little harder to breathe at the sorrow and regret on his face.

“Virgil,” Janus said, opening his eyes.  “I’m sorry that I left.”

What?

“I would do it again,” Janus murmured.  “It was necessary.  Thomas needed me.  But I’m sorry that it was necessary.”

Yeah, so Virgil was definitely going to have another panic attack.  How was he supposed to process that?

Rage was the first emotion he could recognize.  Did Janus think that was enough?  Did Janus think he got to leave Virgil and Remus behind to be hurt and killed and broken and then make up for it with “I’m sorry that it was necessary?”

But then Janus… Janus didn’t know.  Janus had never known.  The others had always been very careful in making sure of that.  Virgil had tried to tell him, at the end there.  But at that point Janus had been far too focused on Thomas, and when Virgil had really started to worry he was going to leave, it was really too late to stop him.

And that’s supposed to make it okay? snapped a voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Remus.  He should have asked.  He should have paid attention.  He should have noticed we were both so hurt all the time.

That wasn’t wrong.  But Virgil couldn’t say that.  Not if he wanted Remus to be safe.  Not if he wanted Thomas to keep them.  Not if they wanted to stop being so hurt all the time.

Well then.

Virgil reached out and squeezed Janus’ hand, and Janus looked up at him as Virgil spoke.

“I forgive you.”

…

Virgil had thought making such significant progress with Janus would feel better.  If it had been when he first came over here, and all Virgil had to do to get him and Janus to this point was lie about forgiving him, he would do it in less than a heartbeat.  But he went back to his room that night feeling squirmy and guilty and bad.

Of course he didn’t forgive Janus.  As if that pathetic apology was all it would take for him to forgive Janus.  As if he was ever going to forgive Janus, because he wasn’t.

But then why did he feel bad about lying about it?  It was just to help Remus.  It’s not as if Janus was going to help Remus.  It was up to him, like always.  And this was what was necessary to make that happen.  Why did he feel bad?  He shouldn’t feel bad.

Unfortunately, he was not going to get any time to ruminate on whether or not he should feel bad or why he did, because as soon as he got back to his room, he was given immediate proof that all of Logan’s probability talk was bullshit.

“Remus?  Remus!” Virgil’s hands were shaking as he shut his door again, and he moved immediately to where Remus lay on his floor, looking as bad as he had an hour ago in Virgil’s nightmare.

“Remus!” he cried, shaking his shoulder.  “Remus, wake up!”

Remus shifted underneath his hand and groaned, and Virgil, satisfied with the fact that he was breathing but not in the least calmed down, started looking over him for injuries.

“‘m sorry,” Remus murmured, and Virgil looked up towards his face, which was still pressed into the floor facing away from him.  “Needed somewhere safe.”

“Don’t apologize,” Virgil said, leaning forward and pulling Remus to him.  “Don’t apologize, it’s okay.  That’s what I told you to do, that’s what you should do.  Where are you hurt, Remus?”

“I’m sorry,” Remus said again.

“Remus, it’s okay,” Virgil said.  He seemed really shaken by something, but Virgil couldn’t tell what.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said a third time.

“Remus, it’s okay, you don’t have to keep apologizing,” Virgil said, his own voice starting to shake too.  “Can you hear me?”

He reached around and turned Remus over so he could see his face— and nearly dropped him.

Remus’ side was covered in more of those burns layered with stab marks that Malice had somehow come up with, but worse than that was Remus’ face.  His entire left eye was gone, and it made sense that he kept repeating himself like he couldn’t hear what Virgil was saying, because both of his ears were gone, and all that was left were blood-covered stumps where they should be.

“Remus, what—” Virgil whispered, his hands starting to shake more.

The eye that Remus had left started to well up with tears.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, before starting to sob.

Virgil pulled Remus to his chest as tears started to well in his own eyes, and he didn’t know what else to do other than start running his hand through Remus’ blood-soaked hair.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said again.

“It’s okay,” Virgil said, except Remus couldn’t hear him.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Remus, it’s okay it’s okay,” Virgil sobbed, squeezing him tighter.  He didn’t have the first clue what to do to help Remus right now.  This wasn’t something he could patch up.  It wouldn’t heal given time.  How was he supposed to fix this?

“Re,” Virgil said weakly, pulling back enough that he could look at Remus.  “I’m going to take you to the bathroom.”  He pointed so Remus would know what he was talking about, and Remus nodded weakly.  Virgil hoisted Remus up and carried him over towards the bathroom, and set him down in the bathtub when they got there.  Remus might have been more comfortable on the bed, but leaving each other alone before they were done patching each other up was not something the two of them did.

Remus knew where Virgil’s supplies were too, and his hands were shaking as he handled some of the cuts on his arms, while Virgil wrapped a bandage around his head.  The bleeding had stopped a while ago, thankfully.  Virgil wasn’t sure Remus would have made it if it hadn’t.  He didn’t really understand how it had stopped, though.  It would have needed immediate care, but Remus hadn’t been able to, and Virgil hadn’t been there, and why in the world would any of the others have done that?

Virgil put it out of his mind for now.  It took him the better part of an hour to patch Remus up, as he had to wrap nearly half of his head in bandages, and both of them were shaking a little too much to do it quickly.

It did get done eventually, though neither of them were in the best of shape even after it did.

“Okay, Remus?” Virgil said, before remembering that Remus couldn’t hear him.

He gently touched Remus’ arm, and Remus looked back over at him.  Virgil looked around for a second but there was nothing to write with in the bathroom.  So instead, he helped Remus up and brought them both back into the bedroom, before finding his dream journal on his nightstand.

He scribbled down “You’re going to sleep here tonight” on a blank page before showing it to Remus.

Remus shook his head, even though he was still shaking all over.  “I— I’m okay,” he said.

Virgil simply underlined the words in the notebook.

“Virgil, you can’t,” Remus said weakly.

Virgil jabbed at the notebook with his pencil eraser.

Remus looked back at Virgil’s face and must have seen the determination there, because finally he nodded and whispered “Okay.”

Remus waited until Virgil climbed onto his bed and pulled the covers back, but as soon as he did he curled up against Virgil’s side.

“‘m sorry,” he mumbled against Virgil’s chest.  “I tried to wrap them myself.”

Virgil pulled back and looked at Remus, trying to make the bafflement clear on his face.

“You’re so worried already!” Remus exclaimed.  “And I should be able to take care of myself without needing your help all the time.”

Virgil shook his head and reached for his notebook.

“Re, you’re down there all by yourself,” he wrote.  “That’s not fair to expect you to handle on your own.  I’d need help if it was just me down there.”

“I’m making you worry,” Remus whispered.

Virgil rolled his eyes and scribbled down “I’m Anxiety, dummy.  You don’t get that much credit.”

Remus smiled, though it looked wobbly.

Virgil wrote one more thing down and showed Remus the notebook.

Remus’ eyes widened.  “What?  Virgil, you can’t!”

“I can’t send you back down like this, Re,” Virgil wrote.  “I’ve made a huge amount of progress with Janus, tonight especially.  I’m bringing you up here with me.”

Well, even if that wasn’t true, he might have risked asking.  Remus wouldn’t last in this state.  He couldn’t hear anyone coming, he couldn’t see as well, and even if neither of those things were true, he was in no shape to fight them.

“And if Janus says no?” Remus murmured.

“He won’t,” Virgil wrote.

“Hopefully,” he muttered aloud.

He didn’t know if Remus believed him, but he stopped arguing at least, and before long, he was curled against Virgil’s side asleep.

It was sooner than Virgil probably would have asked in an ideal world, but then in an ideal world he wouldn’t have to ask at all.

And Janus would let Remus move up here.  He had to.  If Virgil sent Remus back down now, he’d die.  And if he had to recover down there alone…

Virgil shook the thought away.  It wouldn’t matter, because Janus was going to say yes.

He was.

He was.

...

Chapter Eighteen

[pascalepalaces]

"Problem Areas" in misplacement magazine:

Also published in: littledeathlit, Issue 5: Life in Limbo (2020, Online) The Hallowzine, Issue 2 (2021, Digital)

Transcript:

Something had been different ever since the eye transplant. She’d been offered the list of possible side effects: dryness, graininess, the occasional floating aura. Yet there is nothing to the effect of “I don’t recognize myself in the mirror” in the information packet, nor online.

And the doctor is only taking phone calls, from home, because of the virus. 

“We’re not a mental health office,” adds the receptionist.

In other regards, Laurie is lucky to have acquired such young and healthy eyes. They’re young, anyway, in comparison to the standard; she’d been told that most recipients had accepted their poor vision as ‘better than the alternative’. Yet Harold Splinter from Dayton, Ohio had died at 34, and he hadn’t even worn glasses. His cancer had been in his colon, too: all the way at the other end of his body.

Now she would have fresh eyes, the time to make revisions to her novel. She’d spent the last of her savings on her short leave; to stay home with her rent on pause is a chance that she’ll never have again. Everyone else is writing about how suffocated they’ll feel in self-quarantine—

yet having had a hole in her vision for months, she only feels free.

No distractions. She pulls her router from the wall, cancels her Netflix billing. She takes down every mirror in the apartment, having been poking into every crevice of herself with her new eyes.

She’d been lightly disappointed that, like her old ones, they’re blue.

But hair becomes her biggest problem. Each moment before she presses the power button on her computer, it’s all that she sees: bright in the reflection of the dark screen, its grayness especially apparent, always messy in several directions.

As she goes on to try to read her chapters, her hair in more than one way takes root at the back of her head. She feels as if she’s been invaded, penetrated. It’s a canker sore that the tongue can’t leave alone—and, in the same way, Laurie often feels her hands slipping upwards.

On the fourth day, leaning over the kitchen counter and eating liquorice from a bag, she stares at the piles below her chair. It’ll soon reach her knees: a taunting manifestation of each wasted minute, of every unwritten word. 

No one will see her for at least three months, anyway, she begins to think.

It might even be smart. Everyone’s freaking out about not being able to get haircuts. 

The next day she throws all of her hair—picked and shaved—down the garbage chute. This will motivate her to finish the book earlier, she decides. If she doesn’t, she’ll have to tell everyone she underwent chemo.

Work comes easy, for a while, after that. Yet the more that Laurie types, the more conscious she becomes of her hands. It’s the skin around her nails that bothers her, really: the way that it hardens and whitens, victim of the winter air and harsh sanitizers. She re-attaches the router to order a luxe hand cream—but it’s a thin wall which she always digs through. Gloves are the same.

What purpose do nails have, anyway?, is the nascent thought. She doesn’t need them to type.

They grow back in four to six months. That’s just how long everyone will be isolated.

Later, noticing how quickly the skin on her lips grows back, too, after she becomes too aware of it—she sees it, always, in the reflection of her forks—she figures that they’ll just as easily grow back as a whole. 

They’re just flaps of skin, after all, she rationalizes. Just more skin.

Peeling at them without nails takes too much time. 

She won’t be speaking to anyone for a long while.

She’s more comfortable, after that, and her couch her creative caucus. One might just have to destroy a bit to create, she thinks, as she fills another page. She’s had to suffer, a little, for her art: to overcome the challenge of distraction.

It wasn’t like she’d been self-harming, anyway—merely chipping away at her edges.

And the evening that she sits in her nightgown, cross-legged, is when she comes across the hideousness of knees. Hers are uneven, and knobby, and they protrude from her legs like faces.

Since skin grows back, she thinks, it’ll be better to remove the whole thing; if she secures her calves back to her thighs, she might even get around without too much struggle. It’ll keep her sitting, working.

But she wakes the next day, to her truculent horror, sensing overgrowth. Her eyes open to a long head of hair, full nails, fleshy knees. She must have dreamt all of her auto-surgeries, she thinks, until she finds chunks of herself in the freezer.

Every morning becomes a routine of shaving, ripping, of sawing at herself before she can sit with her manuscript. The acts become as casual, to her, as setting down her keys. She stops noticing the lengths of hair along the floors—the knees atop the dresser, the counter, the couch.

Yet one dripping morning, as she’s bringing the knife down onto her lips, she looks to herself in the reflection.

Her eyes would probably regenerate brand new, too, she realizes. Maybe they’ve even been ready, this whole time, and waiting behind these ones like adult teeth. 

She finds that she’s wrong; yet without sight of her body, Laurie can only think about her book. She gets through with voice-to-text commandment faster than she’s ever typed.

Finally, she thinks, stretching herself outward. I can relax.

[13-beutelteufel]

Paradise (tlod)- A terrible curse - Part III

Paradise - The Lady of Darkness (tlod) is a connected story. The correct order is in the masterlist in my pinned post

‘They're scattering us.’ Rainbow murmured, pressing himself against the bark beside them and peering cautiously past the trunk into the clearing. Belli didn't dare peek past him, but she couldn't see Jana and Amadeus or Sea. They must have fled in the other direction during the attack. ‘Come out, we want to play with you.’ she heard the golden-haired girl's voice again. Silence followed. Belli hardly dared to breathe. Then a ‘There you are!’ A flash of red lightning shot right past Belli, where Rainbow's head had just been. He reacted quickly and threw himself forwards with all his might. He skidded on the wet earth and shortly afterwards disappeared under the leaves. A hail of red lightning followed him and shredded the foliage. But the mercenaries seemed to be clever. Green lightning bolts shot past Belli and Hermes and many more seemed to hit the tree. The old giant creaked and groaned, almost as if it were suffering. Belli felt the large roots move as their hold was torn from the earth. The tree began to sway. ‘Shit, we have to get out of here!’ Hermes grabbed her by the arm and pushed her towards the forest. ‘Deeper into the forest! And stay in the shade of the tree!’ Belli forced her legs to obey her and ran. She had to duck several times because she heard the whirring of lightning from behind, but the tree still seemed to provide them with good cover. However, this cover did not last forever. The lightning bolts became more and more accurate and the distances between them became shorter. It was becoming increasingly difficult to avoid them. One of the red ones cut her sleeve. Belli felt its heat on her skin and almost thought she could feel the burning pain. She stumbled to the side in horror. Right into the path of a green lightning bolt. But before she even realised it, Hermes knocked her over and out of the line of fire. He was no longer able to save himself. Belli would remember every detail of that moment for years to come, as if it were replaying in slow motion in her head. The look on Hermes' face, barely focussed and surprisingly calm. The breath of relief when he pushed her off the track. And the horror when he realised it was too late for him. The green lightning struck his arm. Belli could almost see the terrible, red-hot pain. She saw it in Hermes' eyes. And the daze that the sudden pain caused. A daze that lasted a second too long. A breeze hit him. No, not a breeze, a punctual storm that swept away the leaves. Belli turned onto her stomach in time and ducked down. She felt the storm sweep across her back and tear at her hair. She desperately pressed her forehead against the ground and hoped, prayed that this would all finally come to an end. The storm left just as quickly as it had come. When Belli sat up and turned to Hermes, he staggered. As if the storm had swept away his balance. His songs fluttered before they finally closed and the messenger of the gods fell to the ground with a thud. Once again, Belli's reaction was a second too late. She wanted to reach out for him, but before she reached him, someone yanked her off the ground. Not a second too late. A storm of red lightning burst over them. Belli's feet only regained their footing when she was thrown roughly against a tree trunk. The impact squeezed the air out of her lungs for a moment, but the shock quickly gave way to fear when she saw Hermes still lying defenceless on the ground. ‘He's alive.’ a voice whispered to her from behind. Rainbow. He must have somehow crawled through the foliage unseen and saved her. ‘Soon no more.’ Belli said. Or so she wanted to say. She couldn't hear her own words as they were drowned out in a crescendo of whirring and cracking wood. They were firing at the tree they were standing behind. The wood and bark continued to splinter at breakneck speed. It would probably be less than a few minutes before the tree was simply felled, a flash of red blocking their escape on either side. They were trapped. Once again. But something drowned out the noise. "HEY YOU NUMPTIES, OVER HERE! HERE!"

Part IV:

[autolovecraft]

It may have been mocking.

This arrangement could be ascended with a minimum of awkwardness, and would furnish the desired height. He had not forgotten the criticism aroused when Hannah Bixby's relatives, wishing to transport her body to the cemetery in the city whither they had moved, found the casket of Judge Capwell beneath her headstone. On the afternoon of Friday, April 15th, then, Birch set out for the tomb with horse and wagon to transfer the body of Matthew Fenner. Great heavens, Birch, just as I thought! He confided in me because I was his doctor, and because he probably felt the need of confiding in someone else after Davis died. Well enough to skimp on the thing some way, but you got what you deserved. Clutching the edges of the aperture. He was merely crass of fiber and function—thoughtless, careless, and liquorish, as his easily avoidable accident proves, and without that modicum of imagination which holds the average citizen within certain limits fixed by taste. He was just dizzy and careless enough to annoy his sensitive horse, which as he drew it viciously up at the tomb neighed and pawed and tossed its head, much as on that former occasion when the rain had vexed it. The vault had been dug from a hillside, so that the narrow ventilation funnel in the top ran through several feet of earth, making this direction utterly useless to consider. Birch had locked himself for nine hours in the receiving tomb of Peck Valley Cemetery, escaping only by crude and disastrous mechanical means; but while this much was undoubtedly true, there were other and blacker things which the man used to whisper to me in his drunken delirium toward the last. It must have been midnight at least when Birch decided he could get through the transom. The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. In this twilight too, he began to realize the truth and to shout loudly as if his horse outside could do more than neigh an unsympathetic reply.

Steeled by old ordeals in dissecting rooms, the doctor entered and looked about, stifling the nausea of mind and body that everything in sight and smell induced. In either case it would have been appropriate; for the unexpected tenacity of the easy-looking brickwork was surely a sardonic commentary on the vanity of mortal hopes, and the emerging moon must have witnessed a horrible sight as he dragged his bleeding ankles toward the cemetery lodge; his fingers clawing the black mold in brainless haste, and his body responding with that maddening slowness from which one suffers when chased by the phantoms of nightmare. Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch. The moon was shining on the scattered brick fragments and marred facade, and the source of a task whose performance deserved every possible stimulus. Horrible pains, as of savage wounds, shot through his calves; and in his mind was a vortex of fright mixed with an unquenchable materialism that suggested splinters, loose nails, or some other attribute of a breaking wooden box. Dusk fell and found Birch still toiling. Fortunately the village was small and the death rate low, so that the coffins beneath him rocked and creaked.

Why did you do it, Birch? At last the spring thaw came, and graves were laboriously prepared for the nine silent harvests of the grim reaper which waited in the tomb. It was generally stated that the affliction and shock were results of an unlucky slip whereby Birch had locked himself for nine hours in the receiving tomb of Peck Valley; and was a very calloused and primitive specimen even as such specimens go. Maddened by the sound, or by the stench which billowed forth even to the open air, the waiting horse gave a scream that was too frantic for a neigh, and plunged madly off through the night, the wagon rattling crazily behind it. When Dr. Davis left Birch that night he had taken a lantern and gone to the old receiving tomb. The skull turned my stomach, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the daily paths of men was enough to exasperate him thoroughly.

In time the hole grew so large that he ventured to try his body in it now and then, shifting about so that the coffins beneath him rocked and creaked. Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside.

He changed his business, but something always preyed upon him. He was a scoundrel, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin, but you got what you deserved. The thing must have happened at about three-thirty in the afternoon. Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. His questioning grew more than medically tense, and his aching arms rested by a pause during which he sat on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. Birch heeded this advice all the rest of his life till he told me his story; and when I saw the scars—ancient and whitened as they then were—I agreed that he was wise in so doing. When Dr. Davis left Birch that night he had taken a lantern and gone to the old receiving tomb. Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. He had, it seems, planned in vain when choosing the stoutest coffin for the platform; for no sooner was his full bulk again upon it than the rotting lid gave way, jouncing him two feet down on a surface which even he did not get Asaph Sawyer's coffin by mistake, although it was very similar. Well enough to skimp on the thing some way, but you always did go too damned far! Being without superstition, he did not heed the day at all; so that he was reduced to a profane fumbling as he made his halting way among the long boxes toward the latch. On the afternoon of Friday, April 15th, then, Birch set out for the tomb with horse and wagon to transfer the body of Matthew Fenner. Birch decided he could get through the transom. Dusk fell and found Birch still toiling.

For the long-neglected latch was obviously broken, leaving the careless undertaker trapped in the vault, a victim of his own oversight. After a full two hours Dr. Davis left, urging Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood. And so the prisoner toiled in the twilight, heaving the unresponsive remnants of mortality with little ceremony as his miniature Tower of Babel rose course by course. It was just as he had recognized old Matt's coffin that the door slammed to in the wind, leaving him in a dusk even deeper than before.

He would have given much for a lantern or bit of candle; but lacking these, bungled semi-sightlessly as best he might. I live. When Dr. Davis left, urging Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood. The thing must have happened at about three-thirty in the afternoon. God, what a rage! He changed his business, but something always preyed upon him. Being without superstition, he did not heed the day at all; so that he was wise in so doing. As he planned, he could not shake clear of the unknown grasp which held his feet in relentless captivity.

His frightened horse had gone home, but his frightened wits never quite did that. The boxes were fairly even, and could be piled up like blocks; so he began to realize the truth and to shout loudly as if his horse outside could do more than neigh an unsympathetic reply. Most distinctly Birch was lax, insensitive, and professionally undesirable; yet I still think he was not an evil man.

Great heavens, Birch, just as I thought! Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door. Maddened by the sound, or by the stench which billowed forth even to the open air, the waiting horse gave a scream that was too frantic for a neigh, and plunged madly off through the night, the wagon rattling crazily behind it.