#but he was already lifting he just needed a boost to be able to put on weight quicker

[softpine]

he's on steroids???

[oftenwantedafton]

ransom | steve raglan x female reader

rating | explicit

part 2/?

words | 4.2k

cw | kidnapping, captivity, restraints, sexual content

ao3 link

When you awaken, you find yourself alone in the motel room bed.

You’re now facing the window, apparently maneuvering in that direction sometime during the night. The blinds are still closed, of course. And you’re still bound.

You blink, shifting onto your back. You’re surprised at how well you’ve slept. Maybe it’s more from exhaustion over what you’ve endured over the last several days than any attributes of your current environment.

“Good morning.”

Steve’s voice greets you quietly. You sit upright, grimacing over the feel of your restrained wrists and ankles. Your captor is seated at the kitchen table, already dressed in his typical business attire. He looks solemn today. Not upset, not threatening, merely subdued.

“You slept well.” It feels like a statement rather than a question and you nod.

“You didn’t,” you return. The skin beneath his eyes is dark and puffy.

He shrugs, dismissing your observation. “I’ve got the bathroom set up for you. I’ll wait outside the door this time. Don’t try anything.”

You consider these statements, wondering what had changed between last evening and now. “Alright,” you agree.

He steps closer to the bed. His fingers move deftly, his eyes focused on his work. He begins at your ankles and then moves up to your wrists. You haven’t stopped staring at his face, noticing he’s pointedly avoiding your gaze.

“Did something happen?”

The last knot is unfastened and he draws the rest of the cord free, still refusing to make eye contact. “Not what you’re hoping for.”

No ransom yet, then. But that didn’t really account for the older man’s behavior.

You take a moment to massage your joints before you swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand. He doesn’t grasp your arm as he usually does, allowing you to walk to the bathroom on your own. You close the door behind you, still wondering why things feel so different this morning. You consider the window that’s frustratingly out of your reach. Your fingertips just brush the bottom of the windowsill. You’d need something to boost you up higher. You think, if you were able to close the distance, you could squeeze through. A quick check underneath the sink reveals only a spare roll of toilet paper. Nothing there to help you, either. Of course that’s what Steve had really meant by getting the bathroom ready for you; making sure there were no means for you to escape now that he’s letting you be unsupervised.

You sigh, resigned to your fate, for now, completing your morning routine, your hygiene attended to, dressed in a fresh set of clothing. It’s actually the last such set; you’ll need to figure out soon if laundering your garments is on the itinerary, because there’s no way you’re going to keep putting the same things on over and over, especially not your underwear. You crack the bathroom door open to find Steve seated at the kitchen table, picking at a chip in the surface. His head lifts briefly to note your appearance, his eyes skittering over your features.

“I’m going to go get breakfast.”

You pause on the threshold of the bedroom, considering this statement. “Can I come with you?”

“No.”

“Come on, please? I need some fresh air.” You really are craving it. The air in the room is stale. You have no desire to be trussed up again, either. The respite has been far too brief.

“No,” he repeats firmly. “Sit down so I can retie you.”

You slump dejectedly into the seat across from him. “Are you going to tell me what’s up, or are you going to keep moping?”

“I’m not moping.” He makes no move towards you. His fingernails—neatly trimmed, the cuticles perfectly sculpted—have managed to lift a corner of the cheap surface free, revealing the particleboard beneath.

“You won’t even look me in the eyes.”

The older man surrenders to this challenge, the icy blue eyes lifting to finally meet your gaze. Guilt. That’s what it is. You doubt he’s having second thoughts about kidnapping you. It’s clearly something else that’s driving this change of mood. So what is he remorseful about? What had happened last night while you were sleeping?

“What happened?” You ask aloud, peering at the man’s features. His brow has been furrowed all morning, the creases bordering the corners of his eyes deepening. You know there are dimples hidden in the corners of his mouth, but there’s no humor to reveal those divots now.

“Nothing. I already told you.” His voice is gritty and low.

You fold your arms across your chest, challenging him. “Yeah. So you keep saying. And I don’t buy it.”

The broad stretch of shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “It doesn’t really matter if you do or not.” He stands abruptly, the chair dragging across the floor with a groaning sound of protest. The restraining ropes have reappeared from seemingly out of nowhere, now clutched in his hands.

“Already? Can’t I have a little more of a break? I’m getting bruises,” you protest, unfolding your arms and pointing towards a purple stain across the skin of one forearm.

“No, you can’t. We’re on a schedule. And you’re injuring yourself because you’re struggling. Stop resisting and you won’t get hurt.”

You let your wrists fall in your lap, waiting. He drops to one knee, binding your lower extremities, his face lifting as he finishes to find you watching him intently. There’s a tension in the air, palpable between you.

“Put them behind you.”

“You put them there.” You don’t know why you’re being so obstinate this morning. Maybe it’s because of the man’s altered demeanor. Something about it makes you want to challenge him. There’s a chink in his armor, a crack you want to worry open further.

Reckless, you know, because you’re fairly certain the gun is tucked at his back, or is somewhere nearby, within reach. You still don’t think he’d harm you, but you don’t really know for certain, do you?

His fingers reach for one of your wrists just as you move your hand, and your fingers collide. It should have been a brief, brisk movement, but instead it becomes more of a caress, a drag across his much longer fingers and the wide span of his palm. That gentle touch does something to you, igniting a flame deep inside. It feels good, even though it shouldn’t, even though you should be recoiling and he should be cold and dispassionate. You’re a pawn, a bargaining chip, just a means to an end that will result in a large payout. You know this, and yet you let your fingers linger against that warmth, their backs stroking his undersides. In actuality it all happens very rapidly, over nearly as soon as it had begun, but it feels longer, that unintentional contact dragged out further with the huff of breath that escapes the captor and your answering sharp inhale. At last those digits close over the joint, purpose realized once more, and you allow your arm to be effortlessly maneuvered around the back of the chair, the process then repeated for the other side, minus the lingering touch.

He doesn’t speak again as he gathers his things, departing without so much as a farewell or admonished reminder to ‘behave.’ You exhale loudly once he leaves, your tensed shoulders slumping. What the hell was that, anyway? Why had he touched you that way? Why had you touched him back in the same manner? And why the hell was your body suddenly so warm and tingling? You’d spent the night in bed with him, his body inches away, and you’d hadn’t felt like this then.

You halt on that thought, pondering. He’d been acting normal, or at least like what you’re accustomed to in your brief time together, when you’d both gotten into bed. It was definitely something that had happened after that. Something during the night.

The bearded man returns a short time later, interrupting your musings, the latest shopping haul set on the table. A pack of miniature boxes of cereal, the kind that you used to enjoy when your family went camping, ages ago. There are also half gallons of milk and orange juice, a loaf of bread, and jars of peanut butter and jelly, plus a box of plastic spoons, and packages of paper cups and plates. There’s no toaster in the motel room, so the bread is likely going to be served as is, but you’re still looking forward to eating, your appetite keen once again.

“Are you going to feed me again?”

Steve pauses midway through slathering pieces of bread with the contents of the jars using the back of a plastic spoon. “No.” He gestures towards the boxes of cereal. “Pick one.”

You survey the options before opting for frosted corn flakes and he mirrors your choice, setting the others aside. A pocket knife appears seemingly from nowhere—you have no idea how he does it, producing these concealed things so readily—and he uses it to cut an opening in the side of each box and through the plastic bag lining the inside, lifting the flaps of each aside and then pouring milk into the opening.

“Huh. I never knew you could do that,” you murmur as he places one of the improvised bowls in front of you.

“My kids used to love them that way along with the Saturday morning cartoons,” he reminisces, and you glance at him, surprised. Wondering where those children are now. Likely adults themselves. And his wife. What did she think of all of this? Did she know her husband was a kidnapper and an extortionist? No ring on his finger. Part of the disguise? Left at home safely?

He noticed you looking at his hands, apparently guessing your thoughts. “Divorced,” he says shortly.

“Oh.” You’re not sure how to respond to this declaration. Why it could possibly matter.

Once everything else is set up, he stands and moves behind your chair. Only one hand is freed, but still, it’s progress.

“So you trust me now?” You swallow a sip of juice and then take a bite of what’s become a pb&j sandwich while he digs into the makeshift bowl of cereal in front of him.

“I wouldn’t say that precisely. I suppose you have earned some,” he replies, sounding a bit cautious.

Weird. He’s still off. You don’t get it, but you’re not going to complain about this newfound freedom. You finish consuming everything set in front of you, wondering if he’s going to tie you back up again. If you’re going to be stuck sitting in this damn uncomfortable chair until bedtime.

As if once again sensing your thoughts, he shakes his head. “I’ll take you for a walk. Briefly. Out back. You’re not to speak if we do happen to encounter anyone. You cooperate, and I won’t have to restrain you quite so thoroughly. Understood?”

“Yes.” You’re surprised. You didn’t think he’d actually allow you this kind of acitivity. Was it really that easy to wear him down?

Your wrists are fastened together in front of you after the table is cleared and your legs freed. Steve drapes a hoodie over your hands to conceal the restraints and make it seem as if you’re merely carrying a jacket in case you catch cold. His hand is back in its familiar placement on your upper arm again, maneuvering you through the door. The room you’re staying in is one over from the end, so it’s a quick walk to reach the rear of the building. There’s not much to see when you round the corner. The landscaping isn’t well kept. It’s mostly wild overgrowth that lines the border of the asphalt. But you still appreciate it, grateful for the fresh air and direct sunlight. You savor that feeling of near freedom, however teasing it might be. It feels good to stretch your legs. You don’t encounter anyone, so your captor needn’t have worried about you appealing for help.

After a couple of laps along the length of the one story building you’re guided back to the room. Steve allows you to sit on the bed. Your wrists are still bound, but at least your legs are still free. You channel surf while he settles at the kitchen table again. You feel his eyes on you. Before he was going out of his way to avoid looking; now he won’t stop. You wish he’d make up his mind.

“Where are we going, after this?”

He folds the newspaper he’d picked up along with breakfast earlier, apparently finding nothing of interest. “One more stop. Cabin. That’s where you’ll stay until your father pays up. You’ll have a room to yourself,” he adds.

“Why bring me so far away? You’re just going to have to take me back again as soon as you get the ransom.”

“Because your father undoubtedly has people looking for you. Not the authorities, of course, because that would mean drawing scrutiny I’m sure he’d rather avoid. Any interception from those men your father has likely employed would mean we don’t get paid, thereby defeating the entire purpose of this venture.”

You’re not naive; you’re not going to pretend you don’t know that not every aspect of your dad’s business is above board, but Steve makes it sound downright sinister.

“I’d prefer this not end violently. But the outcome of all of this ultimately depends on him. If he cooperates, we’ll arrange a meeting spot. Somewhere in the middle. And then this will all be over.”

You know that last statement is meant to be reassuring, but there’s still an ominous edge to his words that makes you shudder. You turn your attention back to the game show on television, deciding to let your companion brood in silence for now.

***

Steve is getting restless.

He’d tried to get a different room, but the office attendant had declined, saying nothing was available. The check-in phone call that afternoon had gone much the same as the previous day. No news. The plan remains unchanged.

He isn’t sure whether he’s relieved or sorry for that information.

It has been a long, tense day between the two of you. He’s been trying to be reasonable, granting you more freedom than he probably should be. But you’ve made no move to escape since you’ve arrived, and even though that might be a trick to deceive him, he doesn’t really think you’re the duplicitous type.

He’s still trying very hard to forget about what had happened the previous evening, but the more he tries to deny it, the more suspicious he sees you becoming. He’s caught between wanting to stare and eager to look away; between wanting to touch you and keeping his distance, because he’s not sure he trusts himself, and despite what he’s told you, he’s not sure he trusts you, either. He’s spent the day looking for a middle ground, reminding himself the goal was nearly within reach, attempting to maintaining discipline and authority without being needlessly aggressive.

But once the sun sets, he finds those intrusive thoughts creeping back in again.

You’re properly bound once again after you’re done showering, because he’s not going to risk compromising the operation this late in the game, especially not for a paltry reason like being attracted to you. He’s not even entirely sure he hasn’t been a little too lenient with you today. That had been very risky, letting you outside. Allowing you to have more freedom of movement. Privacy. Slackening restraints. Penance, maybe. An apology of sorts.

Steve takes a long time getting ready for bed. Delaying in the shower. Sitting back down at the kitchen table. There’s nothing left to do. He’s already emptied most of the contents of the refrigerator and packed and loaded the car for the morning, leaving out one set of clothes for both of you to change into. There’s nothing left to do, yet still he stalls, prolonging the inevitable.

“Are you coming to bed?”

Your voice is soft. Like your hands. Not calloused like his own. He has working man’s hands. You’ve been spoiled all your life. Treated like a princess. And here he is, the villain of the story, come to steal you away.

He wants to say no, he is not going to lie in that bed beside you. He should sleep elsewhere. The car, maybe. But he has to keep an eye on you, doesn’t he? So there is no other option.

He rises, setting the cell phone down on the nightstand, the gun slipped beneath the bottom pillow. He sits on the edge of the mattress, leaning over to switch off the lamp, and then lies down, his movements stiff. He doesn’t bother drawing the sheet over the pair of you. You don’t mention it. Don’t say anything once he’s settled next to you. He remains silent.

He can tell by the rhythm of your breathing that you are not ready for sleep. Neither is he.

Neither, apparently, are the occupants of the room next door. There’s no mistaking the sounds that begin emanating from the adjoining space. One male, one female. Moaning. Cursing. The rhythmic creaking of the mattress.

“Are they…?” You begin to ask.

Steve groans in response. He’s clearly offended whatever deity holds sway over this planet. It can’t possibly get any worse than this. Can it?

“Gross,” you whisper.

The moans grow louder. He grits his teeth, his hands balled into fists at his sides. Hoping it will end soon. Maybe he should put the television on. Anything to drown out…

Finally, silence. He exhales a shuddering breath, offering up a prayer of gratitude to whomever might be listening.

“Well, she had an easy shift. He didn’t last long,” you quip, the mattress protesting as you attempt to shift positions.

Steve blinks. “Stop squirming. Lie still. And you don’t know that woman is a prostitute.”

“You should feel what this is like. Trying to get comfortable, being tied up on this shitty bed. I can feel the springs digging into me. And no, I don’t know that for a fact, but it’s pretty likely, right? This is hardly a romantic getaway spot.”

“I guess.” He relaxes his fingers, finding them aching from flexing them so tightly.

“I’m just trying to make light of an awkward situation. You know.”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna tell me what happened last night?”

He stiffens. “What?”

“Did it happen last night, too? When I was asleep? And you got embarassed?”

“I’m a fifty three year old man. I’m hardly embarrassed about sex at my age.” He pauses. He could just lie. Take the excuse you’re dangling in front of him and be done with it once and for all.

“You’re fifty three? Damn. I wouldn’t have guessed. You look good. For your age,” you add, but the pause between those two statements is very thick.

“Go to sleep,” he reprimands. “We have a lot of traveling to do tomorrow.”

You grow silent, and he closes his eyes. Then:

“Steve?”

“Yes?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“You need to. We both do.”

“I’m wide awake.”

“Yeah. Nothing I can do about that, though, is there?”

“You could tell me a story.”

The kidnapper barks a short laugh. “You want a bedtime story? Seriously?”

“I mean, if you’re going to be that way about it. Fine. Forget it. Goodnight,” you mumble, your words growing muffled as you turn your face sideways.

“Goodnight,” he says softly.

***

It’s still dark when Steve awakens.

His fingers immediately touch the gun. Secure. Everything is fine. Except…

They’re at it again next door. Maybe that’s what woke him up. You’re awake, too. He hears your breathing, too rapid, coming in short, needy little bursts. Your face turns, your mouth pressing against his shoulder. Your bound hands rest against his side, fingers splayed over the thin undershirt covering his ribs.

The bearded man curses. “Stop. Get back on your own side,” he hisses. He should have put a pillow between you. Something knocks against the wall from the other room. A hand slapped out, maybe, during the throes of pleasure.

You disobey, remaining where you are, your breath huffed warmly over his joint. He curses again and reaches out, meaning to push you away, but his fingers don’t cooperate, don’t land where he’d intended. His thumb strokes your bottom lip and his other fingers find your cheek and the sound you make at that contact echoes what’s happening on the other side of the wall behind the bed.

“Steve,” you whisper.

“No.” He’s still cradling your face. You shift and press your lips against the inside of his wrist.

The man moves then, blindly feeling in the darkness, straddling your frame, knees neatly locking around your hips, his upper body rocking downward, one hand grabbing your joined wrists and pinning them above your head, pressing them firmly into the pillow. His breath saws harshly in and out, mingling with your own gasps.

“No,” he says again. It doesn’t sound like a command. It’s pleading. He’s begging you to stop him. Just one word and he will. He’ll end this madness. Less easy to explain, unpleasant to deal with in the broad light of day tomorrow, perhaps, but at least it will have stopped before going any further. You don’t want this. You can’t possibly want this.

“Steve,” you say again, and it’s pleading as well. Your pelvis grinds up against him, searching, and that’s it, he’s lost, his face plummeting the last few inches until his lips meet yours.

“We’re not doing this,” he growls, nipping at your bottom lip, but his hips have other ideas, snapping down, creating pressure that’s both satisfying and grossly inadequate. The sounds next door have died down again, but he’s oblivious to anything other than the feel of your body writhing beneath his now. “We’re not doing this, do you understand me?”

You whimper. “Steve, I need…”

“Do you think I’m stupid? That I’m going to fall for this? Let my guard down and release you before I get paid? No. That will never happen.” Each phrase is interspersed with rough kisses along your neck and jaw.

“Please…”

“Please what? Hmmm? Please what? What do you want from me?”

“Touch me…”

One hand still pins your wrists overhead. The other slides roughly down your body, pausing to knead your breasts before slipping down to the waistband of your pajamas. Your hips arch up, driving his hand down towards your heated flesh. Your bound ankles don’t allow your legs to spread as much as he’d like, but he’s not about to pause to undo those restraints now.

“Is this what you wanted?” His fingers glide between the folds, dodging your clit for the moment, searching through all that slick arousal leaking from your pussy. His middle finger eases inside, muscles instantly clenching around him snugly. “Christ, you’re so wet. Tight…” He pumps that finger in and out several times before finally giving your swollen bud some much needed attention, his thumb pressing down hard and then sliding to one side, rolling and pressing on that bundle.

More needy sounds escape you, loud enough to be heard by the fellow motel occupants, and he covers your mouth with his again. He’s not sharing this with anyone else.

His cock is throbbing, leaking, begging to be released from his boxer briefs, but he’s too occupied with the pair of fingers that curl inside your wet tunnel, the thumb that rolls that pearl at the apex of your sex at varying tempos, testing to see what you like best. You writhe against his hand, helping him pluck inside and massage externally, bringing you closer to your release.

“Steve…fuck…”

Your teeth find his lower lip, a little too firmly. He tastes blood, but ignores it, nuzzling your cheek, tongue stroking across your ear as he coaxes you closer. “That’s it, come on, cum for me, you’ve got this, good girl.”

“Steve, oh my God, I’m cumming, Steve!”

It hits faster than he’d anticipated, and there’s no way the temporary neighbors haven’t heard you now, but he doesn’t care in that moment. You shake violently against him, spasms inside that ricochet throughout all of you limbs, twitching seizure-like.

“Fuck,” he pants beside your ear, finally removing his hand. It’s still coated with your fluids, which he smears over his cock, hand roughly shoved inside his underwear. There’s nothing drawn out here, just a rapid fuck into his dew covered fist, face tucked against your neck, a low moan escaping once his erection coughs up a several thick spurts of semen.

He finally relaxes his grip on your wrists, trying to extract his hand from the mess he’s created without spreading it further. He sinks down beside you, feeling his thudding heart gradually slowing, his breathing returning to normal. You turn on your side, squirming to get closer, your cheek resting against his chest. He needs to go get washed up, and you probably want the same. There are still a couple of bottles of spring water in the fridge. The last of the beer. He could use one of each, give you the other pair. His mind tracks down his next moves methodically, like it always does, but it keeps getting interrupted, his train of thought stuttering. He’s done something he shouldn’t have. There will be consequences. Repercussions. Maybe not quite so apparent now, but later, for certain.

He should be feeling regret, but he can’t quite bring himself to express it. Not yet.

Not tonight.

[do-it-for-the-fandom]

Cloudy With a Chance of Murder.

Part I: leaving the crime scene.

Part II: the phone call.

Part III: a visit to the morgue.

Part IV: the lunch break.

Beckett stood by the coffee machine, waiting for the last of the espresso double-shot to drip from the machine so that she could pour the perfectly foamed milk into her mug. She was getting better at this; soon enough she'd be able to make herself a cup of coffee to rival Castle's, she was sure of it.

The boys had paraded through the bullpen with Reggie and his body guard only ten minutes ago. Their interrogation was far from over and, with everything panning out the way it had been, Beckett had decided that now was as good a time as ever for a caffeine boost.

Castle evidently had the same idea.

He walked into the break room and moved to take his place by her side. But he stood too close. Too close for at the precinct, anyway.

Out of habit - yes, after only two weeks they had already formed too many habits - his hand came to rest on her lower back and his chest brushed against her shoulder. She knew he wasn't doing it on purpose: trying to drive her crazy with the close proximity, the familiarity of his touch. But she hated having to hold back and it would be a hell of a lot easier if he wasn't constantly putting her in the position of having to be the one to redraw those boundaries.

With a sigh, she stepped to the side and regretfully created some distance between them.

"You know what I was just thinking?" Castle asked her as he turned and leaned back against the bench.

"That it's always the nice guy athlete that lets you down?" she mused with just a hint of bitterness.

Castle frowned. "There's obviously a backstory to that snide remark," he commented curiously. She looked at him, waited for the hounding questions but he shook his head. "No. I was thinking..." He allowed his voice to trail off as he stepped closer to her. After just a quick glance over his shoulder to ensure they were still alone, he looked at her with a mischievous grin. "It's almost lunch time."

Beckett looked at him, waited for him to maybe continue on with that train of thought. Instead, he just waggled his eyebrows.

"And?"

"And, I just happened to leave my packed lunch at home this morning."

She frowned; since when did Castle pack a lunch? But then she realized what he was suggesting. "So you'll be needing to go home to get it."

Castle smiled, took another small step in her direction. He was invading her space again; the smell of his cologne too alluring to ignore and she - for the second time that day - abandoned her coffee.

"I was hoping that maybe you could give me a lift?" he asked, still playing this game he had obviously decided he liked. "You know, save me the hassle of trying to hail a cab."

"You seem to have forgotten the case we're working on. The one that is far from solved," she reminded him.

He shrugged. "Gotta take your mandated break, right?"

"And you want me to spend my break playing taxi for you?"

"I promise to make it worth your while."

[hetalianskywalker]

Day 14: Trapped in the Lake

Pairing: Mer Boost x Reader

Summary: Something strange is happening in the lake near by.

Author’s Note: In the wider world I created for this little AU, four extra Jedi get to live. And one of them shows up here. Cause he is best dad.

Warnings: Cursing. A character being pretty ill.

Word Count: 915

Prompt: The dock that floats in the middle of the lake is small, cold and slick with algae. None of the coastal towns will admit to putting it there, which means something below is fishing.

Prompt 3036 from deepwaterwritingprompts

The dock that floats in the middle of the lake is small, cold and slick with algae. None of the coastal towns will admit to putting it there, which means something below is fishing. During the war, the Separatists had polluted the lake with something while occupying the island. The idea that something intelligent was now living in that water terrified everyone.

One night, you decide you’ve had enough of this mystery and take a small row boat out to the dock. Goosebumps appear on your skin as you stop next to it. Your fear is not quite letting you get on to it and it was healthy to listen to one’s instincts in situations like this.

“Wow. You’re pretty brave.” You scream in surprise at the voice, almost falling out of the boat. Thankfully, the other being holds the boat steady as he tries to not laugh his ass off.

“You okay?” He eventually gets out as his laughter dies. Once you catch your breath, you grab your lantern and pier over the side of the boat. Floating at the top of the water is a Mer clone. He has two odd stripes of red hair and a gray and white tail.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” You ask, surprised and concerned. “Your dock is scaring everyone and this water isn’t safe!”

“I know, but I’m kinda stuck.” He explains, flashing you his sharp teeth nervously.

“What do you mean stuck?” You gaze down into the murky depths, trying to see what could be holding him.

“No. I mean I can’t shift and leave the water.” He explains quickly. “Something in the water is blocking it. The others should be back for me soon.”

“Why the dock then?” The Mer goes to answer, but ends up coughing up a lung instead. You lift the lantern a bit higher and you notice how sickly he looks. You can see his veins more than you should and he looks a lot more tired than you originally thought.

“There was some wood already here and I needed something to keep me close to the surface. This way the others don’t have to get in the water to help me. And cause I’m not strong enough to get to the shoreline right now.” He shrugs, moving over to the dock in question. He moves his arms on top and lets his head rest on them a moment. You listen to the crickets for a moment as he tries to fight off his exhaustion.

“I’m Boost.” You offer your name softly in return. You stare worriedly down at the water; it was definitely making him sick. However, the ocean was too far and the village didn’t have enough clean water for him.

“When will they be back for you?” You ask worriedly and he smiles at you.

“We need a Jedi to purify the water and there aren’t many of those left. I’ll be all better when they get back. Don’t worry.”

Turns out you had every right to worry as he just gets sicker and sicker over the next few days. You end up having to row food out to him as he lays on the dock. It’s a vicious cycle, watching him lay out on the dock and feel better only to have to go back in to be able to breathe properly.

You're starting to lose faith when finally a group of four appear on the shoreline: three Mer clones and another species you had never seen before. You sit with him as Boost dizzily watches their boat get closer.

“General Koon?” Boost wheezes as the Jedi steps on to the dock.

“Easy Boost. It’s me.” His deep voice replies as you move out of his way. He sets a clawed hand on his forehead.

“You died?” He simply hushed him in response and began a chant. You watch in awe as the warm glow of magic appears from his hands. Slowly, Boost gains a bit of color back and his breathing evens out. When the chanting is done, he slowly sits up and changes into human form.

“We need to leave. The empire will be here soon.” A soft chorus of “yes sir” makes you chuckle. The Jedi waves you over to join them in the boat and you hop in as well.

“So who’s the girlfriend?”

“Fuck off, Sinker.” Boost snaps back and you almost burst out laughing.

“Stop it you two.” The one with the scar grumbles as the last member of the group tries not to laugh. The Jedi lets out a soft chuckle as well before turning to you. He quickly introduces the rest of the group before getting to the task at hand.

“You will need to come with us. It will not end well for you if the empire interrogates you.” Plo Koon informs you and you nod in agreement.

“Wait, you’ll really come?” Boost moves to sit up a bit more and almost falls over. You and Comet barely catch him before he hits his head. Sinker almost says something smug between his chuckles, but you all make it shore before he can. Specifically, Wolffe half drags him along to come stand guard with Plo Koon while you and Comet carry Boost.

“Yeah, Boost.” You smile brightly up at him and you resist the urge to tease him when you see him look away a bit embarrassed. “You ain’t getting rid of me that easy.”

[ghostkicksqpr]

"Help each other at the same time."

[Transcript:

Dakota: If you're going to be worried about me, then you have to be fair, and worry about yourself, too. You wanna fix my bones? Then we gotta fix you, too. Whatever you're- going on with your blood. William: Okay, but if I'm worrying about myself, then you have to worry about yourself. And if you're going to go out of your way to help me out, then you gotta go out of your way to help you out, too. Dakota: Okay! Well, then we help you first. William: Okay. As soon as we help you. Dakota: Alright! William: Help each other at the same time. Dakota: 'Kay.

---

Dakota: I had a thought. If you're willing to try it, William. William: Well, he's already got my skin, Dakota! Dakota: Look, if it doesn't work, I mean, so what? It's not like nothing will change, but, if it does… Well, this heart beats too fast for me, but maybe it'll beat just right for you. So… I thought maybe because it's not a real heart… it could work. If you want to give it a shot. --- William: You're not just doing this, right? Tell me you're not just doing this so you can… 'Cause it seems like something that you might do. Dakota: No- No! No! I started with the whole… William: Yeah, I know! I know you did! But still… --- Dakota: Look, if you don't take it, it's whatever, I just… I think if it worked… Maybe it would help. Maybe- Maybe you'd be able to fight off the chaos… the chaos demons without being in danger. With a little boost, you know, maybe you'd be able to feel again. Maybe that- that would help. If you want to try. --- William: You're right, Dakota, this is- Listen you- you- you selfless piece of shit, okay? You're going into this surgery, I'm coming with you, okay? This might be completely insane! But what's it gonna do? Kill me more? So, yeah. I'll take your heart. And if- and if you showed me anything- if you showed me anything at all, it's that… you don't need to be able to lift a bus or whatever to be strong. Or to be the strongest hero - I think you already are.

---

Professor Cross: They'll need rest. But! I believe… the operation was a success!

---

William: (shouting) Oh, man! I just wanted to say! Dakota, you're my fucking hero, man! You're my fucking hero! Dakota: Hey! Boundaries! William: You mean everything to me, dude! You didn't have to do what you did! Dakota: Put me down!

Charlie: I chest bump him! I chest-

William: Oh! Fuck, man! It all hurts so good! Dakota: Ow! My scar! My stitches, they- William: Ah, shit, mine too - I just burst them all. Dakota: Professor Cross! William: I burst them all! Dakota: Oh my god! William: Fuck! Dakota: It reopened-!

/End transcript]

[plothooksinc]

Assuming you don't have an excess of NRFTW prompts already, mayhaps a missing scene of Mikey confronting Leo about that "Don't kill yourself for a corpse" line? Because I just *know* he had a lot of feelings about that, diversion or no. 👀👀

Me: That should be pretty straightforward Me: ...only now I want to address some other stuff, so-- /17 pages later

The Jupiter Jim figurines that April had put on the bedside stand were gone, replaced by a tray of Mikey’s paints, and Draxum’s (lab? Secret lair? He insisted it wasn’t a castle--) place was dead silent.

They were moving today. Donnie had declared their new residence-to-be hygienically and structurally sound enough to begin the shift over, but Leo was still benched. And Mikey was also benched—unfairly, as far as he was concerned, but Draxum had pushed for him to stay out of the heavy lifting.

(“There’s being able to lift a pound or two, and there’s being able to shift furniture and boxes. It’s a world of difference,” the old goat had said patiently. “Yes, you’re doing much better, but don’t try your luck.”

“But I can use my chains, they won’t weigh—”

“Ahhh, yes. Your chains. With your mystic energy. And what have we said about using your mystic energy?”)

Donnie had told him outright to be thankful he had an excuse to sit this out. But it was Raph who mollified him by pointing out that leaving Leo here entirely on his own probably wouldn’t be the greatest of ideas. Both because he was still hurt and might need help, would be feeling kind of useless and in need of morale—and because a lonely and bored Leo was often a dumb Leo, and if he would listen to anyone and just stay put, it was gonna be Mikey.

And fair. Sometimes Leo definitely required a Delicate Touch.

Today, he’d apply one of a different kind.

Leo’s shell was a mess of fibreglass patches and newly sealed cracks still fragile in some places—Donnie had come up with a thin protective cover for the bulk of them, but the whole look wasn’t pretty and his brother was self-conscious about it. Not that he’d said as much, but the fact that he pulled the blanket right up over it even when it was warm spoke volumes.

Also, Mikey’s fingers itched every time he looked at it. He wanted to make it look awesome. Hence--

“Give me some suggestions?” Leo said. “You’re the artist.”

“Could do a cool dragon?”

“Mmm. Yeah.”

Well, that was noncommittal. He thought Leo would like a dragon. Mikey frowned. “You know I’ll paint whatever you want. I don’t care what it is.”

Leo chuckled. “Well, that’s way open to abuse.”

“I’m serious!”

“Hmm.”

And he was quiet again. This time, Mikey frowned at him. Was it time for morale boosts already? It seemed a bit early--

“Hey.”

“Mmm, yeah, I’m thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking abooout… how I can abuse your mad painting skills?”

“Leo.”

“Seriously, what if I got you to draw, like, a terrible cartoon of Barry falling off a roof or something.”

“...really?”

“You did say anything.”

Mikey narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I mean sure, if that’s what you really want.” Though it was such a cheap shot he didn’t think Leo even tried with that one; it felt more like misdirection. “Didn’t know you were so obsessed with him you wanted a reminder painted on you, but—”

“Oh pizza supreme, ew.” Leo shuddered, mashing his face into the pillow. “When you put it like that—”

“So what are you thinking about?”

“Rude.”

“Answer the question, Leon.”

“Ruder. No privacy. Maybe I’m thinking that I miss pizza.”

“You get some tomorrow.”

“What about now?” he whined.

“Leo?”

“Miguel.”

“Do you not want me to paint your shell?” Leo hesitated, and Mikey squinted at him. “We don’t have to.”

“...it’s not that,” Leo muttered, muffled by the pillow. “I do, but…”

Time to pull out the big guns. He flopped onto the bed next to him, offering his best puppy eyes and trembling lip when Leo shifted to face him. “Do you think I’ll do a bad job?”

“What?” Leo pulled back a little, looking panicked. “Of course not! You’re amazing, I just—”

Mikey grinned at him cheerfully. And then stuck his tongue out for good measure.

“—who taught you how to weaponise that, seriously.”

“You did.”

Leo swallowed a laugh. “Okay, okay. Fine. Give me your hand.”

“Huh?”

His brother held out a hand, beckoning, and Mikey obliged him by taking it. Leo instantly turned his hand over, pushing gently along the joints. “That hurt?”

...oh. That’s what was going on. It said a lot that Mikey hadn’t even thought about injury stress; his arms had been behaving themselves for days now. It was possible, he guessed.

On the other hand, he hadn’t painted in weeks. He missed it. And he wanted Leo to like his shell. So he pulled back, deliberately shaking his hands out and wiggling his fingers, smiling wryly as Leo winced. “Promise I’m good. In more ways than one, baby!”

“Yeah, but what if it starts hurting halfway through?” Leo made a face. “Then I’ll be stuck with half a dragon or something and probably, like, the lamer part. There’ll be a dragon’s ass on my shell and everyone’ll make fun of me.”

Mikey sighed, seeing the whining for the thinly disguised concern it was. It was touching, but he could feel the annoyance starting to bubble up. Of all of them, Leo was the one that generally didn’t baby him. He managed a smile. “We do that already.”

“Shh, let me live in denial. Anywhizzle--”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t ready,” he said, sharper than he intended. (Probably because that wasn’t entirely true—okay, he hadn’t given any thought to it before this, but after reflection, he was pretty sure--)

“You sure about that?”

Leo said it...lightly. For the most part.

Maybe Mikey just imagined the strain underneath, or maybe it was because he was already riled, but the doubtful look on his brother’s face made him bristle defensively. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?” Leo paused. “Nothing, I’m just kidding around.”

“You sure about that?”

And this time Leo frowned at Mikey’s mocking tone and shifted gingerly to face him more directly, hugging a pillow to his chest. “Whoa, okay, I honestly didn’t mean anything by it, I’m just… making sure.”

“Why?”

“...you seriously have to ask?”

“Yeah, actually,” Mikey said flatly, fingers tapping a rhythm on the protective sheet. He just wanted to paint. “I’m more than okay. I’m fine, Leo.”

“Annnd you’ve said that before.”

“I—” He paused.

(“Fine! Just fine. You?”

“Fine. Just fine.”)

Again, oh.

(“You’re both liars and I don’t see why you bother.”)

Mikey let a breath out. Sure, okay. He still felt tetchy about this, but Leo had a point. But it took two to have that conversation, and if they were gonna talk about recklessness--

--and oh, for the third time. He got it now, why he was so hair-trigger irritated. There was a ninja damned elephant in the room.

One thing at a time.

“It’s just painting,” Mikey said finally, voice even. “It’s not like I’m using any kind of mystic mojo and I can stop any time it starts to hurt. I can paint something that can be done in pieces, no dragon asses necessary.”

Leo blinked at him, and then mustered up a lopsided smile. “I dunno. What if dragon asses are my thing?”

He could take that offer for what it was; Leo attempting to walk their conversation back from an edge. For a moment, Mikey was tempted. He just wanted to do something nice for his brother and artistic and prove he could still--

Still paint. He could. He had no trouble at dinner, no trouble lugging Dad’s casserole, and now Leo was making him second guess himself when Leo was absolutely the biggest hypocrite in the room for this kinda thing.

“...Angelo?”

And man, now his brother wouldn’t even let him second guess himself in peace! Rude. He leaned forward to rummage through his paints, voice flat. “What.”

“...hey.” Hesitant and soft. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, belittle you, that’s not what this is about.”

“That’s a big word for you.” As soon as he said it—heard the snap of his words leave his mouth—Mikey cringed. Especially as Leo stilled on the bed, then sank down into the pillows again, face blank. Okay, he didn’t deserve that. If Mikey didn’t want to be babied, he shouldn’t be a brat.

So he gave an overly long, dramatic Mermista-style groan and flopped back down on his back next to his brother. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m just… I’m frustrated. It’s been a while. And you were the last person I expected this from!”

“I get it,” Leo said quietly. “You got stuck here on babysitting duty, you’re already feeling left out.”

“That’s not it. Well, not all of it.” He hesitated, stretching his hands up to link behind his head, voice innocent. “Um… I was so caught up in the euphoria of being able to paint your shell that for a minute I lived in a world where mystic backlash didn’t exist…?”

There was a long moment of silence.

And then Mikey grinned a little as Leo raised his head to glare at him. “You did not just apple juice meme at me.”

“I sure did, Leon. Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Ask you nicely to brain yourself with a pillow,” Leo said grumpily. “I’m keeping count, you know.”

“Oh, I bet.”

They lay there in companionable silence.

“I was looking forward to it, too.” Leo said after a while. “I mean, I even let you put the sheet down. It’s only after that we—look, we both forgot, okay? And then I panicked, because I’m not meant to forget that kind of thing. What if you get hurt because I encouraged you?”

“Hmm.” Okay, that was a fair, kind of dumb but standard Leo reaction. “I kind of get it, except for the part where you’re not responsible for my life choices.”

“Yeah, but I’m enabling them. Raph would—”

“Raph would get exasperated at me for pulling a dumb stunt! This isn’t like… being out fighting bad guys and for some reason your plan means I have to hurt myself painting.”

“Close enough,” Leo said, barely audible.

Mikey shifted up onto his elbows, looking at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry, what? Did I hear that correctly?”

“Mmf.” Leo dropped his face back into the pillow. “Sorry. Forget it, I’m just—”

“Oh no, we are not forgetting it, son.” Mikey sat back up again, folding his arms like a disapproving parent. “Seriously? Are we doing this now?”

“Can we go back to the part where you were going to paint, like, something easy and—”

“Hell no. Leo.” Mikey poked him in the shoulder-- the good one, because he wasn’t a complete jerk. “I don’t remember any point where you had a say in my portal choices. Oh, wait! Yes I do! And your say was dumb and I ignored it—”

Leo blinked at him, baffled. “You-- what? I never—”

“Aha!” Mikey pointed at him triumphantly. “You can’t have it both ways. Either you’re responsible or you’re not, which is it?”

“No, I’m seriously lost,” Leo said blankly. “Putting aside the whole responsibility or feeling guilt or whatever, I get it, we’ll come back to that (maybehopefullynever) but when did you ignore me? I don’t remember saying anything to you about portals.”

For a moment, Mikey was just. Speechless. Because he could infer two things from that, and he hated both of them. One, that Leo had absolutely talked about his portals, just not with him. And two…

“You don’t remember,” he said, irritation shifting into genuine anger. His voice rose with every word. “The warehouse? That cheap action hero line you threw at me while you were hanging like so much netted roadkill? ‘Doesn’t ring a bell?’ Seriously!?”

Recognition dawned on Leo’s face, and he mouthed something silently—a sentence that he recognised because it had been on Mikey’s mind, on and off, that he’d muttered to himself in the bathroom sometimes, that he couldn’t decide whether it was a cool line or something Leo needed to be slapped for, and that he’d decided to maybe just try and let it go until Leo--

--did this. Forgot it.

Like it didn’t matter.

Don’t kill yourself for a corpse.

“Mikey,” Leo said faintly, and a helpless, placating smile twitched at the corners of his mouth for a moment before it faded under Mikey’s glare. “That was just stalling.”

“Was it?”

“Yes!” he snapped. “That wasn’t a-- I thought you knew! Do you really think I’d just encourage you to throw my life away when help was very clearly gonna be on the way?”

Annnd there it was. Because yeah, actually. Leo had put his finger on it precisely without meaning to, and Mikey surged up off the bed. “You’ve done it before, Leo! Once is maybe stalling, but this is a pattern, and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—”

“Don’t whoa whoa whoa me!” Mikey bared his teeth. And his next words were pitched high and dramatic, hand to forehead. “’Don’t kill yourself for a corpse!’ ‘Casey, when I get to the other side, close that door!’ Actually yeah, now that I think about it, if you hadn’t been such a dumbass, I—”

Oh.

Oh, shit, way too far. Leo flinched as if struck, but he stayed staring at Mikey, eyes dark and shoulders hunched. Making himself small like he deserved it, when Mikey had been trying to point out his arms weren’t his responsibility. Good job, going the exact opposite direction.

“...fuck,” he whispered.

In a perfect world, Leo would blackmail him with threats to tell Raph about his swearing at this point. But his big brother said nothing, watching him in deathly silence.

Mikey covered his face. He was angry. He’d crossed a line. And for a long, yawning moment, he held still, hoping Leo would—snap back at him, or shove him off the bed, or be just as much a jerk back, like he’d been with Raph before the invasion, or that time at the pizzeria, or--

It was so quiet.

Oh, pizza supreme. “Leo,” he said, muffled into his hands. “I’m--”

Leo laughed, and Mikey snapped his head up in mix of confusion and dread, because that was not the correct response. But Leo’s giggling was brittle, and while he was lounging on the pillows like he was so entertained, he was staring past Mikey like he wasn’t there. Something curdled in his gut. “Leo…?”

“You can’t have it both ways, mi hermano,” Leo said, and his tone was so absolutely curated smartass that Mikey cringed. “Either I’m responsible or I’m not, which is it?”

“Don’t,” Mikey said tightly, “Throw my words back at me.”

“Why not? Seems to be a common thing today.”

“You know it’s not what I meant!”

“Seems we got a lot of that going around, too.”

Leo’s humour faded—what there was of it—and now he just looked tired. He shifted awkwardly onto his side to face away from Mikey. “Sorry,” he muttered. “You’re gonna have to tell Raph you weren’t the best choice for the whole morale thing. He’ll understand.”

Words chosen to hurt. They lost their bite when delivered so expressionlessly, and Mikey swallowed against a stupid, stupid desire to cry, because now he was angry and frustrated and guilty and a little heartbroken, and dammit, this was so important, he couldn’t let it slide, but he…

...kinda got why Raph and Leo were at each other’s throats all the time.

He wasn’t going to be the same.

“I have three doctorates,” he muttered.

And waited. For Leo to snort, to cut him down and say sure, and I have a medical degree. With stickers. Which makes it better than yours.

But Leo said nothing. After a moment, he hitched the blanket up to wrap over his shell again, and that felt more like a dismissal than anything else.

Mikey curled his hands into fists. Clenched them hard, just because he could. Because it didn’t hurt anymore, not like before. “I have three doctorates,” he repeated flatly, “And I probably should be taking my own advice, huh. You want more words thrown back at you? I’m not yelling at you because I’m mad. I’m—I’m freaking terrified, Leo! Because you nearly died like three times in the last couple weeks, and two of those times you just kind of… leaned right into it, and I don’t—don’t want there to be a fourth time—”

“You think I do?”

Leo’s response was barely audible, but his head had tilted back just enough for Mikey to know he was paying attention. And man, it was getting harder not to just burst into tears, but then Leo would probably either have to shift into comfort mode (and everything would get derailed) or he’d ignore Mikey entirely and that would feel worse. He compromised by flopping back onto the bed, curling up against Leo’s blankets, and found his voice again. He’d say what he had to say first.

“I don’t know,” he said softly. “That’s why, okay? I just—you just seem to keep going for the option that gets you dead lately. You can’t do that to us.”

“I mean, apparently I can,” Leo murmured bitterly. “Seeing as I’ve done it twice.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s not funny.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“...I don’t know what I want you to say, either.” Nothing felt right.

“Okay, here’s a start,” Leo said flatly. “If you think I’m trying to throw my life away—”

“No!”

“If you don’t think that, what exactly are you accusing me of?”

“I’m not! I’m—” His voice cracked, and Mikey bit off another curse under his breath. And then went fuck it and vanished into the cool dark of his shell, so he wouldn’t have to stare at Leo’s back any more. So Leo wouldn’t turn and catch his tears that were falling without his permission because he cried at the drop of a hat and--

“I’m just scared.”

There was a pause, and a creak of the bed. And a long silence.

Mikey sniffled as quietly as he could.

Another creak.

Then Leo’s voice sounded closer, a little more gentle.

“I had a nightmare about you.”

He blinked. That wasn’t what he expected.

“Uh-- I kind of know?” He remembered the details vividly enough-- the warehouse, Sister Krang snapping his neck, way awful. But this was after the warehouse, so--

“Raph told you?” Leo said in confusion. “I mean, I never gave him the details...”

--that wasn’t right. Mikey peered out from his shell to see Leo peering back, and his brother gave him a tiny smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was encouraging. “No, I, um… remember how we mind melded at the warehouse? It kind of stuck around during all your fever dreams.”

“Oh.” Leo frowned. “I don’t really remember those.”

“Good,” Mikey said fervently. “Don’t. They’re awful.”

“Heh. Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” He sank back into his shell, but he felt a little better. Leo wasn’t being so cold. He hated it when Leo was cold. “So this was another dream…?”

“...yeah. It was a while ago, right after you showed me your arms that first time. Before… Raph.”

Oh, right. Before everything went to hell. (Again. Hah.)

“I dreamt about you opening the portal,” Leo went on quietly, “And you were trying to save me, and you kind of… just broke apart. Shattered to pieces. And I had to watch that, and the portal closed, and I-- I was stuck and you were—”

Oh.

(If he had a nickel for every time he’d thought oh in the last ten minutes--)

“I didn’t want to be there, Mikey. I promise, I really, really enjoy, you know, being alive. I love you guys! I’m not secretly harbouring a death wish, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was a lot quieter.

“But that terror—it goes both ways, you know?”

He felt Leo lay hands on his shell and try to lift him into a hug.

Which was… very sweet until reality kicked in and he popped back out in alarm just in time to see his big brother go pale.

“Oh my god, Leo!” He scrambled out fully, wiping at his face before he helped Leo settle back, and he couldn’t help the faintly hysterical giggle. “You really are a dumbass.”

“...I did it on purpose to get you to come out…?” Leo’s voice was wheezy, and he gave Mikey a watery smile.

“Liar.”

“Okay, you got me.” He wilted against the pillows. “But not about the important stuff, okay?”

“Idiot,” Mikey muttered without heat. He patted at Leo’s shoulder. “Need meds?”

“...nah. It’s actually not too bad, I just need a minute.”

“Okay.” He paused. Argument maybe averted, but… he wasn’t done. He could just do this a little less meanly. Especially if Leo was willing to talk to him.

“I do believe you,” he said after a moment, because that was important.

“Okay, good.”

“So… you did the whole heroic cool death wish line because you were scared I was gonna get hurt?”

Leo huffed in amusement, but his tiny smile faded. “Mostly, yeah. I was trying to buy you time. And my first attempt just got you hurt more, so… I went the rage route.”

Oh yeah. Leo asking for permission to treat his wounds. That had gone poorly, to say the least. Mikey smiled weakly. “Well, you picked a winner. I got so mad at you.” He still was, but it felt a little better, to pick at this.

“Yeah, well, the Bubblegum Bitch ran on murder and spite. I figured she’d love to see us screaming at each other. And…”

He hesitated.

“And?” Mikey prompted.

Leo closed his eyes. “I didn’t think I could handle watching you open a portal to... that place. Not with the damage it did the first time. Not ever again because of me. I’m not the only one who nearly died here, y’know.”

Mikey frowned. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t try that with me, Mikey.”

He shut his mouth with a snap. Took a deep breath, because he wasn’t going to yell again, and this was… a softer kind of hurt. He got it. He was starting to get Leo. So he had to continue.

“You think I could handle watching you die because I didn’t open one?” He was proud of how even his voice was. Hah. The doctor was back in session. “You said it yourself, terror goes both ways. Stalling can only go so far. By definition!”

“Okay, at this point we’re gonna end up going in circles,” Leo said dryly. “They’re both valid points, okay? But if you can understand why you risked your life in there, can you get why I’d do the same?”

“...because we’re both idiots?” he muttered.

Leo snorted a faint laugh. And Mikey finally grinned at him, before sobering. Because…

“What about before?”

Leo’s face shuttered blank so fast he almost regretted asking.

Almost.

Especially as the look broke a moment later under a lazy smile, which set his teeth on edge. “You’re gonna have to narrow it down a bit, little bro.”

Okay. If he was gonna be like that.

“Mhm, mm-hmm.” Mikey nodded, shifting enough to sit cross-legged on the bed, and pretended to write into a notebook. “Patient very sensitive on this subject, a little too late on deflecting comment and accompanying I am full of shit smile…”

“Oh, for-- you can’t doctor me, you don’t have your stupid doctor glasses.”

“Patient deflecting more… by making… immersion-breaking jokes—” He broke off and mimed looking over a pair of imaginary glasses at Leo and grinned cheekily through the churning in his gut. Two could play at this game. “All our stuff is packed. You’re gonna have to pretend, bro.”

“I don’t want to,” Leo said flatly, smile gone. “I’m not in the mood for imaginary doctors today. Can’t you just be Mikey?”

“I don’t know, can I?” Mikey retorted, voice still even. Never mind he probably still had drying tear tracks on his face. “Because apparently you can’t talk to Mikey.”

“I can talk to you just fine!”

“Without babying me.”

“I’m not—”

“Or lying. You know exactly what ‘before’ I’m talking about! I mean, how often do you throw yourself through one way portals, anyway?”

“As Dee would say, approximately never, because I can honestly say I’ve never thrown myself through a one way portal in my—”

Mikey slammed his hand down on the bedside stand so hard his paint bottles shook, two of them outright teetering and falling off the edge. Leo flinched back, sentence unfinished, his expression frozen somewhere between jackass and terrified.

“Really?” he hissed. “You’re gonna deflect now by splitting hairs?”

Leo blinked, mouth still hanging open for a moment before he collected himself. “Very professional observation,” he said faintly, voice shaking. “You should write that down in your imaginary notebook! Also, I’m pretty sure therapists aren’t meant to terrify their patients. You could lose your imaginary license and then where would we be?”

Mikey stared at him, face dark and arms folded. “And now you’re deflecting by pissing me off.”

Leo held his stare for maybe three seconds before he broke and rolled away—gingerly, clearly painfully—to face the wall again. “’m sorry. I really just wanna… I don’t know. Get my shell painted. Can we talk about this some other day?”

Mikey sucked in a breath, loudly and obnoxiously, because he wanted Leo to know he was angry. Then he rolled to collect the bottles that had fallen to the floor. The red one hadn’t been closed properly and he winced at the flecks on Draxum’s carpet. Maybe they could claim it was blood. He’d probably be less outraged, all things considered.

He knew as well as Leo there would be no other day. If this didn’t get talked about now, he’d be looking forward to Leo making sure they weren’t in the same room alone together for weeks. He was angry enough he wondered spitefully for a moment if he should beat him to it and ignore his lying ass like a--

...like a wound up little brother who was easily riled by someone who knew exactly which buttons to press. Sure, Leo would feel like shit about it, but Leo would also be relieved. Dodged that therapist bullet, right? Enough time would pass it would be too hard to bring up again.

Until the next time he pulled this stunt. (Leo wasn’t a cat, he didn’t have nine freaking lives--)

“Was there really no other way?” he asked bluntly.

Leo hunched in on himself with a faint hiss, and Mikey sat there behind him, his arms full of paint, and wondered how far to push. He wanted to know. Leo had said there was no death wish, and Mikey believed him about his reasoning in the warehouse. If it wasn’t for how Leo shut him down immediately when he asked more directly, he’d have let this go. There was something he was missing.

He had to push the right way, though. Demanding answers from a traumatised person was, okay, maybe not the best strategy? And Leo was absolutely traumatised, no matter how many shit eating grins he’d thrown over the last few weeks while being half dead. (And then half dead again.) He’d come back out of Mikey’s portal a complete mess and hadn’t talked about it since. Krang Prime had been terrifying before his only target had been his brother.

And Leo had deliberately locked himself in with a murderous alien because…

Hero moves are totally your style.

...because that’s what heroes do?

Bullshit.

“How’s your hand?”

Leo’s question took him by surprise—and hurt besides, with how colourless his tone was. Mikey frowned at him before he looked down at his hands, and—right. Probably losing his temper and hitting furniture wasn’t very, uh, wise. But he flexed his fingers, answering in a subdued voice. “Fine.”

...he had an idea. Take a page out of Leo’s book, lure him in with less threatening subjects. Mikey paused, biting his lip, knowing this could also backfire-- but if it did, it would be less devastating than the direct route. He could try again later.

So he sighed. “And… fine. I’ll let it go.”

“For now, huh.”

“...forever, if you need me to. I just—wanted to understand,” he said, turning away to start stacking the paint bottles neatly on the dresser again. “I know we weren’t there to help, and I’m sorry—”

“Do not apologise for that,” Leo cut in sharply. “You got slammed into free fall and nearly died. What kind of jerk do you think I am?”

“But Raph had to come after us and you were alone.” And that hurt to remember. His hands trembled. “And then you didn’t even warn us. You didn’t even say goodbye. You just jumped straight to—”

“There wasn’t time for anything else,” Leo whispered. “At least, I didn’t think there was. Okay?”

--that was progress. Mikey leaned forward eagerly, ready to push for more detail-- and then hesitated. He’d just said he would let it go.

So he made himself shut up and sit there quietly, hands in his lap, fingers curled inward so he didn’t fidget.

And waited.

“...Yeah, I keep thinking now about other stuff I might have been able to do,” Leo said finally. “And like, it’s all maybes and what ifs and maybe none of it would have worked and maybe some of it would have, but there wasn’t any time, and I’m not-- I mean, it’s easy to come up with stuff after. I still don’t know if I could have made a better choice. Okay? I just did… I did what I had to. It wasn’t some grand gesture or, like, ‘oh no, this is all my fault, I’ll throw my life away to fix it,’ it was-- we’d never get another chance, and I couldn’t live with what would happen if we lost.”

…

Right, so there was a lot to unpack there.

“You think the invasion is your fault?” he asked cautiously.

“Not… really,” Leo said, and Mikey wished he’d turn around again so he could see his brother’s face. “Like, you know, I get it. The Foot and the Krang are more to blame for this than me, but I was stupid. So there’s fault, and then there’s responsibility. If I hadn’t messed around and lost the key, maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this far. But I guess I don’t know that for sure?”

That sounded very much like someone had already had a go at him about this. His money would be on Donnie. What Mikey wanted to know, though, was whether Leo really meant it or whether he was just rattling off someone else’s argument.

“You also got the key back,” he pointed out, and Leo snorted.

“Yeah,” he said flatly. “At Raph’s expense.”

Mikey winced-- okay yeah, wrong tack to take. There was a lot he could say there about the fact that Raph was also capable of making his own choices, and he already knew Raph would prefer the whole temporary possession and scarred eye and shell over a dead brother. Just as he knew he would never, ever convince Leo of that, because they were all the same in that regard. It was hard, watching someone get hurt trying to protect you.

So hard. Mikey knew.

“Did you…” He paused, swallowed. Curled up on the bed itself, his shell to Leo’s, knees up to his chest. Maybe this was easier. “Did you think you had to make up for it? Is that why?”

He wasn’t sure if Leo’s soft huff of amusement was a good or a bad sign. “I already said. No death wishes.” His tone was more gentle than cutting, so that was hopeful. “Not on the alien ship, not in the warehouse. Just let it go.”

That wasn’t actually an answer to the question. Guilt could make you do so much stupid shit, and Leo still wanted him to drop it, which means there was more to this--

I couldn’t live with what would happen if we lost.

Mikey blinked.

“I need an oh jar,” he muttered.

“...yeah, because that makes sense.”

“Leo,” Mikey said evenly. “What did Casey say to you?”

There was a brief silence, and then Leo responded with genuine confusion. “Okay, that one you really are gonna have to narrow down—”

“About the future he came from.”

And from the way he heard Leo’s breath stutter to a halt, Mikey had his answer.

---------

He waited. Long enough to hear Leo unfreeze, breathing slow with just the faintest hint of shakiness. Long enough that he finally evened out, and Mikey kept still while he did it, not even touching him, back to back. He wanted to-- wanted to kind of turn and latch onto Leo and hug him, but from this angle he’d end up hurting a whole lot more than he’d help, so… in the end, he just gave him space.

Somewhere down the hall, one of Draxum’s clocks chimed.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Dumb question.”

“Hmm. Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that one. Will you please talk about it?”

“What’s the point?” Leo was barely audible. “It’s over now, not gonna happen. We just need to look after the one person it did happen for.”

“I think Casey’d disagree.”

“Casey has enough on his plate.”

“Well, he’s not here right now anyway. If there’s no point, why don’t you tell me?”

“Already covered that I don’t want to.”

The thing is, just by not telling him, Leo had basically confirmed for Mikey some pretty obvious key factors. This time he deliberately quashed the irritation at the thought of being babied. He got it. He did.

“So,” he said slowly, eventually, “I’m gonna assume you’re trying to protect me. Or us. From horrible, terrible, no good, bad future knowledge. Am I right?”

Leo’s silence was confirmation enough.

Mikey took a deep breath. Okay. He had it now. He hoped. (He also didn’t hope, because it was so bleak, but--)

“You know,” he said quietly, voice deliberately oh so casual, “When someone, like, drops in from some futuuure timeline—add reverb—to change the course of history, it kinda means that whichever future he came from is a lost cause. That much is obvious, you know?”

Silence.

Mikey sat up, glancing down at the huddle that was his brother.

“I know Donnie dies,” he said, and watched Leo flinch. He knew how Donnie died. That part, he would leave out just in case. “Raph woulda died before all of us. April—”

He stopped. The point was made and he was being cruel enough already. “I know I was still there at the end. So were you. Because we were the ones who sent him here.”

“Yeah,” Leo said quietly. “You opened a portal through time. Pretty amazing, bro.”

He smiled at that, a little sadly. “I know, right?”

“Be more amazing if you’d survived doing it.”

He’d figured as much, but hearing it still sent a sliver of nausea through him. And if Leo had known that much, the nightmares about Mikey shattering would just have been icing on the cake. And--

And--

“Everyone died,” he said, eyes wide. “Everyone. Except you.”

The way Leo tried to curl into himself at that could not be healthy for his injuries. This time Mikey did reach out, both hands patting at his brother’s shoulder tentatively before he latched on, trying to discourage the pretzeling. “Lee—”

“I know.”

“It didn’t happen!”

“I know!” Leo snapped. “Because I made sure it couldn’t!”

Mikey let go-- half startled by the outburst, half taken by surprise when Leo threw him off, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Also not a good idea because Leo had barely managed standing earlier, so what the hell he thought he was doing-- but apparently he was content to sit on the edge of the mattress, using his good arm to keep himself propped up, his entire body curled away from his little brother.

Well. Too bad. Mikey crawled over the bed to sit next to him. And when Leo didn’t move away again, he huffed and wormed his way under that arm, offering a better support. Leo was rigid against him, but he didn’t flinch or try to push him away, so.

Win. Such as it was.

“I get it,” Mikey whispered.

“I didn’t want you to.”

“Yeah… I don’t get that part.”

“Because it’s—” Leo broke off, darting a look at him before he turned away. “It’s all I could think of. I made a big speech about how we could change the future after all, and then when you guys got knocked down, all I could think was that we’d tried so hard, and we still lost, and—and I thought-- I wasn’t thinking. I mean I was, but it was stupid and—”

He hadn’t heard Leo stammer around the point like this in a long time, and Mikey tipped his head against his shoulder, wrapping his arms around Leo’s. “s’not stupid, bro. Like—it’s a high stress situation, y’know? D’you think me or Donnie or Raph were coming up with super logical plans while we were raining into Staten Island? You know how that place drains your smarts away.”

That got a laugh out of Leo, at least, a half hiccupped one, and he shifted a little closer. He didn’t relax; Mikey could feel the tension practically vibrating through him, and he knew what was coming. He could probably cut to the chase now and sum it up for Leo in points so he didn’t have to.

He waited. It was better that way.

“I just...didn’t.” Leo said finally. “Didn’t—want to go through that. You know, I wasn’t being heroic or a martyr or whatever, I was being a coward, okay? Because Casey told me everyone died in the future—everyone—and I thought: if we lose here, I’m gonna have to live that future. You know, twenty years in a war we’re gonna lose so slowly, watching everyone die one by one until I’m the only one left, and I was terrified and I can’t—I can’t, Mikey, if it’s a choice between me and literally everyone else, you can’t ask me to watch everyone die—”

And his voice cracked and Leo shut up, and Mikey carefully shuffled up onto his knees and curled his arms around his brother’s neck and held on. Leo planted his face in the crook of Mikey’s neck, shoulders trembling.

But when he spoke, his voice was small, but very dry. “This is gonna be real painful in about thirty seconds, just warning—”

“Then shut the hell up and get back on the bed, idiot.”

Leo sniffled, voice even tinier. “Yes, Dr Therapist, sir.”

“Good boy.”

“Don’t tell the others?”

“Doctor patient confidentiality.”

“’kay. Good.”

Leo turned away, shuffling back onto the bed to collapse onto the pillows. Mikey hovered, not really sure what to do next. Did he leave him alone? Give him space? He’d normally just drape himself on Leo’s shell, but that wasn’t exactly a good idea, so--

The question was answered for him when Leo waved a hand in his general direction, looking for a limb to grab, and Mikey helpfully gave him an arm-- and was yanked down beside his brother who curled around him like he was a teddy bear, hiding his face again. Mikey wheezed, a faint mix of relief and amusement. “Oh, okay, it’s gonna be like this—”

“Shh,” Leo said, muffled and sodden-sounding. “Therapy’s over.”

The face against his neck was wet. Mikey held still for a moment, swallowing against his own tears, and then gave a small sigh, putting a hand on Leo’s head.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I guess it is.”

---------

They lay there for a while. Mikey was perfectly content to be used as a teddy bear and kept his mouth shut, letting Leo get it out of his system, running his thumb over the ridges of the blue mask as his brother shook apart so quietly. As if he were ashamed of letting go. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was crying on his little brother. Mikey supposed that was breaking some kind of sibling hierarchy or some shit. Whatever.

He hadn’t really meant for the afternoon to go this way—it was kind of the opposite of a morale boost—but if this was the weight that his brother had been carrying around, better to deal with it now. Especially when nobody else was around to overhear.

(...he wasn’t really sure the others shouldn’t know about this. But unless it became an issue, for now, he’d do as Leo asked.)

“You’re not a coward, you know,” he said, much later. He doubted it was hours. He’d only heard Barry’s clock once. But Leo had stopped his ninja stealth crying into the crook of Mikey’s neck, so it was time.

“Mmm, ‘kay.”

“Don’t mmm ’kay me.” Mikey poked him. “I’m serious. I mean, what do you think a hero’s motivations are, anyway? They’re not doing it for the sake of looking all fancy for the camera. Or if they are, they’re not really a hero. They’re like-- that guy from Megamind, what’shisface, the Nice Guy—”

“Hal Stewart.”

“Exactly. And they don’t run around thinking, like—” He let go of Leo for a moment to air quote, even though Leo hadn’t resurfaced, not really. “’Egads, what is the most noble thing I can do at this exact point in time?’ Real heroes aren’t like… comic book heroes.”

Leo huffed a little against him. “You’re lucky I’m emotionally vulnerable right now or I’d have to throw hands.”

Mikey grinned. There he was. “Better keep you emotionally vulnerable then.”

“A supervillain move if I ever heard one.”

“That’s me, baby! I’m so lucky I have all these moral brothers to guide me to the side of the light.”

“Plus Donnie.”

“Oh yeah, plus that guy. I guess.”

This time, the huff sounded more like a laugh. Mikey snuggled in closer, gave him a moment to relax, and then made his next point, as softly as he could.

“Why do you think Raph protected you?”

He felt the jolt go through Leo at that—felt a little guilty, it was kind of an ambush—but his brother was only rigid against him for a moment before relaxing again by degrees, and Mikey was relieved. Leo’s brain was online. And when Leo answered, he sounded more confused than upset.

“Because he’s a big brother? Because he saw me screw up and he didn’t want me getting hurt?”

“Mhm, mhm. Scared for you, right? Would rather take the fall than watch you get skewered?”

“...yeah.”

Oh, the guilt laden into that word. He couldn’t do much about that, except maybe push him and Raph together to talk it out at some point. “I see. So Raph’s a coward?”

“Wait, what?” Leo pulled back to stare at him in affront, eyes swollen and mask damp and not bothering to hide it in the least. “Raph’s the bravest one here, why would you—”

“My, my. Would you look at those double standards.” Mikey tsked at him, and waited for the penny to drop. And Leo was just as smart as Donnie, in his own way; it took him a bare second to frown and lean back, squinting at him, mouth half open like he was trying and failing to come up with an argument. “It’s not cowardly to protect the people you care about. It’s, like, the opposite. You did it in a really reckless way and yeah, maybe there was a better way, but if anyone tries to accuse you of cowardice, I’m gonna throw hands. That includes you, bee tee dubs.”

Leo blinked, and Mikey could practically see the calculation flashing across his expression. He wasn’t surprised when Leo all-out pouted at him. “Oh, I see how it is. Picking on an injured turtle when he’s down.”

Mikey gave him a flat look that said I know what you’re doing.

Leo’s pout turned into a sheepish smile. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I’ll keep any such thoughts of cowardice to myself then, wallow in them when your back is turned—”

Mikey swatted at him with a glare. “You won’t think them at all! Leonardo—” And paused as Leo’s smile sharpened into a grin, his reddened eyes bright with genuine humour. “Ohhh, someone’s feeling better! Good.” He smiled sweetly back, then pushed Leo’s face away from him with a hand. “But for serious, you might be kinda dumb sometimes, but you are like. The bravest coolest brother—”

“Mmm, I still think Raph is the bravest. I humbly accept coolest, though.”

“I’ll allow it.” He watched Leo another moment, then pulled away to scramble carefully over him for the bedside table, reasonably sure the crisis was over. “You still up to painting?”

There was a pause. Leo’s face screwed up hesitantly. “...you sure? I mean, not because of your hands, but—”

“We still got time.” He flipped a paintbrush up and deftly spun it between his fingers, giving Leo a pointed look. “And I hate not finishing an art piece once I start.”

“Have we started, though?” Leo said mildly. But he was already obediently shuffling back onto his stomach, propping the pillows up beneath his elbows.

“Therapy is art.”

“I’m not sure that’s correct.”

“I’m the one with the doctorates, shush now.”

“But you’re—”

“Uh-buh-buh-buh—” Mikey settled by Leo’s side, bonking his head gently with his brush. And time for one last ambush question. “Leo. If we’d still been up there with you at the end, do you think it might have gone differently?”

To his great relief, Leo didn’t even flinch at that one—he merely tilted his head, humming thoughtfully. Mikey gave him time, fishing through his bottles until he could find the right colours to make the mix he wanted.

If he was holding his breath a little, well… that wasn’t important. Turtles could hold their breath for a very long time.

“Hard to say,” Leo said softly. “But I’d like to think so. I mean, I could barely get him through the portal on my own. But the four of us definitely had him off balance for a while there, right? If we were all still up there… I mean. Let’s face it. We’re so much stronger together.”

Mikey sighed with relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Leo about the death wish thing, but hearing it summed up like that made him feel a lot better. Especially when Leo frowned and twisted to catch his eye. “You better not feel guilty about that part, by the way.”

“Guilty? Nah.” He did a little, but Mikey also knew they’d done their best. “Bad that you got left on your own, yeah. We’re a team! It was hard...you know.” He smiled a little weakly. “Not being up there with you.”

“It was hard watching you fall.” Leo relaxed, letting his head drop onto the pillows. “Don’t tell him, but I was so glad when Raph got on the line, even if he was mad at me. It meant you guys had all got down safely.”

“He wasn’t mad,” Mikey pointed out.

“...I know. Bad choice of words.” Leo took a breath, sighed it out, sounding sleepy. “Scared.”

“Scary day.”

“Tell me about it. Wait, on second thought, don’t.” Leo waved a hand at him, not looking up. “Better idea. Tell me what you’re gonna paint instead.”

Yeah, time to change subject. Mikey hummed thoughtfully at him, leaning down off the bed to collect his tray. “I’m thinking… flowers.”

“Flowers, huh.”

“Yeah.” He traced dark edges of Leo’s repaired shell with the very tip of his brush, watching his brother carefully to see if it bothered him. When Leo didn’t move, he shifted back to mix paints. “They’ll be great at masking the damage, and if I have to stop for any reason, it won’t look weird. I’m thinking, hmm… marigolds, petunias… what’s a good red flower that isn’t a rose…”

Was that too pointed a comment? Probably. He grinned, counting the seconds until Leo lifted his head again, shifting to squint at him with suspicion.

“...red, orange, and purple?”

“Yeah,” he said innocently. “Great colour combo, don’t you think?”

“I feel you’re trying to tell me something.”

“Of course I am, dummy.” Mikey smiled at him. The sweetest, most sunshine smile he had at his disposal. “It’s a reminder that we’ve always got your back, no matter what.”

Leo stared back at him with an expression that was—just for a moment, probably against his will—fragile.

Then he turned sharply back away to stare at the wall, giving a snort. “More like you’re always on my back, you mush-dispenser.”

Mikey bit back his laugh at that. Leo could have that one; let him save some face, just this once. “It’s not too late for a dragon’s ass, you know.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Barry could be riding on it!”

“Mikey—”

“And throwing you off it to your doom—”

“Oh my god, that’s low, you monster—”

“Actually I think it’s high, it wouldn’t be much of a doom otherwise, c’mon, Leo, keep up.”

“I’m gonna duct tape you inside your shell and play you like bongos for a week straight.”

“Looking forward to it! I’ll mark my calendar!” But Leo was shaking with laughter now. Mikey tapped the end of the brush on his shell in warning, and Leo obligingly tried to keep still, switching to a yawn instead. “I would never, don’t worry. Tired?”

“A little.”

“Then sleep. I’ll be here. I’ll wake you when it’s done.”

“...kay.” Leo snuggled into the pillows without arguing, and his next words were heavily muffled and more a tired mumble than anything else. “Lvvyou.”

Mikey paused. Then smiled a little, putting a hand on his shell for a moment. “Lvvyou too, bro.”

“Oh, shush.”

He cackled at that, but said nothing, listening to Leo’s breaths even out.

He knew Leo pretty well—enough to wonder how much Leo still hadn’t told him, diverting with jokes and sassy comments about wallowing in cowardice. But this was a start. And a relief. If nothing else, Leo had been genuine about his motivations, both at the warehouse and at the portal. Terror and love, nothing more, nothing less. Mikey flexed his hands out, testing them one last time, looking at the fading welts still criss-crossing up his arms.

He could relate.

[awakefor48hours]

I had a dream about this but I woke up prematurely so need help finishing it

Let's set the stage:

Version -- The only version of Vi is just from season 1 of Arcane (not from League of Legends) and the only Miles is just from Into the Spiderverse (not from any other Spider-Man/Marvel storyline)

Setting -- A metropolitan type area, similar to Undercity

That way they're in a situation that's catered to both of their strengths. Also to make it simple, there's no civilians nearby that they have to worry about.

Weapons -- They both have their normal weapons (Miles his web-shooters and Vi her gauntlets)

"But wait, I haven't seen Arcane" or "I haven't seen Into The Spiderverse" you might be saying. Well, under the cut are ways to understand their abilities more/basically a copy and paste of their wiki pages.

I've also made this playlist of all their fights in order so you can actually and understand see how strong they are and how they've changed throughout their story. (I still recommend giving below the cut a read).

Miles

Powers/Abilities

Wall Crawling -- Like any other spiderbeing, Miles can stick to walls.

Camouflage -- Miles can turn both his body and clothes invisible on command but if he's hit too hard, he can be visible again

Venom Strike -- Miles can control electricity and let it flow through his hands and even through his webs.

Super Strength -- Miles can lift 10 tons (10,000 kg). He can run faster and even endure head trauma and heal pretty quickly with little to no consequences.

Super Agility -- Even before Miles was bitten, he was already pretty agile but ever since he was bitten, he's been more agile than usual. But after he was bitten, he's been even more agile

Spider Sense -- similar to other spiderbeings, Miles can sense danger and his reflexes can kick in before he has time to consciously react and it even puts his fighting ability on the same level of an experienced melee fighter.

Weakness -- Despite his spiderpowers giving him a boost, he's still pretty inexperienced.

Vi

Powers/Abilities

Even though Vi is just a human, she's not weak in the slightest. She's very strong and has even fought people who are on the same level as Scorpion or the Rhino and won.

Boxing -- Vi has experience with boxing(and has even been analyzed by boxing professionals that her form is good and she could absolutely wreck you in a fight). There's also a scoreboard that shows just how well the main crew of act 1 were and Vi was always on top.

Endurance -- Vi can withstand a lot of hits. She's often covered in blood but still able to find strength within to stand up and fight afterward. The only times she's ever really stayed down after a fight is when she's pushed herself too hard and was surprised attacked.

Atlas Gauntlets -- The Atlas Gauntlets were originally made for miners and are powered by hextech (if you haven't seen the show, the gauntlets run on magic). Even though Vi has only been shown to use gauntlets as weapons a few times in the show, each time she does, she absolutely bodies anyone who gets in her way.

Agility -- Along being very muscular, Vi is also pretty agile. Even after being in prison for 5 years, she parkours to travel to most places and is damn good at it (dare I say, she's nearly as a good as a spiderbeing).

Weakness -- Vi doesn't always think everything through before she fights. While she can definitely afford to be that way, she had pushed herself too far before which is noted by Ekko saying "and you still block with your face." And can even noted when she tried to make a tricky parkour jump after getting stabbed and needed help just to stand up.

Overall, they're both experienced fighters and even have experience with fighting against super humans. They can both dish out a lot of damage, stay on their feet for a long time, and are able to take a hit.

*Also, I wrote over the course of a few days, so I don't know if I missed or overlooked anything. So if anyone wants to add anything, go ahead.

[cursedcupcakemaster]

This is a birthday gift for one @melodyseashell22

Notes:I don't own Melody Seashell she belongs to @melodyseashell22 or any of twisted wonderlands characters they belong to Disney and Yana Tobosos wonderful mind, I own the characters of Nikki Iriscope,Bonnie Hattleaxe and Celine Perrine since I made those three

Small warning:implications of abuse and starvation

Type:Birthday cake

Floyd Leech x Melody Seashell

A sweet surprise

It wasn't too often Melody was able to celebrate her birthday. That was to be expected when her parents were pieces of garbage and she was essentially isolated her whole life.

She hadn't even had friends aside from her siblings until she awoke from that coffin which brought her to NRC.

She managed to make friends who made her feel like she didn't have to hide or run. Melody had also found a partner in the boy called Floyd Leech. He always knew how to make her laugh or smile despite his usual temperament. Floyd wanted to make sure Melody could enjoy her birthday for once but in order to pull off his plan he needed the help of some of the friends his angelfish had made.

Floyd found the two while they finished up service for the day in the monstro lounge. He didn't often go to Celine or Nikki but in this case it was an emergency.

"Floyd? What's up ?" Nikki inquired as Floyd kept a serious face

"And why do you look so serious?" Celine asked not used to seeing the moody eel in such a mood.

"I need a huge favor from you two, it's angelfishs' birthday tomorrow, can you two distract her until the party is ready?"

Hearing this made the two smile

"Sure thing Floyd Mel Mel deserves some fun" Nikki said

"Shouldn't be too hard" Celine agreed

Floyd grinned "thanks~ see you~" he then walked off now setting to prepare his loves party.

The next morning Melody was greeted by a knock at her door and once it was opened she saw it was Celine and Nikki who smiled.

"Hey Melody~ " Celine greeted

"Hey " Melody greeted back

"Wanna hang out with us? " Nikki asked

Melody nodded and the two led her away

Elsewhere Floyd had to deal with a rather irritating situation

"Come on Azul, she's never had a birthday party" Floyd glared at the Octomer

"So I'm supposed to shut down the lounge for this party?" Azul asked while looking over paperwork

Entering the room Jade walked in with tea

"To be fair it would encourage the party goers to attend the lounge more and boost employee morale would it not Azul?" He asked

The bespectacled man seemed to think it over a minute before smirking

"Fine you can have your little party Floyd, but what are you going to do to keep her away until it's all ready exactly?" Azul asked

"I got that covered already" Floyd laughed

Celine and Nikki took Melody to Nikkis room where she got out some nail polish including Melodys favorite color a good hour later she had Seashells complimenting each other finger on Melodys hands making a smile come to her lips

Elsewhere Trey was a little dumbfounded that Floyd had come to him

"You want me to do this?" The 3rd year asked

"Yeah I mean Melody likes your cakes so I wanted her to have some for her birthday"

Trey remembered when Melody first came to NRC she was extremely thin and looked at his desserts as if they were forbidden treasure so Bonnie would invite Melody to unbirthday parties in hopes of encouraging her to eat just a little more. It had taken a while but relief came when she had more than one helping of Treys food and her weight seemed to adjust properly.

"Alright I'll help" Trey said getting out the ingredients needed to make the masterpiece for the party

Celine smiled as she took out a box wrapped in dark blue wrapping paper with bats on it

"Happy birthday Melody " she said giving it to Melody

Melody raised a brow before unwrapping the gift and lifting the lid saw a light purple dress with subtle hints of glitter

"You might want to put that on for tonight" Nikki chimed in before Melody nodded with a smile

"Thank you both"

After a few hours had passed Melody was led to the monstro lounge but the lights were off

"Why are the lights off?" She asked as the two led her inside the building

"You'll see" Celine answered before they were in the main foyer and the lights turned on

"Surprise! Happy birthday Melody!" Everyone yelled, it was all the friends they had made through the past year

"What what's all this?" Melody asked before Ace piped up

"The twins said you've never had an actual birthday party before so we kinda had to fix that "

Melody felt genuinely happy in this moment, her birthdays had never been a cause for celebration in her family and yet her friends had thought it was.

A hand laced with Melodys own as she finally snapped from her trance

Floyd smiled at Melody

"Happy birthday angelfish ~"

"Thank you Floyd" Melody blushed smiling

After some cake and presents Floyd lead Melody back into the dorms

"Thank you for everything Floyd" Melody said

"I do have one more present for you Angelfish " Floyd grinned

"What?" Melody asked before she felt his lips against hers reciprocating the kiss once the temporary shock wore off

Safe to say this was the best birthday she had so far and the look in Floyd's eyes filled with love was enough to know this was only the start

[kinky-moth]

“Characteristics wise i think you may have noticed I like guys who like to think they're tough and dominant so I can show them what their place really is”

God has to send in an ask just to say you are soooo right and sexy for this.. finding ur blog w pegging businessmen and pretty boys? <3 cheers

I was wondering :0 if we could get some literal pegging businessmen <3 straps are sooo under rated.. being able to switch them out stamina etc…. <3 trans supremacy lmao. For other details prob just the stuff you mentioned liking! Bigger guy/sub etc.. as a trans guy great ego boost for me that type of shit lol

Thank you anon we both obviously have superior tastes, all guys have a good boy in them imo

Seriously tho I'm glad you like my stuff, I'm a trans folk as well so I'm glad to be able to have a ommunity of people with my same tastes, stay cool <3

cw: obedience, pegging

Getting a job in that company wasn't easy, he'd worked a lot and made the right connection to get in a favourable position with a decent salary right off the bat

His arrogance had a charm to it that only people in business could make work, belittling the meeker competition and still gaining the kindness of the clients and useful coworkers

Oh he's had women all over him as well but he's got a beautiful girlfriend at home, or at least that's what he says to uphold his image

In reality things are a bit.. different

It's funny to think of it, someone who did so much for his image and job just meeting someone in a bar, it almost made him embarrassed, just like how he was when he realized he enjoyed his company a bit more than he thought

In fact, he had a lot of unlearning to do ever since things became this different, starting from the fact he may not be as straight as he thought

His "girlfriend" he liked to mention when he wanted to appeal to a client couple's hearts was never really a girl to begin with, he was just some guy he met at a bar

Something about such a mundane setting slowly eased him into dropping the stiff charade he put on, that guy eased him into this; it was a talent really, cause after that he was eased in a lot more things.

[...]

"Hello babe" that voice made him lift his eyes from the computer screen, it was him "did I keep you waiting?"

He quickly hushed him "don't call me that, people can still hear you!" Not like it would've been anything compared to the sounds that were about to come out of that room anyway

"Of course darling, your reputation is so important" he was dressed professionally, probably to not stick out "but you called me here, didn't you?"

"I- I never did that"

"Of course, you just joked about it over and over hoping I'd get the hint" his hand shifted over to the buisness man's crotch, already hard "you're lucky I know you. We don't have much time

You know what to do."

Soon he was bent over the desk, swallowing down his pride as the other man's fingers stretched him, purposeful movements made his cock twitch with the anticipation of what's coming next

As the man laid there panting he felt the smaller one's zip come undone, his strap already in place: he remembers he told him about these.. uh.. STP was it? Something 3 in 1 anyway, he found out the first time he bred him outside the privacy of his bed.

"Look at you, you're taking it so easy now" his hand brushed his balls, taking in the sight of the bigger man spread out on a desk for him "you're so handsome like this"

He knew he needed the praise, he needed something to keep him feeling good about himself until the pleasure built up, he wasn't a trained whore just yet, but he liked the chase anyway

"You ready babe?" but he merely asked to see the once proud man shily and ever so imperceptibly nod before he pushed his strap in him.

The feeling was as weird as the first time he tried it, he secretely hoped it would never stop feeling that way: being filled all over and over, his prostate being relentlessly stimulated by the thrusts

He thought he could only feel good with his dick, he wasn't ready for the deep, visceral pleasure he would receive by being touched so deep

Truly, he loved the man's cock, he had a whole collection at home almost as if he never wanted him to get used to it: every time he succumbed to the pleasure he would switch it up, textures and bumps changing to rub spots he didn't know he had and fucking his self respect out thrust by thrust

His mind went blank thinking about it, all the different cocks he's been fucked with, all by the same man, the one that was taking him again in his own office, the only one who managed to take him to suck a high

He had worked so much for this job, truly

And now he's staring at his door, secretly hoping he's have brought a gag as well

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

Kind of self-indulgent question, but let's say that nonbinary people being able to be comfortable with who they are and having a word to identify themselves is a thing in '60s Batman. How would that Riddler respond to his future s/o telling him that on their first date (since that's probably the kind of thing you want to clear the air with)?

Sorry for all the Gorshin Riddler questions but I just love how you write him. I think he's becoming my favorite.

"Zeros and Ones and Everything Inbetween" 60's Riddler x nonbinary!Reader

Don't be sorry haha. I love it! Not a lot of people write for him so it's definitely one of those "roll up your sleeves and do it yourself" kind of things for content (for me). Life is way too short not to be a little self indulgent.

Plus the ego boost I get from people loving him through my writing is thrilling to say the least ;)

We are going to say in the 60s batman world, the language exists and there's no outright discrimination but it's still a newer concept. 60s batman himself would treat it with a very after-school special kind of gloves. As with most things he doesn't quite get.

Now, Edward Nygma considers himself quite the charmer. Unfortunately for everyone else, he's not wrong- even if he is a huge dork. The first time he saw you, he was awestruck and saddling to your side, asking you a riddle.

"Riddle me this- Why did carbon marry hydrogen?" He looks confident, almost smug while waiting for a guess. When you shrug and tell him you're not sure, he grins, "Because they bonded from the moment they met! Why don't we give it a try?"

If it wasn't the riddle, it was his laugh that brought a smile to your face. As he posed a date, you figured it could be a lot of fun. Why not? You're a cool, independent nonbinary person in Goth- oh right.

The whole thing went by so fast you forgot to mention that, even casually. No matter, you would just... tell him. Right. While you were sure it was fine, it did cross your mind that a criminal may or may not be judgemental about such a thing.

That thought kept occupying your mind as you entered the diner you were supposed to meet him at several days later. It took you a moment to spot him in the place. The Riddler was keeping you on your toes already. He wore a light green gingham button up with darker pants that complimented. Dark purple, almost black question marks were embroidered on each end of the collar of his shirt. You'd half expected him to come in full criminal ensemble, though now you felt a little silly thinking so.

He's all smiles when he spots you, "Pretty thing, there you are! I was wondering if I'd have to hold up another bank to get your attention." A small laugh before he's handing you the menu. He's looking over the options himself when you mention you have something you need to tell him.

He merely hums in response, telling you he's listening. Your voice comes out nervous, "I'm nonbinary."

That's when the Riddler puts down the menu and lifts his brow with a grin, "Is that all? Don't sound so nervous, sweetheart, or I'll worry I frighten you. Do I... frighten you?" There's a teasing look in his eyes as he glances at you up and down.

"No, I- You really don't care?" It wasn't something to be ashamed of, but his lack of reaction caught you off guard.

"There are only two binaries I care about- Can you guess what they are? Tell me, there are two lovers of the alphabet. Destined to be with one another but twelve letters apart. What are they?"

You think on it for a moment, counting on fingers before snorting, "U and I?"

"Precisely! You and I need to explore this connection of ours." He smoothly transitions, "I may be the royal prince of puzzlers, but even I have common decency!"

And that's that. Anyone tries to say anything harmful to you about it and he'll dangle them above a vat of sharks. He can do that you, know. Unless it's batman, they won't have any shark repellent, either!

[thegoldenshi-shi]

So, I have been busy making poor monetary choices again, in which I now own two different types of tablets specifically for art (ONE WAS VERY MUCH ON SALE, THE OTHER HAD A 50 BUCK COUPON, BOTH GOOD REVIEWS), and the first tablet I bought, that's honestly just a way of adding a touchscreen to a computer to me, cause like. It's a sensor pad? Well, it's proving that I can't mentally make myself apply a lot of pressure to technology, which my younger self with a ruined dsi touch screen would gape at. I have also gotten all my shelving units up! Not sure if they're staying where they are, or if I'm gonna move them around again, but I do know two that are staying where they are, mainly cause I am /not/ lifting that shelf all the way back up to chest level to take it back down again. Nuh uh, no ma'am, it will not be done. It's also gotten all my collectibles on it already, which has proven that I need to devote more of my budget to the Twins than Screamer. My frenemesis would be delighted to see my failure to my simpees.

Work has been better! Still hot, but we've slowed /way/ down, which means my supervisor has been letting me goof off on my phone or writing, cause we physically can't work too hard in the heat, but we also have no orders anyway, so... And because we've been able to get paid Not Working, I have gotten back into a werewolf story I started writing months ago! I'm setting it up one shot style rn, and posting the chapters as my brain accepts my pleading for their creation, but I also intend to make it a full and proper story once I've worked all the one shots out. I will openly admit to it being complete self service, cause I want a best friend who's 8 feet tall, fluffy, and has a crappy sense of humor. And is a cuddle monster, though that one is mainly cause I love glomming full force onto my people and displaying my awkward affection. I'm like a peacock, but instead of flaring tail feathers, I hug people in front of other people, whilst not actually really knowing socially accepted norms for hugging friends, tbh.

I also went through and completely reorganized my phones gallery, and got a very stupid laugh outta it. I have 461 transformers related pictures, and almost 400 writing prompts. Just. Saved on my phone. If I ever lose this sim card my writing career that i don't actually have will be over. On another other note semi related, I have been asked to design a friends tattoo! I don't know if I mentioned that in my last ask. He asked me to draw him a dragon to get tattooed, which, to be fair, dragons are among one of the very scant things I can draw well reliably, but also, dragon proportions curled into a ball sleeping are kicking my ass, and I am debating getting out my giant sketchpad to be able to completely control every tiny eetsy beetsy detail, cause my close friend wants me to do this thing that will permanently be on his body, and I really desperately don't wanna mess it up... Cause like. No one has ever asked me to ///draw/// for them before. I've gotten asked to paint, or do some small stuff with watercolors, but never /drawing/. And he knows I love dragons, it's part of why he asked. I just. It's a thing that happened that made me really happy, like hide in my pillow crying happy tears happy.

And then, on the fifth, I found an exactly 8 year old video of my childhood dog that we had to put down... it was from the summer before he was put down, which happened during the school year. He had been all that I'd had growing up, so, it hit kinda hard seeing something of him that moved. Even after 8 years, I still cry every time I think about him. He was the best dog any little kid could've ever been raised with, and probably helped boost my immune system against my allergies to boot, hehe. I cried for like, two hours, cause it was a video taken 7/5/2015. And, I thought I had lost all my images of him. It was a happy thing, just. A very sad type of happy. I wish I could tell him that I did love him, even if I didn't wanna lay on the ground and cuddle like he preferred. He was a dog that was born old, haha, never wanted to play or bark, he just wanted to lay on you and be loved. I was always running around on imaginary adventures though, but I did love him. If I was upset, he was my safe place. I promise this is a happy thing, it's just that I'm gonna be legally allowed to drink soon, and sometimes I forget that it's been so long since I got to see him. Especially cause sometimes, I still have dreams about playing with him in our backyard, right next to a giant pine tree covered in cicada sheds, laughing as he dug a little groove to lay in under the old rusted out trampoline. He was the most patient, tolerant dog, and it's because of him and the cat he raised with me that I'm not afraid of so much anymore. Ma and dad weren't there when we had him, but... I'll admit to giving them up forever if it meant I got to have him back

~Smooch

Hello there Smooch~

Sleeping babee dragon sounds so cute! I've never designed a tattoo, so I can only imagine the pressure (and of course the touching part of him asking you to draw his tattoo design).

Interestingly enough I too spent a loooong period of time where drawing was a dragon-only zone. I think it was back in like middle school? If you're struggling with a traditional four-legged two winged dragon, have you considered another type? There's Asian Lung dragons, Wyverns, Wyrms, or even a Quetzalcoatl style dragon that can all be very cool and might be easier for you to draw as a sleepy loaf. If your friend doesn't have a strong preference of course.

How exciting, on sale art supplies. It's kinda hard to decide sometimes between art supplies and if you're new to it, it's not a BAD idea to try multiple different types and/or brand names until you find what you like. I own two different art devices, one Wacom Intuos bought in High School and a Huion art monitor bought like four years ago. I was a traditional artist at the time I bought the Intuos tablet, so I quickly found that I prefer drawing on an actual screen I can look at instead of drawing on a tablet, BUT I had to try the tablet first to know that. What that all amounts up to is I hope you like one if not both of them ^J^ It's good to hear that your job is calming down. I'm sure that you're enjoying having the down time to work on your creative pursuits. At the risk of sounding too much like a hippie art teacher, I say it's very important to have some sort of creative outlet in your life. So it's wonderful to hear that you're getting to write on your werewolf story. I send you my best wishes that your muse stays nice and cooperative for the whole process hehe.

And lastly: The bittersweet memory of a good pet that has passed is something that I feel blessed to have as well. I hope that you can continue to enjoy your memories of a good animal without being bogged down in the sadness of their passing.

It's good to hear from you again Smooch, glad to hear you are doing well~

[callsigncrash]

Oh-oh-oh here I am

On my knees again-

To ask for more fics bcz ur amazing:b

And this time I'm curious on how Yamori and any other person from Tokyo Ghoul you want to write romantic hc's with a male reader that's pretty small and a bit weak, high key low key intimidated by how strong they are but loves it at the same time and gets flustered when they show their strength-

Anygays, thanks for all ur kindness in writing my dream fanfics ^^

Naki and Yamori Hcs (Separate) with a Meek but Loving Male S/O

________________________________________________

Yamori

________________________________________________

Yamori is already a big and intimidating guy even to people who are up there in stature so he can only imagine how it must be for you. And when I say he can only imagine, I mean he loves to imagine it. He won’t lord it over you but he’ll definitely try to subtly enjoy every time you need him to grab or do things and the way you sink away slightly before smiling again when he imposes his height on you.

He also just enjoys how y’all look in public. It maintains his intimidating aura and demeanor but it also shows his tact and care with someone so delicate being involved with him.

He’s the type to pick you up or lift you when he hugs you in private.

May or may not try to dance with you a bit solely because of your reactions and the fact that he towers over you. He’s got that smug smile on the entire time.

He likes how small your hands are. He really enjoys when he takes your hand and you blush and look away since it gives him an excuse to point your face back to him with said large hand.

Sometimes when he’s doing laundry he takes the time to look at how small your clothes are compared to him.

He gets a chuckle out of you wearing his jacket.

Cuddles will be amazing if you’re considerably smaller than him. When spooning he’ll have his arms all the way around you and might flip you over to on top of him when he’s shifting in his sleep.

Naki

________________________________________________

He won’t ever admit but he’s happy that you’re smaller like him. He always feels insecure because he knows he’s not as built or even just as tall as a lot of people so he feels better knowing that he’s taller for once.

He feels a little giddy when he’s able to make you flustered.

He’s always wanted to hug someone who he has to bend down for and not the other way around so you’ll be getting a lot of affection from him.

Even if there’s a step stool somewhere, please let him grab whatever it is for you. It boosts his ego plus he’ll give you another big hug when he’s handing whatever it is to you.

Much like Yamori, he loves the hand size difference. He likes to do that Tarzan thing where you put your hands together so that he can look at your smaller ones in comparison to his.

He’s the type to compare your shoe sizes when he’s alone. It reminds him how small you actually are in comparison. Again, major ego boost.

He’s already clingy but he’ll be way more clingy when in public just to prove a point to people.

[cyanocoraxx]

mercury - the planet of communication, intellect, memory, and learning. just a thing about metal not using their voice and mecha wanting to understand it & ao3 link

-

in an effort to understand her brother's lack of speech, mecha decided to allot herself a maximum number of vocalizations that day. two words before her quota of one hundred, she disabled her vocalizer - fortunately, not mid-sentence. she had already counted ahead with the expertise of a supercomputer to avoid this, for stopping a sentence would be highly inefficient of her.

when her comm link alerted her to an incoming call, she would answer it without a greeting. when another unit addressed her, she would point them in the right direction. she adjusted well to the new way.

and neo tilted its head to one side quizzically. asking silently, why are you doing this? mecha, in turn, pointed a finger at where their sibling's vocalizer laid, let it rest there for a long moment. neo's pressure sensors detected it immediately, causing them to tilt their head down to look - and suddenly it clicked. the words their sibling had spoken long ago.

i would like to understand.

neo went to sign its reply, but stopped - it knew just how much mecha desired to learn. to understand. though she could not always empathize with others as much as she liked, being able to understand her siblings was of the utmost importance to her, even if it was in her own, nonconforming way. so neo put its hand back down. perhaps the best way to explain how their lack of speech felt was to simply show his sibling.

neo gestured with a nod of his head. the brothers walked to the stairs in silence, towards the window of the second floor. neo climbed out, boosted itself up onto the roof, and then leaned down to offer its hand to its brother. mecha took it, allowing neo to use its endless strength to lift it up. sheer power used for making bonds rather than breaking them down. repurposed entirely.

they sat on the roof of their warehouse building, the one they called home, and let the stars bathe them in long-dead light. they sat quietly, merely listening. by not speaking, they could pinpoint every tiny, seemingly unimportant noise. the killing machines had no use for interpreting the sounds of a distant train, nor the stream that coursed through the earth with no language, beneath the quiet heaven above them. and yet, their priorities changed in that moment.

everything that once registered as useless to the killing machines had indeed gained meaning. importance. not just now, but long before. they taught each other to value life, to value each other’s gestures and unspoken words.

but, yes, the silence could be alienating. neo pointed to a flicky with dimmed optics, gesturing to it chirping away in a tree down below, and the two watched how the little bird invited its family to join it to perch. mecha consulted his databanks for information on bird communication. flickies in particular used singing, calls, squeaks, warbles, and clicks to communicate. the loud, carrying voices of the birds in the oak tree filled the cool night air. but as mecha observed, he pointed to an orange flicky that fluffed up its wings, its yellow patches of feathers growing out like fiery flowers - and it took off, bold wings moving in exaggerated slow motion, the red and yellow patches bursting from its feathers. this was a purely visual display. neo nodded in reply. indeed, not every flicky needed to speak to communicate effectively. that flicky was still a valued member of its flock.

mecha almost wanted to launch into a tangent about the differences between visual and vocal displays in the birds, but restrained himself. sound was a fantastic form of communcation for that species, for it could carry beyond where the birds could see. for a bird living in a thicket, it would help to use its voice to stay in touch with the members of its flock. mecha mused internally about how murderous machines like it and neo did not necessarily require use of their voices to survive, unlike the birds. there were no predators to sing about. they were the predators, in an animal-machine way. they watched, curious, as the flock took off into the night, shadowed against the moonlight as they left to find a more suitable nesting site.

looking up at the sky, mecha considered the spellbound moon for an hour. its silence, its borrowed sunlight, and the paradox of their closeness with their sibling, whom should have been long dismantled. this painful but amazing intimacy between two brothers. they had fought to shine on their own borrowed light, and when one of theirs went out, the other would hold a candle to guide them. neo pointed out the clouds as they blew across the moon, obscuring its bright light for a moment. mecha nodded. when one of their voices failed, the other could speak out for them in ways other than speech.

mecha started to understand it, then. neo had long since ceased looking for their voice. they did not want it for speaking with. rather, they made a ring of it, that their silence wore on its little finger. sometimes it would be used as a magnifying glass or a telescope. all the tiny, insignificant things of the world magnified.

the long silences needed to be loved, perhaps more than the words that could describe them. no, their silence wasn't about distance - it was closeness. a willingness to look deeper. a need to explore a world once placed behind shatterproof glass. they were never constructed to appreciate the world around them, and yet, they broke that expectation down with the same raw power that should have been destined to destroy.

mecha let their gaze fall onto neo's frame, searching for any quiet communication from them. she saw it when neo looked at her with bright, warm optics - a quiet love, a sincere adoration for a sibling. a wordless, “look at us. we are happy. do you see it?” mecha reciprocated by pressing his forehead to his brother’s. yes, they were happy.

neo had accepted their disability long ago. of course, it was isolating. of course, it was a struggle. nothing would erase that aspect of it. but neo had come to make the most of it. remote as the stars over their heads, yet as close as the two inches of space between them. the two words mecha had left needed not be used.

[idontrealeeknowyou]

Uncharted Melodies - Chapter 1

"Yuna, stop making the customers uncomfortable with your silly moves.", my mum screamed from the pantry.

"Mary isn't bothering me, she's actually good at it, and these days it's all about tiktok and whatnot", Natasha, a long time customer, said in my defense.

"Right?, I keep trying to tell her I'm actually serious about it" The 'it' being music. I replied while handing Natasha her order.

"Yuna, come over here!!!"

"Comin', ma'am!" I said while walking to meet her in the back thinking about what I'd done wrong this time. Did I put the blender in the wrong place?

"No, you didn't do anything wrong. I just need a little help carrying these boxes", she said, her petite figure already swallowed up by a pile of boxes.

Oh thank God, the last time I left the blender out it didn't end well.

"Ok, ma", I replied helping her lift the boxes.

"What are you looking for anyway?"

"I need to replace that cup you broke, remember?"

"Oh", I replied a bit embarrassed

"Go handle that customer," she said after hearing the sound of the bell ringing multiple times.

"But there are staff"

"Nope, they're already on break"

"Then why aren't I?"

"Cause you're my daughter, now go answer that customer.", she said while rolling her eyes obviously annoyed.

"Comin'", I said while heading towards the counter.

"Yes, welcome to Rise and Shine café..Start your day right.", I said while facing downwards getting the computer ready for transactions.

"If I come at night, will that motto remain the same?" the masked fellow asked me with an accent that signaled he wasn't from here.

Although masked, the parts of his face I was able to see were beautiful and actually quite familiar.

"Well, no..it'd be....more espresso less depresso"

"Oh," he replied. I could tell he was smiling because he had an eye smile.

"What do you wanna order?"

"Just a regular black coffee, I'm planning on staying up all night, so I'm gonna need a boost"

That's a bit boring for an interesting man.

"Ok, that'd be...12$", I said while handing him his coffee. +

"Ok", he said as he reached into his pocket and brought out a 20$ bill.

"Keep the change"

"Thank you"

"No problem", he said as he headed to the window side table.

Since there were no more orders I decided to change the music to roller coaster by Nmixx and started dancing and singing along but that was until I felt a pair of eyes on me. It was him. I suddenly became self conscious and stopped dancing. I stared back and noticed a few tattoos peeking from under his long sleeves. It was the same one Jungkook had. Maybe he was a mega fan?!, but then I looked up and saw multiple piercings.

Ain't no way that is THE JEON JUNGKOOK, what the fuck is he doing here?!.

[silverfirewolfsurtleaus]

Some stuff about vampires in fangs and future

-----

To start off all vampires have this list of things and tibits about leo with them

Increased: strength, speed, durability, senses

For leo who already had a degree of this because of how he was made didnt noticed the durability or the senses at first, untill it was pointed out, he's faster than the current record holder for vampires due to his owb slider speed/inhanced speed getting a boost...and it was pretty noticible when he was able to lift the couch up while his very large and heavy older brother was on it...he carried raph around for a bit while his older brother cried happy tears because some times the oldest chikd just wants to be carried (I speak from exoerance ngl)

Claws and fangs

The most noticible things from a vampires repitor impossible to notice unless theur small enough. Usually used for getting blood, the fangs, or for fighting, the claws, notibky the vampires fangs secrete a substance that acts as an anastetic [im hopeing Im using the right word here] that WILL affect the bitten part so long ad they have blood in theit system. It has a raito of hours/how much is put in the blood stream. Leo usually uses the least amount ge can get away with because he doesnt know much other properties of it.

Healing saliva

Its not much just enough healing power to heal the injuries the cause via their fangs with no chance of infection. Leo is pretty quick to use this no lie even if he thinks its a little grose he has to lick people.

Regeneration

This ONLY applies to injuries and scars gotten after becomeing a vampire. The wounds can heal up in a matter of minutes usually. There is ways to cancle this out and give vampires scars and perment injuries however. Leo has exoeranced that first happen.

Vampires ability to transform.

Va.pires can shape shift into one of four things.

The most common is bats, what vampires are known for reall y.They can also become snakes, mist, or very rarely wolves. Leo is one of the kinds of vampires who can become mist, though its rare for him to be in this form unless its already misty/foggy out. He had to learn how to transform the hard way. In other news mist vampires are hard to hurt in that form.

Vampires weakenesses...and hints to what put leo in that 50 year coma without going into exact details.

Holy symbols

Hoky symbols do not usually hurt vampires. Thing is with holy symbols is that they need belife in the religon or god its connected to to work from at least one party, either the human or vampire, to weaken the vampire, in which the vampire is reduced to their pre turned levels of increased things. If neither party belives in the thing connected to the holy symbol then the holy symbol will fail spetacurally. If both parties belive then it can actually hurt the vampire. Agnostic and athiest vampires are a hunters bane and learning that it wasnt just the christain cross was a hunters worst nightmare. Leo has been under the affects of a holy symbol.

Wood

Now this actually has a few factors. The wood needs to be from a tree considered holy by the people that the vampire originates from to actually hurt, unless its a wooden stake but those hurt humans too so, in leo case due to his human genetic being japanese then only woods like that from a sakaki tree would work. Leo has been pined to the ground using this.

Silver

Considered a holy metal in places silver is an effective tool for hunters as its like poison to vampires, also prevents them from seeing their reflection in mirrors. It can have accidic or burning properties if simply placed on a vampires skin causing it to turn red and extreamly irritated for a short period of time blistering and starting to open it up if longer. If it actually make it into the vampires blood stream depending on the amount it can range from them being sick to potental death. Leo is lucky that 1) the injuries he got from this are below the shoukder line and 2) that he servived the hunters silver laced weapon

Holy water

Water blessed by a very religious person or deity. Vampires are considered unholy, not undead like in most cases, but very much unholy. Holy water will work like an acid that eats away at where ever it touches until its gone or its too diluted to work anymore. However most vampires are safe because holy water is actually hard for hunters to get since moat people belive vampires are myths. Leo has a scar on one of his legs from hoky water however.

Other things to note

Yes vampires must be invited in to private homes. Public places are free game however.

Garlic is not a weakness of vampires thats a myth among myth because a couple of vampires had deathly garlic allergies

Allergies are not curred if one becomes a vampire obviously

Magic can hurt vampires but its not as effective as using one of their weakness.

Theres covens of vampires and each coven takes up one place, example maeve's coven coverse all of new york much to her frazzlment

Vampires not oart of the covens, uncommon, are known as free roamers like leo

Leo is a free roamer because he had no clue about covens and by the time he learned he was fine on his own.

Smaller groups within covens are clans and act as large familes of vampires

Free roamers have their own version of clans known as tribes

Trives unlike covens can be made up of more than vampires, or the odd werecreature, however

The leaders of covens are not normally genetically related usually when the current coven head retires or is dying they chose a new head.

Know one knows how they choose but everyone knows who the current head is after theyve been chosen.

Freeroamers like leo just get confused until its clarified for them.

Leo is the only hamato who been turned into a vampire ever

This is because most vampires have respect for this clan of mostly humans who have dealt with demons an alien in vasions...most

Maeve is looking for leo's sire as he was part of her coven and BROKE THE VAMPIRE LAW

[honeydazai]

Arcane characters + scratch marks

feat.: Viktor, Jayce Talis, Silco, Vander, Ekko, Jinx, Vi, Ambessa Medarda

warnings: nsfw content, riding, teasing, sex against a wall, fingering, etc.

When VIKTOR first spots the scratch marks on his back, dragging down his spine in long scrapes, in the mirror, he's actually quite flustered. There's a slight blush on his cheeks, though he's definitely not opposed to this. In fact, there's a possessive aspect to you scratching him that has him breathing a little heavier; he definitely wants you to mark him up more.

Later that day, you're on your back with Viktor above you, his dick pushing so far into you that you swear the head of it is repeatedly nudging against your cervix. The sensation has you keening, your voice high-pitched and needy, and your thighs are trembling. Viktor's mouth is on your neck, sucking hickeys into your skin while your nails dig into his back just like the day before.

He definitely teases you about your marks afterwards — whether it's the ones you left on him or the other way around — and, well, if Jayce sees the hickeys he made just a bit too high for your collar to cover them, Viktor wouldn't mind it.

“Oh, don't try to cover those hickeys now, love. You might actually hurt my feelings. I'm only kidding, of course, but marking each other is kind of romantic, no?”

The second JAYCE notices the long streaks on his back through a quick glance into the mirror, he huffs out a laugh. Honestly, he's amused at the sight — oh, and knowing that he made you felt this good is an ego boost for sure.

He remembers the last night fondly, with him pinning you to a wall, your legs wrapped around his waist to keep yourself from falling — not that he'd ever let that happen —, whiny moans falling from your lips as you dig your nails into his back. Your cunt, so hot and tight, clenches around him and, fuck, he's forced to gather all his self-control to avoid cumming then and there.

“Ah, fuck, babe, am I making you feel good? You like that, yeah? Come on, tell me, princess, please—, wanna hear it, fuck, please.”

SILCO is able to feel the marks on his back the moment he puts on his shirt, which he promptly pulls off again to look at himself in the mirror. He raises his eyebrows at the sight that greets him, and if you had been awake already, he might have teased you about being this aggressive in bed.

Yesterday, you were on your back beneath him — your spine arched into an elegant curve and your eyes squeezed closed as he thrust into you. His hands were on your hips, holding you close, and when one moved down to rub over your clit, your nails roughly raked over his shoulders and back, making him groan.

“Oh, look at what you did to me, dear. To think that you're this wild in bed — funny, really. Now get over here, dear, will you? I intend to return the favour of marking you.”

You're the first one to comment on the scratch marks you had apparently left earlier that day when VANDER moves to dress himself, and you promptly scramble to apologise. He, however, only laughs, his voice filled with warmth and his eyes crinkling a little.

Honestly, he hadn't even realised you scratched him; all he remembers is you sitting on his lap, sinking down onto his dick and moaning in a high-pitched voice, your head dropping forward against his shoulder. A moment later, he's thrusting into you from below, his arms around your waist as he lifts you up and lets you drop back down rhythmically.

“Damn, doll, I didn't even realise ya scratched me this much. No need to apologise, darl, really — I can hardly feel 'em. Besides, who says I'd mind it if I did?”

JINX is quick to notice the lines raking down her arms and her back and, honestly, she's just amused. She chuckles and pointedly shows the scratches off to you, a teasing comment rolling off her tongue, and she thinks of the situation as especially funny when you blush.

That evening, she pointedly scratches at your body, her nails digging into the soft skin of your thighs and your plush ass while she eats you out, her tongue flat against your dripping folds. Your hands are in Jinx's hair, grabbing and tugging at it as you whimper and try to grind down on her tongue.

“What, too much pain, sugar? Don't be like that, it's just a little blood! Besides, you marked me up pretty nicely yesterday too, so it's only fair I return the favour, right?”

EKKO is honestly kind of taken aback when he feels long scratches all over his shoulders and back, though he doesn't really mind the feeling. In fact, he actually finds that he likes the way those marks of yours make him feel, as well as knowing that he had, apparently, fucked you that good that day before. He even teases you about it later, a smirk on his face.

That night before, you were laying on your back with him above you, his weight pinning you to the ground as he thrust into you hard enough to make you sing with pleasure; high needy noises leaving your mouth. Your hands were roaming over his body, over his shoulders and his back and arms, and he hadn't paid it much attention when you dug your nails into his muscles, but in hindsight, he definitely will take notice of it the next time — with a pleasured moan, that is.

“You feel so good, baby, fuck. You're so damn hot; so tight around my dick. Feels like you're just made to take cock. Come on, show me how good I'm making you feel.”

It's actually not VI who first notices the marks on her shoulders and back, but someone else, and she can't help but blush at their concerns. She quickly reassurances that person that she's fine, and by the time she gets home, she's smirking, amused. She jokingly confronts you about 'hurting her' and makes it her goal to mark you up herself later.

Later that day, she has you gasping as she sucks another hickey into the soft skin of your throat, and your pleasured moans make her chuckle. At the same time, two of her thick fingers thrust into you, spreading you open, and you're damn near drooling.

“You feelin' good, doll? Seems like it for sure. Ah, I can't let ya cum yet — I need to pay you back for all those scratches you gave me first, see? If everyone's gonna know I'm yours, they gotta see you're mine, too.”

For AMBESSA, the scratch marks on her back the next morning don't come as a surprise. In fact, she expected them — if there weren't any marks on her, she'd be disappointed. When she's fucking you, she wants to know just how good you feel, and that includes scratch works on her back, as well as moaning and mewling and your legs giving out beneath your body.

It was quite obvious you enjoyed yourself yesterday; you had been sitting on her lap, bouncing up and down with vigour on her calloused fingers, your cunt clenching around the digits as she curls them to nudge against that one spot inside of you that has you gasping. Your nails dig into the muscles of her back, your whole appearance nothing short of needy and desperate while she manages to look entirely unaffected, only a slight smirk curling her lips upwards.

“Look at what you did to me, baby. Did I make you feel that good yesterday, hm? I believe you should thank me then. Your pleasure isn't necessary to please me.”

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notes: first Ambessa post!! she definitely topped Local Cuisine she's so hot uhh also now im thinking about a Jayce/Viktor/Local Cuisine threesome hmm might write that after Valentine's Day is over...

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