#i do not want blindly go anywhere like a moth to a light

[scifriskyxy]

The reason we dont have a culture anymore is because the lgbtq,feminist, black lives matter movement, the me too movement the destruction of the family unit, the destruction of friendships,gate keepers

The fact that people get angry at the american flag,the people that get angry at it, destroyed the american culture. Those are the people ,the people who protest on japans culture, those are the people that have destroyed our society, they are a mix of americans and immigrants, the people we call tourist where the ones that destroyed us, the rich snobs ,those who act rich,the children that are spoiled rotten desytoyed us ,the parents that said "i wont do what my dad did" the people that want to stop the generational trauma altogether,in some ways thats great but however trauma teaches us, it humbles us it warns us on whats dangerous

The MOCKING of christianity is the disrespect,the lack of chivalrous men,the stock piling of wealth ,the lack of proper justice, the men and women that trap their spouse into paying for a child that for men likely isnt theirs and so much more

A culmination of all these things

The only actual culture left are the hillbillies, the florida man , the motorcycle gangs,rednecks

These people, as far as i can tell, are one of the few people left with the american spirit , with a culture that survives being named and will survive persecution. Why? Because a lot of these people are veteran alot of these people fought for our countries they know what america means

How did this start? You wonder,well

For me as far as i can tell it started when americans began to call themselves african american it started with slurs it moved to women more and more leaving the home life ,it began with trends that didnt unify us it began with trends that divided us

I do not know how my home land my borinquen is today...i had to leave it due to reasons outside of my control, but when i was there ,there was unity, there was love there was respect ,it wasnt always the best

I could join in the fun myself due to being isolated in an apartment looking down at the happenings i still watch from phisical isolation. Now that i am on the ground, i am in america. All i see is a desolate desert

Dull colors, vast open roads, ghosts whispers of a past that was slowly bit by bit torn to shreds all thats left ,is drugs,sex endless rants, whimps that cry victim, people that blindly trust blindly blame blame blame,conspiracy theories and people divided glaring at eachother,endless secrets and a rabbit hole of depravity that doesnt end...it feels like the pits of hell and its gates are opening

People see it but do nothing because it 'not their problem

Im scared... I do not know what i can do. We've tried everything, and things aren't changing fast enough if things dont change FOR the better ,the monsters ,the predators amongst us the inhuman people amongst us the most deprived twisted beings that are being protected that we arent allowed to harm will harm us we cant protect ourselves,the children are being raised and born to be worse than the last generation

What can we do?

We can't do anything because we suffer from a cycle. Many places have managed to slow the cycle down,we are being fought over by two sides, and we do not know ,i do not know the reason but we are seen as a comodity for whatever reason ,is it our souls? Is it our attention? We never had a choice. We were never given one WE, who never had a voice

What would you choose ,Satan or god

It's a red herring... or so it feels like it to me,

It's either god or suffer,come to me, my child, or be destroyed ,blindly trust me child or suffer,we never had a choice jesus made that choice for us,one man one person made the choice for an unfathomable amount of lives ,hes the king hes all...and what are we?...he says we are kings and queens but are we? I stare at the angels. Did they have a choice? I look at the Bible, and i stare up at the stars , i yearn to be free, we are so close to it...and we are being struck down by something we can't comprehend something all powerful, something we cannot fight against no matter how hard we try,something we cannot escape from even in death

So many people silenced blindly trusting and distrusting

I wish deeply to ask jesus a question

Why does he blindly believe a father that was never there for him, a father that technically assaulted his mother that tained something so sacrilegious as a marriage? I understand why he didn't choose to side with Satan, but why, God, when he had a choice, a choice never said, choose neither... and choose everyone

I know my questions will land me in hell, all I hope i figure out my own way out somehow sometimes you must ask for help I know but sometimes that help comes with a price

All I want... all I crave is freedom ,no hellish jail, no collar and chain,no strings, no judgment

Why... do I crave this so badly that my body has goosebumps

I crave to create. I crave to explore the abyss of the cosmos I crave to learn,I CRAVE THE TRUTH

The more I look up, the more that dream is fading the more I see what God has done... the more I see dead or dying stars devastated planets ...has it always been this way? Or is this God's doing

If there's a father... where is the mother... who is the mother? There must be a mother out there, right?

I may be scared... but I must keep moving. I can not stop. I MUST break through no matter how much pain and how much suffering I must stay determined. I do not want to fight. All I want is freedom. Hurting someone is the last thing I want to do, so I place a shield upon myself. What color will it be? I do not know. I do not care. All colors are beautiful, hope, and love where given to me I will not allow God to take it away a gift is a gift after all and I accept your gift you shouldn't be expecting anything in return perhaps one day I'll be able to give back

.

.

.

Just Believe

[peachesandfiction]

BlackPink’s reaction to missing a date

Jisoo:

At first, she was nonchalant. It was easy for her; all ready to explain that the company held her back for a few more pictures and by that time, traffic was busy. Then the moment she stepped into the restaurant, she didn’t see you anywhere. Slowly scanning a few more times, she made her way over to the front desk. The hostess smiled at her sweetly when she noticed the confused, lost look on Jisoo’s face. She asked, “Are you looking for someone dear?” She described you, her eyes still watching the crowd of heads among the sea of white table cloths and burning candles. The woman’s lips pulled downwards into a frown, “We watched her leave about 10 minutes ago.”

Jisoo nodded, her heart falling as she told the Hostess, “Thank you.”

“No problem dear,” the woman called out to Jisoo as she watched her turned and leave the building.

Jisoo’s heart raced a little as she pulled out her phone, searching for your contact. The ringing was almost deafening, but then her own ears rang as your hollow voice answered, “What.”

“Babe? Where are you,” she asked, pushing the receiver closer to her ear.

“Home,” your voice sounded flat.

“Why are you there?”

“Jisoo, I sat in that restaurant for over an hour.” She flinched, having excepted your voice to raise, but it didn’t. You continued on, “Did you expect me to sit there until they kicked me out?”

“No, but-”

“Jisoo, I’m really tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

The phone went silent as she let if fall from her ear to her hip. With echoing footsteps, she trekked her way reluctantly to you. She knew she should make her way to the dorms, but her stomach full of moths were eating her from the inside out. She needed to see you, to explain her side. She hadn’t known she was trapped in her work for over an hour long, she was too distracted trying to get things done, she hadn’t noticed that that much time had passed.

Floating on a rain cloud, she found herself standing before your door. Her heart beat matched that of thunder and her fingertips full of lightning reached out with your spare key you had given her. Turning the lock, she entered the house. Tear drops began to rain down her face the moment she got to your room. Her hands shaking as they reached to open the door.

Then it swung open.

You stood there, your features shadowed by the light behind you. Your eyes were red and puffy, your lips shaking as you reached for her. She fell into your arms. The showers full of slaty waters began as apologies bounced back and forth in the small room. Slowly, she let you lead her to the bed, and with one last “Sorry,” the warmth of arms led you both to sleep.

Jennie:

Her foot tapped, echoing annoyance within the small car as it steered past the yellow lights of the city’s night. She just wanted to get home, go to sleep in your arms. The car finally turned onto a familiar block, and she quickly recognized you were now only a moment away. Her eyes watched as the darkened house grew nearer. She blinked. Normally you were still up at this time, but she just brushed it off, thinking to herself, ‘must have been a long day.’

When the driver parked, she thanked him then hurried quickly up to the front door. Her hands rummaged through her purse, looking for the spare key you had given her. Her eyes glanced up towards your porch light, its dark shadow casting over her as she signed, “seriously? She still hasn’t gotten that fixed,” then began to blindly search her bag once more. In the dark of the night, she dropped it, the dark bag landing on top of your equally dark door mat. Lightly cursing, “fuck,” she started to bend down when a small light illuminated the ground before her, revealing her disheveled purse. She quickly turned, her eyes wide in shock to see you holding your phone’s flashlight towards her dropped purse. Her voice was louder than she thought, “I thought you were asleep?” Her words rang against the stars and dark windows.

“I wish,” you answered, nudging the stream of light towards the fallen purse. Jennie nodded, muttering about a terrible day as she quickly swiped it up. She watched as you walked past her and unlocked the door. Following you inside, she heard you ask, “Where were you tonight?” Her ears twitched at the sound of your voice, unsure what the tone of hostility meant.

“Work, as usual,” she answered.

“Did you get everything done today?”

“I’m pretty sure,” the confusion rang loud and clear in her voice.

“That’s good. You sure you didn’t remember anything about bowling with our other friends who are also dating each other? Something like a double date?”

Her purse slipped from her fingers, its thud in time with her gasp, “I can’t believe I forgot.”

You shrugged, making your way to your room, “It’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” she stubbornly said, hurrying after you.

“Jennie, please. I already had to deal with the embarrassment of my girlfriend of 3 years not only not showing up, but also not answering my phone calls. I thought you told me you didn’t have work today?”

“I got called in last minute.” Her eyes looked up into yours, her hands pulling on the collar of her coat before she finally slipped it off. Her fingers were still gripping onto it when you shook your head. She tilted hers, “What?”

“I need to be alone tonight.”

She was silent. Then she turned and made her way promptly to the living room. In her defiance, she spoke calmly, “Be alone in your room then.”

“Jennie-”

“You’re going to sleep anyways. In the morning, we can talk all of this out when our heads are clear. Alright?”

Sighing, you ran your fingers through your hair, “Fine. Good night.”

Rosé:

Her phone’s dial tone was the only sound she heard as she stood under the shimmering stars of midnight. She pulled her jacket closer around her as her feet began to pace back and forth in front of the building that was abandoned after a long day’s work. Your voice stopped her quick steps, “Chae, what do you want?”

“Can you come pick me up,” she asked, cradling her phones against her ear. It’s been a few weeks since she has been able to be with you, she missed you and your warm, sweet voice.

“It’s really late,” your voice was tinged with reluctance. Her fingers almost dropped her phone at the suddenness of it. Normally, you were excited to pick her up.

“I-I know,” her words bounced around her tongue, “but, I-”

“Can’t you just get a driver?”

“Yeah, sure… Sorry.” She hung up the phone in a worrisome daze. Her hollow voice echoed against the empty buildings. Instead of calling for a driver, she instead borrowed one of her companies cars that she still had the key for. Hopping in, the tires were set ablaze for your house.

Her cheeks were pooling with water as she let out a yell when she reached your block. With each inch the tires grew closer, the familiarity of the houses made her even more upset.

When she came to a stop, the car parked crookedly against the curb, she took a moment to take a breather. The intensity of missing you, longing to be in your arms and the hurt she felt echo within her when your voice sounded empty had gotten to her too quickly.

Taking in one last deep breath, she wiped away the tears and exited the car. She was quickly stopped the moment she made her way onto the sidewalk, her eyes frozen when they caught you sitting on your front porch, a bouquet resting beside you in a steam of petals.

Her voice shook for a second as she called out, “Y/N?”

Your glance was slow, full of sadness. Her heart almost shattered as you blinked at her, hoping your eyelashes would brush away your tears.

She took a few steps forwards, “What are you doing out here?”

Her words quickly dried up your eyes, your lips hardening into a straight line. Your head shook, “I can’t believe you.”

“What?” She felt frozen in fear, confusion filling her bones as she watched you stand up and reach for the front door.

“Chaeyoung, did you really forget?”

Her lips started to slip open before she snapped them shut. It hit her. “I can’t believe I forgot about our dinner date.”

The words left your mouth when you pulled away from the doorknob and looked her in the eyes, “Chaeyoung. It was going to be more than that, but-” You stopped. Shaking your head, “Forget it, just forget about tonight.”

You started to make your way back to the front door, but Chaeyoung’s fingers gripped tightly onto your wrist, “What was it going to be?”

“A small black box might ring a bell,” you answered, pulling away and hurrying into your home. Her fist hit quickly against the wood in time with her pounding heart then her palm slid against the coldness of it all. She pulled away, stumbling down the porch and taking a seat on the edge of it. Her eyes watched the night sky that had witnessed the moment of emotions, apologizing to the constellations. Then her gaze slipped to the moon, making a promise with her that she will wait just as the crescent shaped light waits for her shining star in the bright blue sky.

Lisa:

She was out with some friends after work when she had caught sight of you. You were hurrying down the street past the club she was just about to enter, and the moment your eyes met, a chill ran down her spine. She froze, the bouncer grumbling as he tried to usher her in. She almost allowed him to, but you started to make your way over to her. Sighing, she stepped out of the line and met you halfway. She quickly asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I decided to walk home,” you stated bluntly. Your expression was flat, but there was a small fire behind your eyes. “Had a date that didn’t show up, so I needed to blow off some steam.”

Lisa blinked at your words, almost trying to deflect them as her head shook. “What do you mean? Our date is tomorrow?”

“No,” you sighed, pulling out your phone and opening up to the calendar where the two of you promised to keep track of dates in since you both have busy schedules.

She pulled the phone closer. Her eyes watching the bright screen in unnerving confusion. Then her fingers were fidgeting for her own phone in her pocket. Opening it to the background of your first anniversary date, her fingers tumbled for the calendar, pulling up the specific events for the day. Surely enough, Date Night surrounded by hearts was written right there in all caps. Her heart sunk, why hadn’t she checked her phone during the day. Letting the cell fall from her eyes to lightly swing against her thigh, she quietly apologized, “Want to go and have our date now?”

“Lisa, I would rather go home and sleep off the embarrassment. I sat in that restaurant for too long, I don’t want to go back there.”

“We can go to a different one,” she suggested, her hand intertwining with your’s.

She watched as your chest rose and fell slowly, your eyes calculating your decision. Then you finally let them give in, “I am hungry.”

“Alright. Wasn’t there that new restaurant you have been wanting to try that is on the other side of the city?”

Her eyes softened at the light nod you gave her.

With a brilliant smile and a gently kiss, she led you to her car. During the drive, her palm lightly rested on the top of your hand and with a gentle squeeze at a red light, she looked over at you. Her voice was soft, “Thank you for letting me take you on the date still. I love you.”

[thestoryweneededtowrite]

for the i love you prompts can you do javid for #22 OR sprace for #20? :))) i adore your writing !!

22: Muffled, from the other side of the door.

When Jacksuggested a gay club for their third date, Davey didn’t mention the fact hedidn’t drink, didn’t like crowds and had never really been in a club before. Ifhe was honest with himself, he would probably have followed the brilliant,crazy guy who’d started flirting with him in a coffee shop anywhere. Jack wasluminous and he was practically a moth in his presence, following his lightlike he was transfixed. Eventually he’d get over it and Jack would still bejust as wonderful, but Davey would blindly agree with him less as the fear oflosing him over something stupid and tiny went away. But date three? Davey justnodded and quashed any fears he felt.

Walking upto the club, Davey had to constantly remind himself not to let his grip on Jack’shand go from casual to terrified. The club itself at least seemed to bereputable. Davey had googled it beforehand to try and prepare himself for theevening, studying what the people in the promotional photos were wearing andtrying his best to copy them. From the low whistle and flattering complimentJack had given him when he’d picked him up, he’d done a good job.

The man onthe door seemed to know Jack, giving him a nod as he let them both past withoutbothering to check their IDs. The fact that he was apparently a regular onlyserved to scare Davey more. Still, he could do this. A night with Jack couldn’tbe so bad.

Davey hadalways imagined clubs would be too loud and full of too many people, and thisone definitely proved him right. A Beyoncé song he couldn’t name was playing soloudly he could feel his teeth shake in his mouth and he was suddenly hemmed inon all sides by strangers who had had more than a little to drink. His grip onJack’s hand took a step towards terrified.

Their firststop was the bar, where Jack definitelyknew the bartender.

“Heya,Race. You look tall. Standing on a box?” he teased, shouting loudly over themusic to get the attention of the dark-haired man pouring drinks.

“Maybe you’rejust shrinking, Kelly,” Race laughed. “Want the usual? And for the newest boytoy, here?”

Davey knewit was a joke, probably, but that didn’t mean it didn’t send a shot of embarrassmentand dull jealousy through him. He didn’t like the idea of being just anotherman in a long line of people Jack dated. But Jack just grinned and put his armaround Davey, pulling him closer.

“I’ve toldyou about Davey,” he laughed. “Davey, this is my friend Race. He’s a moron anda pain in the ass.”“Oh, cute coffee shop boy,” Race snapped his fingers as it came back to him,grinning mischievously. “I remember. With the ‘eyes you could swim in’ and the ‘assto die for’, wasn’t that right, Jack?”

Davey wasglad for the low lighting and the help it provided when it came to disguisingthe way his cheeks went crimson.

“Piss off,”Jack groaned, but he didn’t seem self-conscious about what Race had said. “Justget us two of whatever fancy cocktail you’ve made up tonight.”

There wasn’ta moment for Davey to explain that he didn’t drink alcohol and would reallyjust prefer water. After a minute or two he was presented with a lime green andneon blue concoction that Race called ‘The Radioactive’ and he wasn’t sure howhe could get out of drinking it. It seemed rude to Race when he’d just made it,and rude to Jack who’d just bought it for him. So he figured that he couldstomach one alcoholic drink, just this once, and he took a tentative sip. Itwas sweet, like liquid sugar in a glass, and thankfully drinkable. A couple ofgulps later, he’d finished the entire thing. Maybe there wasn’t too much alcoholin it after all.

Jack seemedsurprised but slightly impressed by the speed with which he’d finished thecocktail and when he’d asked if he wanted a second, Davey had only hesitatedfor a moment before saying yes. Maybe alcohol was just what he needed for thenoise and the crowds of people to feel less like they were pressing in on him.

-

Half anhour later, Davey was on his fourth Radioactive and he and Jack were dancing atthe edge of the floor. Rhythm was not a gift Davey had been given but he couldjust about manage the unchoreographed movements that seemed to be sociallyacceptable for a club. When he started to feel dizzy, he figured it was justfrom shaking his head around too much and he tried to slow it down, but thenthe overwhelming need to be sick took over and he was bolting from Jack in thedirection of the toilets before he could manage a word to explain why he had togo.

It seemedthe fates weren’t entirely against him as he barrelled into an empty men’s roomand made it into a stall just in time to lose the contents of his stomach. Hishead still ached as he sank to the mercifully pretty clean floor of the stalland reached up to push the lock across so no one would walk in on him. Alcoholwas still bad, he concluded. Especially when mixed with stress and dancing anda lack of food. Just as he was slipping his phone out of his pocket to textJack and apologise for his abrupt exit, the door to the toilets swung open.

“Dave? Youin here?” Jack’s voice rang out.

He thoughtabout saying no and avoiding having to face up to Jack and explain why he wasreacting so badly to the alcohol, but that might mean he never got to see theother man again and he really didn’t want that to be the case so he managed tocroak out a ‘yeah, I’m here’, wishing he had a toothbrush or at the very leastsome mouthwash.

“You doingokay?” Jack asked gently. It sounded like he sat down on the other side of thestall door. “Too much to drink?”

“I…Anything is too much,” Davey admitted, resting his head back against the stallwall. “I don’t drink.”

He was tootired to lie and he definitely didn’t see himself willingly picking up a glassof alcohol ever again, not with the way his head was spinning, so the truthwould have to come out eventually. Why not now?“What?” The confusion in Jack’s voice was clear.“Don’t drink. Never have,” Davey sighed. This was easier to do when he didn’thave Jack looking at him.

There was along moment of silence where Jack was clearly thinking over everything that hadhappened and realising just how many of Race’s high-alcohol drinks Davey hadhad, especially for someone who had never drunk before.“Shit, Davey. Why didn’t you say something? I shouldn’t have… I’m so sorry,” hesaid, and Davey could hear the genuine regret in his voice.

“Not yourfault. I drank them,” Davey shrugged.

It wasn’tlike he didn’t know how to resist peer pressure.; he’d been doing it his wholelife when people had pushed drinks into his hand at parties. He could have justsaid no again, but he hadn’t.“I didn’t give you a choice,” Jack protested. He felt awful.

Davey wasn’tsure what else to say. He could have stopped there but now he had a chance to admitto everything that had been bothering him all evening. And maybe Jack wouldwalk away because of it, but maybe he wouldn’t.“I… I don’t like crowds either. Or noise, or clubs,” he said quietly, but heknew Jack could hear.“Dave…”

But Daveycouldn’t let Jack think this was his fault.“I don’t want to make you feel bad about it. I should have said something. Ijust… I like you. And I didn’t want you to decide I wasn’t worth the time,” he confessed,shifting awkwardly on the cold lino floor. This was the best relationship he’dever been in and he didn’t want it to end so quickly.

Jack was swiftto jump in.“You don’t have to do things you’re uncomfortable with just because you think I…Jesus, Dave, we could do nothing but watch those Netflix documentaries you likeand order crappy Chinese food, and that would be a perfect date for me. Just solong as you’re there,” he promised. And he meant it.

“Yeah?”

“Of course.I think you’re amazing.”

Daveysmiled, despite the pain thudding in his head. There was something warm and comfortableabout someone calling him amazing even after he’d just thrown up and was nowsat on the floor of the bathroom of a gay club.“I love you,” he mumbled without thinking, because that was the emotion hefelt.

As soon ashe’d let the words leave his lips, he regretted it. Because who said they werein love after two and a half dates? If Jack didn’t leave him for preferring a quietertime with no alcohol involved, he might well cut ties for that instead.

But he didn’t.

“I loveyou, too,” he said instead, voice soft and indulgent, but honest. “Will youcome out? Or can I come in?”

There wasreally no reason not to, so Davey slowly stood up, legs a little shaky and headspinning. He heard Jack scramble to his feet on the other side, and took a deepbreath before unlocking the door and pushing it open.

“Hi,” hemuttered, looking at his feet.

Jack swepthim into a hug, gentle but deliberately all-encompassing. It was easy to relaxagainst him, feeling far safer than he had out there in the crowd.

“Let’s getyou home, yeah?” Jack asked. “You can sleep with me.” He blushed as soon as herealised what he’d said. “At my place, I mean. On the couch, or in the bed andI’ll take the couch.”

Daveylaughed. It was good to see that Jack could be as awkward as he was.

“I’d likethat,” he said. “I’d like that a lot.”

[littlebundleofbolts]

Dream M!A: Experience a dream specific to any or all days of the week:

Mad Monday

LS was enjoying a nice hot lazy day on the outskirts of Iacon. No work, no rude customers. All she needed was a nice cool drink and this moment would be perfect.

“Oh no, I’m late. I’m late!”

Optics wide open, LS cranes her helm and spots a pale blue minibot running across the rust bank just opposite her. The sight itself wouldn’t be unusual if not for the decorative waistcoat and pocket-watch he was sporting, as well as the mechanical set of rabbit ears poking out of the top of his helm.

“Flicker?” She calls, finally recognising the bot. ”What’s with the weird getup?”

“I’m late. I’m late, for a very important date.” The poor minibot cries, not even so much as stopping to answer LS’ question. “No time to say hello. Goodbye. I’m late. I’m very very late!”

“Late for what?” She asks, jumping to her pedes and giving chase. “Can I help?”

For such a small bot he was very fast on his pedes, giving LS the slip down the old, abandoned subway system. Not wanting to lose sight of him, LS followed him inside one of the tunnels and crawled after him. The tunnel only got darker and tighter though until she was blindly thumbing around and fell down a sudden hole.

“AAAAAHHHHHHHHhhhhhh!!!!!”

The drop went on for eternity. LS thought she was reaching the centre of Cybertron itself when her fall slowed down and she was practically floating in mid air. In the distance she spotted soft light and landed harmlessly on her pedes in a tiny room with a low table in the very centre of the pit and a door opposite her, far too small, even for a minibot to squeeze through.

So where did The White Rabbit, eh, Flicker, go?

Making sure there is no other secret passage, LS kneels down in front of the door, debating on whether it was possible to squeeze herself through the gap. Not likely. Her hips were not that forgiving. At the end of her rope, LS finally turns her attention to the low table and notices a tiny glass phial sitting on it’s glass surface. Inside the phial was a suspiciously green liquid with a hand written note attached to the container.

~DRINK ME~

“I’m not one for normally doing what an inmate objects tell me to do, but since I can’t think of anything else to do down here.” She sniffs the contents. “It doesn’t smell like anything suspicious has been slipped into it.”

She swallows the contents in one gulp and squeaked as her entire body shifts and morphs into one eighth of its original size.

Success! Now she could get through the door.

The mini-minibot expected to find many things on the other side of the mystic door, but a bright clear sky with well cared for crystal garden and numerous paths was not one of them.

“Where in the name of the Allspark am I?” LS couldn’t think of anywhere on Cybertron that looked nearly as beautiful or as ancient as this place. Following the twisting path, she observes the many plants and wildlife around her, eventually hitting a fork in the road with multiple signs pointing in every direction imaginable, and none of them being remotely helpful in finding her distressed friend ”Where should I go from here?”

“That depends a good deal on where you want to go.”

Yelping, LS spins around and spots an orange, black and white mech lounging on a low hanging tree branch, which she was fairly positive had not been there before. He looked Cybertonian enough, but much like Flicker, had an peculiar set of beast-former like features. In his case, the slender mech was sporting a set of pointy ears and a long swishing tail. His appearance overall had a feline quality to it, not helped by his Cheshire grin.

“Trepan? How did you get-that’s not important right now. Listen, it doesn’t matter which way, as long as-”

“Then it doesn’t matter which way to go.” He interrupts.

“-as long as I get somewhere.”

“Keep walking and I assure you you’re bound to end up somewhere eventually.” He smirks down at her teasingly.

LS stares at him for a long hard moment, trying to figure out how he got here, what was up with his queer appearance, and why he was acting like he didn’t recognise her.

“Go that way and you’ll follow the path that will lead you to the Blue Queen,” Trepan points down the left trail. “Go that way you’ll end up on the front door step of the Mad Hatter.”He points to the right.

“Uh, no thank you. I don’t much feel like running into anymore mad people today.” She stares intently at the decorative signs, trying to ignore the piercing amber stare that greatly reminded her of a cat spotting a mouse. “I guess I’ll go and pay a visit to the Blue Queen.”

“You’re not exactly better off. See, she’s quite mad too.”

“Why are you pointing me in the direction of mad bots?”

“Oh you can’t help that. We’re all mad here.” He grins that twisted grin of his. “Even you.”

“What makes you think I’m mad?” She queries, servos on her hips.

“For starters, you’re talking to a Cheshire Cat and hoping to get an intellectual conversation out it.” He wiggles an optic ridge at her.

She couldn’t argue with his logic.

“I guess I’ll just pick a direction. “Did you see which way Flicker went?”

“Who?”

“Flicker, he’s about my height, light blue plating, running around in a panic?” Trepan blinks. “...he has long audials and a pocketwatch.”

“Oh, the White Rabbit. Why didn’t you say?” He chuckles at her furious expression. “Yes, he did say something about being late for a meeting with the Blue Queen. You might still be able to catch up with him.”

And with that he faded out of reality, his frame unwounding until only his dentae-filled grin remained, and that too popped out of existence.

“What was in that drink?” She scratches her helm, but chooses not to think on it for a moment longer. Fever dream or not she follows the path that will lead her to the Blue Queen, and hopefully, Flicker.

Unfortunately, following the path was easier said than done. Her path lead her through the emerald green forest, which only got thicker and thicker with every step. LS couldn’t keep track of the path and eventually stumbled through the peridot wilderness with no idea which way was north. Growing more and more frightened, LS kept walking until she bumps headfirst into a giant iron structure shaped like a mushroom.

“Who are you?” A deep rasping voice rumbles above her.

Craning her neck back, LS is paralysed by two piercing red optics boring into her own. Sitting on the giant mushroom shaped metal was a mauve and grey mech smoking a colourful substance that didn’t look like it was for recreational use. The colourful vapours drift out of the holes on either side of his face like angry predacon smoke

“Y-you first.” She stutters, taking a nervous step back.

He snorts and takes another puff of his pipe, blowing the vapour it right in her visage. “Why a caterpillar of course.”

LS had no retort to that as she swats the fragrance away. There was no mockery in in his tone, humour or even the slightest bit of jest. Just pure fact, as if this should be common knowledge for anyone with functioning optics.

“Of course you’re a caterpillar.” LS clutches at her helm in frustration. “You’re a caterpillar, Trepan’s a cat, Flicker’s a rabbit, and for all I know, I’m secretly a red panda!”

The mauve mech says nothing, letting the tiny femme’s tantrum run its course as he takes another puff of his pipe, the contents drifting over LS and smelling rather pleasant and soothing her nerves somewhat.

“Explain yourself.” He demands in a level tone. “Who are you?”

“I don’t even know if I can answer that question.” She sighs. “I haven’t felt like myself since I got here, you see.”

“I don’t see.” He frowns, as if she was being the unreasonable one.

“I can’t put it anymore clearly than that.” she says. “I survived a deadly fall, changed my size to that of an ant, seen a perfect blue sky while underground, and met strangers who are wearing my friends faces. It’s been a very confusing day, you understand.”

“Not a bit.” He admits.

“Well, it’s been a very strange day for ME.”

“Who. Are. YOU?” He demands, emphasising each word, smoke enveloping like forest fire

“I think you should tell me who you are first.” She snaps back.

“Why?”

“Because it’s rude to demand someone’s name when you haven’t even offered your own!”

“You know my designation.” He scoffs.

The weird part was. She did know. The moment he first spoke, his name had been hovering in the back of her helm. She couldn’t pinpoint where she knew this mech from or why his blunt tone did not come as a surprise to her.

“I have some advice for you.” Cyclonus says, interrupting her through process.. “Keep your temper.”

“Is that all?” She asks disappointingly.

“No.” He takes a long drag from his pipe and LS stands there impatiently as he takes an eternity to exhale. “Now hold still.”

Before LS can react, Cyclonus discards his pipe, jumps down from his perch and grabs the femme yb the back of her kibble. Effortlessly lifting her off the ground the two are airborne within seconds, soaring above the emerald forest.

“I thought you said you were a caterpillar?!” She screams, frantically grabbing onto his wrist.

“And now I’m a butterfly.” He drawls.

More like an ugly moth! But she keeps that thought to herself.

Thankfully they are not flying for long as they approach a grand, sapphire crystalline palace that could only belong to the Blue Queen. Cyclonus lands them safely in the courtyard and takes off into the sky without a backwards glance.

Walking across the open square with a beautiful energon fountain in the centre, LS goes looking for a palace guard who can escort her to the Queen’s throne room. She stays close to a maze hedge covered in the most beautiful diamond roses she has ever seen. At least, they were, until she spots a trail of them coated in dripping wet paint, leading to a frantic pair of drones carrying buckets of blue paint and spraying the contents onto the remaining roses.

“What are you doing?” She demands.

The drones cry out in terror and frantically panic, but quickly calm down when they spot the owner of the voice.

“We’re painting the roses blue.” The poor drone whispers, frantically spraying more paint on the next rose bud.

“Why? They look better this way.”

“The Queen demanded sapphire roses but we accidentally bought diamond seeds instead, and now its too late to grow a fresh batch in time!” The second drone snaps, craning his neck in case they were being watched.

“But painting them isn’t going to help. You can’t tell they’re suppose to be gems anymore.” Her words fell on deaf ears as they tried to get as many roses painted over as possible, doing a rather botched up job of it in the process. They were so absorbed in their work, none of them heard the approaching footsteps until a horrible shriek pierced through their audials.

“Whose been painting my crystal roses blue?!!”

The two drones look on in terror and shove the evidence into LS’ dumbstruck servos just as a tall, royal blue femme stands before them.

“Which one of you has been painting my roses blue?” Her murderous gaze falls on Lickety-Split, and her blue stained servos holding the paint can.

“Electron? Is that you?” LS blinks dumbfounded.

“Off with her helm!”

Definitely Electron.

“Why can’t we ever have a first meeting where you DON’T try to kill me?!” She drops the paint and makes a run for it, following the retreating drones into the maze.

“After them! I want them captured and put on trial so I can chop off their helms!” That didn’t sound like any legal procedure LS had ever seen, but she wasn’t about the correct the raging seeker thirsting for freshly spilt energon.

Unfortunately, LS was not nearly as effective in navigating the maze and was caught within klicks. A guard grabbing her by the servo each, she is hauled off the ground and dragged to the palace for an audience with the Blue Queen, just like she wanted.

“I want a lawyer!” She cries as the guard drop her on a stand inside a large throne room. The Blue Queen look very elegant on her golden throne, wearing her golden crown and golden sceptre, all decorated with the most beautiful blue gems LS had ever seen. She both regal and fearsome.

“This trespassing scum has been brought before her majesty’s court today for the severe crime of entering private property without permission and vandalising the Royal Square-”

“Objection!” LS interrupted the accuser. “That wasn’t me. I just happened to be there when the crime was taking place.”

Electron raised an accusing optic ridge and looked far from convinced.

“That is not what the two witnesses tell me.”

“What witnesses?”

Electron gestures to the side and LS is shocked to spot both Trepan and Cyclonus sitting with the jury. The Cheshire Cat gave her a friendly wave while The Caterpillar ignored her presence in favour of listening to the proceedings.

“Both witnesses were invited to my garden party today when they, and myself, caught you red handed!”

“They’re not red, they’re blue!“ She corrects, holding up her servos. “And I didn’t do anything wrong! I was dropped in your maze by him-” She pointed at ever stern looking Cyclonus. “And that was only because he-” She then pointed at the winking Trepan. “Told me the White Rabbit would be here!”

As if on cue, the large doors opened and a flustered and out of breath Flicker stumbled into the room.

“S-sorry I-I’m l-late, your majesty.” He heaves with every intake, servos on his knees.

“Hey Flicker.” LS waves in greeting and Flicker openly stares in confusion as the strange femme he met all the way back at the entrance somehow got here ahead of him. “I think I’ve proven my point. I did not intrude on your garden party as I was invited guest.”

Electron considers this for a moment before reluctantly nodding. “In that case I’ll chop off the helm of which ever mech you believe invited you as their plus one.”

Both mechs suddenly looked very concerned.

“But that still doesn’t excuse you of vandalising to my roses!” She tuts, the murderous glint returning to her optics.

“I told you, its wasn’t me!” LS repeats firmly. “Besides, from what I heard you didn’t even want them white to begin with!”

“That is not the point!” She snaps, sharp claws digging into the armrests of her expensive throne. “Unless you can name the real culprits to this crime, you have nothing to back your defence with.”

LS looks around at the audience and jury, but can’t tell the drone apart. She has no idea which two are the real culprit. Seeing her defeated look, Electron’s grin was sharper than any axe.

“This court finds you guilty. Your sentence is death by beheading!”

There was a cheer from the stands and the guards flank LS on both sides.

“Wait! You can’t do this!” She is swept off the ground and past the nervous White Rabbit. “No! Nonononononono!!!”

~~~~~

Lickety-Split let out a glass breaking scream as she tumble out of berth, the sound of her alarm clock blaring in her audials as she lies sprawled across the floor, safe in her sleeping quarters.

“THAT DOES IT! NO MORE MIDNIGHT SNACKING FOR ME!” She heaves, punching the alarm clock and slumping back on the ground again as her processor tries to organise everything that just happened.

Who even were half those bots?

[marbelmasnowshoe]

Forged in Flames (Part 2)

Two Months Later…

Marbelma hated the Ironforge Orphanage.  It was noisy for one.  The other kids were constantly running around shouting and screaming at each other.  Second, the food here sucked, all cooked by a lunch lady who was always grumpy and probably hated her job.  Worst of all though, was Dagrella.

Dagrella was a Dark Iron girl about Marbelma’s age who, unlike everyone else, chose this life.  Her parents were still alive, she just ran away because she didn’t want to worship Ragnaros or whatever evil thing Dark Irons do.  Could’ve fooled Marbelma, because Dagrella was just as evil as any other Dark Iron.  She was mean and loved to bully all the other kids.

Especially Marbelma.

“Give her back!” Marbelma said as Dagrella played a “friendly game” of keep away with Cotton, Marbelma’s beloved stuffed rabbit and the only thing she had left of her family.

“Or what, shorty?” the Dark Iron taunted.  Despite being about the same age, Dagrella was considerably taller than Marbelma.  With her superior stature, she was easily able to push Marbelma onto the floor.  “You know, me Da was a mage.  Learned a few spells from him, even, before I ran away.  Watch this!”

The taller girl tossed Cotton to the other side of the room.  She then conjured a fireball in her hand.  “No!  Wait!” Marbelma’s pleas fell on deaf ears as the bully threw the fireball at Cotton.

The stuffed animal exploded into flames.

Marbelma was shocked, frozen, even.  Cotton…..She was all she had left.  It was Dagrella’s harsh laughter that snapped her out of her stupor.  “Aw, is the little Bronze Baby gonna cry now?  Come on, baby!  Let’s see some tears!”

As the Dark Iron resumed her uproarious, sadistic laughter, Marbelma shakily stood up and stared her down.  Despite the tears streaming down her cheeks, there was no more sadness within her.  First the troll who murdered her family and destroyed her life.  Then Dagrella, who had been tormenting her for the last two months, and finally the death of the one thing she still held dear.

There was no more sadness.

Now there was only rage.

Marbelma grabbed a fork from the nearest table and lunged at Dagrella.

“She stabbed the other child with a fork?” Eadric the Pure asked.

“Aye.” Orphan Matron Hearthkeeper replied with a nod.  “They were in the dining area.  Dagrella, the bully, burned up Marbelma’s stuffed rabbit.  The poor girl snapped, grabbed the nearest fork and attacked Dagrella like a wild animal.”

“Oh my…” Eadric stated.  The middle-aged dwarf woman nodded as she rose out of her chair and poured herself and the paladin some tea.

“I’ve been this orphanage’s matron for nearly forty years now.” Hearthkeeper said.  “It’s rare to see this kind of rage in a child.  The kind of rage that can lead her down a bad road later in life.  That’s why I invited you here, Mr. Eadric.”

“Oh?”

“I understand that you and some other paladins are here to recruit champions for your Argent Tournament up in Northrend?” Hearthkeeper asked as she handed the human some tea.

“Indeed.  We’ve almost gathered enough champions to qualify for the tournament.” Eadric said.  “I suspect this is the last time I’ll be in the Eastern Kingdoms for quite some time.”

“But you also recruit squires, yes?” Hearthkeeper asked.  “Children to serve as apprentices to your argent crusaders?”

“And you want us to take in this child to be a squire.” Eadric surmised.

“Marbelma’s a good girl.” Hearthkeeper assured.  “She just needs guidance, I think.  A Light to show her a way out of the darkness.  I even have a crusader in mind.”  She fished out a folder from a drawer and handed it to Eadric.  The human looked through it, and found crude crayon drawings of a female draenei paladin.  “That’s the woman who rescued Marbelma from that dreadful troll that night.”

“Vindicator Rhyliaandra.” Eadric said.  “Yes, she was patrolling that area as a favor to the Ironforge mountaineers when she heard that commotion from the Snowshoe household.  She saved that little girl’s life.”

“Aye, and I’ll bet it’d be a dream come true for little Marbles to be a squire to her.” Hearthkeeper said.  “That moon goat’s practically her hero.”

“Hrm.  I’ll speak to Rhyliaandra about it.” Eadric said.  “She’s always been a bit of a lone wolf - prefers to operate alone.  But I think I can convince her.  With her sense of duty and unwavering dedication to justice, she’ll make a fine mentor to the child, I think.”

Two weeks later….

“Marbelma!” Rhyliaandra barked outside the smithy’s.

“Coming, Rhyliaandra!” Marbelma Snowshoe, newly-minted Argent Squire said as she came out of the smithy and handed the freshly-repaired sword to the Argent Crusader.  The draenei inspected the weapon with a skeptical eye, then nodded with approval as she sheathed it.

“Come.” Rhyliaandra commanded.  “Our boat will arrive soon.”

Marbelma shyly followed the draenei through the busy streets of Menethil Harbor towards the docks.  She had only been a squire for a little over a week, and already Rhyliaandra was proving a stern master.  She had given the young dwarf a wooden sword and a dummy to practice on.  So far, practice sessions were nothing but a storm of blunt critiques of Marbelma’s form and technique.

“Stop swinging it blindly, and AIM for something.  It’s a sword, not a club.”

“Your follow-through was too slow - an ogre would’ve smashed you by now.  Again.”

“You fight like an orc.  Don’t smile, that wasn’t a compliment.  Orcs are primitive brutes enslaved to their own bloodlust.  If you’re to be a paladin, you must hold yourself to a higher standard than that.”

It was frustrating at times, but Marbelma never blamed Rhyliaandra for it.  She knew it was her own fault for not being good enough yet, and even then it wasn’t entirely her own fault.  As Rhyliaandra said of her;

“Of course you are ineffective as a fighter.  You are freshly mined chunk of true iron.  And I am a blacksmith.  My job is to melt you down, mold you into shape, temper you, and eventually forge you into a weapon of the Light.  It will be a long process, but by the time I am done, you will be a worthy blade for the Light.”

Even so, Rhyliaandra’s training was brutal.  She was unforgiving of mistakes, and was quick to lecture the child every time she whined for a rest.

“We are weapons of the Light, Marbelma.  Does the blade desire a break from slaying its master’s enemies?  Does the arrow complain about flying too fast from the bow?  No - they simply do what they were made to do, as shall you.”

But even so, the training was already paying off.  As she shifted the backpack laden with food, water, armor polish, everything a traveling paladin needs, Marbelma never felt so strong before.  She felt like she could beat the crap out of Dagrella a dozen times over, and with continued training, she was only going to get stronger.  She already fantasized about confronting that troll one day and smiting him with the Light.

As they made their way over to the docks, there was another draenei waiting for them - a male wearing ranger-like mail armor, a pair of hatchets strapped to his belt, along with several strange objects he called “totems.”  It was Rhyliaandra’s brother, Roniaar, or “Uncle Roni” as he had taken to calling himself around Marbelma.  He was a shaman - a practitioner of Horde magic, as Rhyliaandra once told her.

“Hello, sister!” Roniaar warmly greeted as he saw the vindicator approach.  “Got everything?”  In sharp contrast to his stoic sister, Roniaar was nearly all smiles all the time.  Were they really family, Marbelma wondered.

“Yes.” Rhyliaandra replied.  “I’m surprised to see you here so soon - and sober no less.”  The vindicator sneered at her brother.  She once told Marbelma that he was a ‘hedonist’, whatever that meant.

“Well, we ARE about to hop on a boat.” Roniaar said.  “Seasickness combined with a hangover hardly sounded fun, so I chose to take it easy on the ale last night.  Although, I DID meet this nice night elf girl…”

“Not in front of my squire, please.” Rhyliaandra said as she gestured to the young dwarf.

“Oh right!  Nobody told her about the moths and elekks yet, huh?” Roniaar asked.  “Don’t worry, Marbles - I’ll tell you all about it when you’re older.”

Marbelma giggled a bit.  ‘Marbles.’  She liked that nickname.  Her giggles were silenced, however, by a stern glare from Rhyliaandra.  “I’ll go check in with the captain.  The two of you stay here, and don’t go anywhere.”  With that, she walked away.

“How long will the boat ride be?” Marbelma asked.

“Not too long.  A few weeks, at most.” Roniaar replied.  “This will be your first time to Northrend, yes?”

Marbelma nodded.  “What’s it like?” she asked.

“Cold, as you can well imagine.” Roniaar answered.  “And also dangerous - not just from all the undead, but vrykul and ice trolls as well.”

Marbelma shivered.  Trolls.  Like the one that…….well, if she saw a troll up there, she’ll help Rhyliaandra kill it.

“But it’s not all bad.” Roniaar said.  “Northrend can also be quite beautiful.  The awe-inspiring cliffs of the Howling Fjord.  The jungles of Sholazar Basin, teeming with life.  And of course, Ulduar.”

“Ulduar?” Marbelma asked.  “What’s an Ulduar?”

“You’ve never heard?” the draenei asked in playful shock.  “Oh, it’s an incredible story that will thrill, captivate, and-“

“Marbelma!  Roniaar!” Rhyliaandra barked from the end of the dock.  “We are boarding now!”

“I’ll tell you the whole story later tonight - once Miss Bossy-Hooves over there is asleep.” Roniaar whispered, earning a giggle from the dwarf.  She didn’t know why Rhyliaandra seemed to dislike Roniaar so much.  He was nice, and fun!  He was Marbelma’s first real friend since the orphanage.

As the two draenei and dwarf boarded the Northspear, Marbelma couldn’t help but imagine.  What wonders and dangers would she encounter in Northrend?  She had never been so far from home before.  It would no doubt be an exciting adventure!

She only wished that Mum and Da could see her now.  They’d be so proud…

[goodlucktai]

Raph/Casey and 11?

dialogue prompts11: “we could get arrested for this.”

(set in the ghost hunters au, taking place sometime after this prompt)

x

They drove past city limits a good half hour ago. 

This far into the country there’s no light pollution to sponge away any of the dark, and when the headlights go out, it’s like pitch outside the windows. 

Casey tucks the keys into his pocket, and twists to reach over the middle console and rummage in the back seat. Raph stares at him. 

They’re in the middle of nowhere, for no immediately apparent reason, parked on a gravel road outside some derelict Colonial-style house that’s probably been empty for years, and Casey still hasn’t said why.

And now he has a baseball bat. 

“Found the sucker,” he says with vicious triumph, then digs a flashlight of the glove compartment. “Alright, let’s do this.” 

“Case, what the hell,” Raph barks, nonetheless piling out of the station wagon with him. Neither of them have anywhere to be in the morning so he’s not as pissed as he could be, but Raph has never done well with secrets or surprises. “What are we doin’ out here?”

But Casey is already striding away, with purpose, up the drive toward the creepy house looming at them from the dark. 

Raph allows himself a moment of wordless frustration, and another to desperately miss Donatello and the way he could talk sense into Casey better than any of the rest of them could, then follows. 

Casey is very obviously casing the place, prowling up and down the front and peering into the dirty first story windows. What business he thinks he has here is still a mystery, and Raph isn’t amused. 

“Are you seriously going to break in?” he says dryly. “This is private property, even if it’s probably condemned. We could get arrested for this.” 

“Like I give a shit,” Casey says, oddly sharp, and busts out the little window pane in the front door. The noise is remarkably loud in the quiet of the country night, and Raph cusses under his breath and doubles his pace to join his boyfriend by the door. 

“What the fuck, Jones? I was kidding!”

Casey ignores him, reaching through the broken pane and grappling for the knob on the opposite side of the door. It finally gives with a grating turn, and the door sighs open on tired hinges. 

“Couldn’t get hold of Mike today,” he says, shouldering his way inside. He turns the flashlight on and sweeps the beam through the foyer. There’s an inch of dust on every surface, and generous curtains of thick cobweb that makes Raph’s skin crawl. “And that’d be fine, I guess, but Leo and Woods can’t get hold of him, either.”

It feels like Raph has swallowed ice. It isn’t like Mikey to go radio silent. Raph looks around at the dusty picture frames and covered furniture with a sense of creeping understanding.

It does seem like the kind of place Mikey would haunt, with his gadgets and nonsense expertise and his brother’s glasses perched on the end of his nose, looking for ghosts. 

It was kind of charming when he was little – the quirky baby brother, talking to people who weren’t there. Mikey always had a weird way of finding trouble, of coming home with scrapes and bruises no one could account for. It got less cute as he got older, and traded bruises for sprains. 

And when Don died, it got bad, and never really got right again. 

“But why do you think he’s here?” Raph mutters, following the path of the flashlight as they head down the hall into the kitchen. 

“‘Cause someone texted me this address from Don’s phone,” Casey says shortly, and suddenly, his dogged fixation to get here makes a whole lot of sense. “Didn’t answer when I shot a reply back, askin’ who the fuck this was and why the fuck they had this phone. So I figured, might as well show up. Could be that Mike needs me, or – “

“Could be that someone needs their teeth kicked in.” Raph’s hands are curled into fists that hurt at the idea of some bastard sending texts in Don’s name, taking advantage of misguided Mikey, hurting April. “Got it.” 

But a sharp crack and a cry have them hurtling through the opposite kitchen door a moment later. Casey throws open a heavy door to what might have been a drawing room or a sitting room or some rich person shit, and Raph shoves past him a moment later, his heart a painful lump in his throat, because that’s Mikey. 

Mikey, curled into a pathetic ball in some filthy house on a moth-eaten rug, and he flinches from Raph’s hands when Raph tries to tug him up, wide eyes searching blindly for a familiar face.

“Fuck, fuck, Mikey, it’s me,” he says, panicked. “Case, get over here with the light. Kid, look at me.” 

Casey was only a step or two behind him in the first place, and kneels with a soft curse. This time, when Raph reaches for him, Mikey leans into his hands with a breath of relief that works its way out of him like a sob. 

His dusky face is ashen under that impossible mop of curls, and he’s bruised from his temple to his jawline, and he’s trembling as if from cold. Raph hugs him, hard, and keeps him there for a long minute. 

“No one could find you,” Casey says sharply, without preamble, “not even Leo. Mike, what the hell are you doing out here?”

“Dunno,” comes the hoarse reply, and Raph tightens his grip on the kid reflexively, because nothing and no one should ever make Mikey this scared. “I dunno, I – last I remember, I was at home, getting ready for – “

He flounders, and Casey prompts him, a little more gently, “Woods says you were supposed to be at his house yesterday, for movie night. You never showed.” 

“Y- yesterday?” Mikey’s face goes pale. “What – time is it?”

“It’s like two in the morning,” Raph says incredulously. “You’re sayin’ you don’t remember comin’ out here?”

“No! Did you see my Jeep outside? Did I drive?”

Casey and Raph share a quick look. There’s no way they could have missed his Jeep on the lonely stretch of country road, and short of taking one hell of an expensive cab ride out here for grins and giggles, there’s no other way he could have come, save walking. 

Raph’s thoughts take a nervous turn. He can’t help thinking what hallucinations and blackouts and talking to things that aren’t there might mean. 

Casey, on the other hand, is thinking along different lines. His grip on the iron bat tightening, he says, “Do you think it’s – something?”

Mikey flicks a startled look at him. His eyes don’t dart back to Raph’s face, but only by what looks like sheer willpower. Raph has no clue what the hell is going on here, and a whole host of fresh worries to lose sleep over, but for now he stands and brings Mikey up with him, keeping an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders.

“Home,” he says decisively, with a narrow glare at Casey. “We can talk about whatever the hell your ‘something’ is later.”

Casey’s flashlight goes out. Mikey jumps when the room is plunged into darkness, and Raph grits his teeth – it’s been years but maybe he’ll always get angry for this kid’s sake, maybe he’ll always get defensive when Mikey gets scared, even if it’s over something senseless, like a light bulb burning out. 

“Just the light, kid, it’s okay,” he mutters, gruff, but even Casey is pressing in a little closer, and the atmosphere is thick with tension.

“Oh,” Mikey says suddenly, softly, “oh, no.” 

Casey lifts the bat, absurdly, like there’s something in the darkness to fight. The room is much colder than it was when they arrived and it’s becoming something of a struggle to breathe, as though the air is thinning. The back of Raph’s neck prickles and he has to stomp down the urge to look over his shoulder. He wouldn’t be able to see anything anyway, not without a light.

“Let’s go,” he says firmly. “We can find our way out.”

The door slams shut so forcefully that the room shakes beneath their feet. 

Dread drips into Raph’s heart like melting ice, and Mikey says in a very small voice, “I don’t think it wants you to leave.”