#sewer shambles

[sirwolficus]

punches my wall its TURTLE TIME

[storagespyturtle]

[thisiswhereikeepdcthings]

Gothamites watch a zombie movie and just laugh.

The dead rising to walk the earth? Yeah, that just happens sometimes. Aunt Clara got her head blown up five years ago and a month after crawled out of the grave complaining about not killing the sonnova bitch back.

The zombies are shambling corpses that can't feel pain or be stopped at anything less than a headshot and they want to eat human flesh? Those are in the sewers, it's just that Killer Croc normally keeps their population in check. When he's behaving himself Arkham lets him hunt on Thursdays.

The zombies are shrieking hordes that can run at top speeds for hours and infect with a single bite? Pfft, at least they're not Manbats. Those bastards fly.

Gothamites see Red Hood bringing up his death that one time and just rolling their eyes. You're not special, my guy. Join the club. They have biweekly meetings at the library and gluten-free cookies.

I love the idea of zombies being common in Gotham but it’s pretty much a non-issue compared to everything else that’s going on. Even better if most people outside Gotham don’t know about the zombies and completely freak out when they find out. They’d just get a judgmental side eye from the Gothamites who are wondering what their problem is. Some new villain attempts to start a zombie apocalypse in Gotham and it doesn’t even end up making the evening news because like yeah, it’s Thursday. Shit happens.

[copias-sewer-rat]

COPIA'S SEWER RAT RECOMMENDATIONS PT.1

This has been a long time comming! I wanted to take the time to create a long post not only with fic recommendations but also other stuff. The Ghost community is so talented that I needed time to gather all of the amazing projects and ideas that flutter around.

(This even took longer than anticipated because just when it was almost ready some of the authors in this list posted some freaking MASTERPIECES and I needed to add them as well, obviously.)

I plan to do a post like this from time to time with new discoveries, so please if you don't follow/know these creators, please check them out. Furthermore, if there is someone you think I have missed or that you would like for me to check out, please, let me know. I am always eager to know more amazing creators.

(please be aware that some of the fics and artists I will be talking about write some very nasty, yet amazing, stories/art so please always check their tags and tws before diving in).

next part | my masterpost

📝WRITING

Let's start with one of the backbones of this amazing community: @da-rulah and her gorgeous and deliciously nasty fics. Please go read Rituale Septem and Confessional if you haven't already. Her hcs and drabbles are also so so good, you should read everything she has written, you won't be dissapointed.

Now, the wonderful, amazing writer that is @her-satanic-wiles. I have become her personal and most ardent supporter this October (if you could not tell by how much I have reblogged and liked her stuff smh). Her Kinktober challenge this year has been an absolute delight so I leave you with her mastrerlist so you can check her out on your own.

Now, my beloved, the amazing writer that is @writingjourney with my favourite fic to date I Knew Nothing but Shadows. I honestly get such joy when she posts, it is pure perfection. She puts such detail in her writing that it always makes me so incredibly happy to read her stuff. I also leave you with her masterlist, please check her out! UPDATE: SHE JUST POSTED THE MOST PERFECT VAMPIRE SECONDO FIC, you must read it: Friday Nights at the Vinothek.

The great @bupia is next!!!! I honestly adore everything they write. My personal favs are Barista Preferita, Love Letter, Bloodlust, their kinktober series and their new work is Serendipity. I am always in awe with how they write honestly. I want to be y/n so much with their fics (lol, cringe). Please read everything of theirs!

How can I not mention the absolute, amazingly talented, cowboy lover that is @ramblingoak ??? Her whole universe of cowboys (I love cowboys like yeehaw all day you know?) is honestly one of my favs, AND THE WAY SHE WRITES, let me tell you, the DETAILS, the EMOTIONAL backstories, THE ROMANCE, THE DRAMA?! Please go read The Cardinal's Bride and the other stories of the same au if you haven't done so already. You are missing out on one of the best AUs this fandom has to offer. UPDATE: A NEW FIC?! SKATING COPIA?! TIGHT SUITS?! Need I say anything else? Go read her new series: Copia on ICE!

Then, @molly-ghuleh !! I just started reading her stuff and now I cannot stop?! Camellia is SO GOOD you must read it!! It deserves much more attention!!! THE DETAILS?? The love at first sight trope leaving me in shambles???!!! I am seriously invested and I cannot recommend her more! GO! NOW!

Next, my lovely ghestie @discountdemonwarehouse/@eyeslikelilith who is so funny and so so nasty😈💜! Please go follow her here and on Ao3 for her amazing fics (I love her WWDITSxGhost fic What We Do In The Ministry the most hehehehe iykyk)

@leezlelatch and her amazing drabbles bring me so much joy, please go check her out and read everthing she posts, it is wonderful and insanely entertaining. (I cannot choose only one recommendation help, read everything!!!)

What can I say about @earthry other that she is amazing and I that I am obsessed with her drabbles and asks? I have read Watermelon Kisses so many times that you could lock me up.

Go check @zombie-rott out in general! Her stories are very comforting and nice!!! AND THE WAY SHE WRITES??? I love love love it. I highly recomend reading Pawprints, it is adorable, you should ckeck it out.

Please go read @bethbruttenholm's Seduce Me... I fell in love with this fic, so so good, and her writing is *chef's kiss*.

@anamelessfool in general is a master, like, her Omega3 fics are so nice *wink*, extra kudos for Reciprocity muhahahaha (it is delicious)

AAAAAA @gravehags and her curator!reader x copia series??? I AM ABSOLUTELY OBSESSED? THE HALLOWEEN CHAPTER? I WAS GRINNING LIKE A MADWOMAN ALL THE TIME. She also writes a lot about the Ghouls and Ghoulettes and it is SO SO NICE!

@the-curator1 In The Darkness of your Dreams ??? AN ABSOLUTE MASTERPIECE oh my Satan, I LOVE LOVE IT!!!

🎨ART

This list is going to be long and I don't want to sound like a broken record or make this post eternal (because I could talk about all of them for ages if you let me) so I will make only a big recommendation for the following artists:

@vogelfreyh

@piaart

@vanmec

@comfysanda

@nocterish/@nocturnal-birb

@sirlsplayland

@risunsky

@blanchebees

@mardyart

@meowsaidmissy

@forgelokid

@novaiisk

@nekronyancer

@delulluart

@yollur

@quaildoodle

@oranpo

@doodleshrimps

@kabukiaku

@thew0man

@blackbird5154

Please, check all of them. They deserve all the recognition they can get. I adore how much love and effort they put in their art, WIPS or whaterver they decide to make. Every single one of them inspires me so much, I cannot explain with words how proud I feel to be able to look at their creations and share a community or even an interest with such talented creators.

👻OTHERS

This is the one that needs more creators. I need to find projects, creators that do other things such as theorising, gifs, big projects, whatever. Please, give me your suggestions and I will check them out and add them in following entries.

For now, I leave you with a couple of amazing people that deserve all the praise:

@stressghoul I honestly follow her EVERYWHERE. I love her tiktoks so much, she is so funny. The Brittany Brosky of the Ghost community you could say.

@slavghoul If you need any questions solved about our dear Satanic papas, go follow Slav. I have never seen a more dedicated person with such an amazing brain, it is honestly so inpiring to see what they have to say every single time. By the way, also check their videos on all the little isolated parts from Ghost songs, does not fail on lifting my feet from the ground as if possessed, every-single-time. You can check all the videos here.

@kabukiaku again??? YES! WHY?! BECAUSE I ADORE HER PAPA PLUSHIES I THINK THEY ARE THE CUTTEST!!!!

Lastly, I wanted to mention a YouTube creator that is making orchestral versions of Ghost songs. I found an orchrestral version of DATHOML on Tiktok and I had to find the whole song. Please check them out because they are doing more and it is amazing. Jamie Turton.

[currentlyincognitoperson]

The whole town was In shambles for God knows how long until one person who was sick of their job and the city came along and fixed it in no time while wearing a trashcan lid as a hat and having a concerning amount of items in their backpack while discovering life-altering secrets, being visited by the ghost of their dead grandfather, and befriending a creature in the sewer.

That's Stardew Valley summarized.

[fenharael]

I gotta say Radagon/Marika should probably win the most problematic in Elden Ring poll.

Not counting the imperialism, genocide, and forced exile of native/pagan cultures in the lands between... Marika also normalized mutilating infants, locked her own twins in the sewers, divorced her husband by removing his grace after a long battle away from home (fought for her, presumably), summoned her twin/other half back home to take his place immediately after and saddling him with the title of chief home-wrecker, left his ex wife in shambles after assimilating her kingdom and adopting her kids, created a slave class out of crucible touched creatures, played favorites with her kids, instigated infighting and betrayal for the succession of her throne for reasons yet to be understood, shattered the laws of reality for personal reasons, told her husband he was a pathetic dog and would never be her, sowed the seeds of discord in the Tarnished for more personal reasons...etc etc. Radagon did all of that too but also hated himself the whole time, took his religious zealotry to the next level by inventing golden order fundamentalism, also played favorites with his kids, left his ex wife irreparably damaged, let the dog sleep on the furniture, forced takeover of his wife/twin/alter ego's bodily autonomy... I mean the demigods were the children of these two, they really can't hold a candle to the list of their parents totalled war crimes and petty personal drama at the root of world ending catastrophe.

Forgot to add: Marika locked her dog away in a dimension beyond time with the conceptual embodiment of Death and IGNORED HIS SAD HOWLS FOR CENTURIES (?) he just wanted to be a good boy

[justavulcan]

Backgrounds With Class: Golgari Agent

I'll be honest: Ravnica has always fascinated me. I was a high schooler when the first set came out, and I was immediately consumed creating characters for the setting. Now that we've actually received my long-awaited crossover, I thought it would be nice to write a love letter to the setting in the form of another Backgrounds with Class series. After all: some guilds have natural class choices tied in, from a conceptual standpoint. Boros and Fighter, Izzet and Wizard, Selesnya and Druid. But guilds aren’t class-restricted, and so I wonder what it would look like if you paired every class with every guild background, even the ones that seem at odds, like Izzet and Barbarian, or Gruul and Artificer.  So I thought about it, and this is what I came up with.  Some character concepts for each class, and each Guildmaster's Guide to Ravnica background for each class.

Golgari Agent

The Golgari Agent Artificer is one of the kraul, a wingless merchant who recently took over the family business.  Poling a narrow raft through the undercity’s sewer network isn’t glamorous work, but it does afford her a fine selection of various fungi and other ingredients for her elixirs and salves.  If push comes to shove, her alchemical expertise is for more than just brewing potions; many an undercity predator has tasted her home-made deathspore bombs and opted for easier prey elsewhere.

The Golgari Agent Barbarian has been a member of his neighborhood’s hunting party since he became of age.  Eschewing moodmark paint in favor of a hunter’s mottled camouflage pigments, he knows how to track and run down prey with the pack coordination of a wolf.  This talent’s not hyperbole, either; his last encounter with one of the Selesnya’s ledev guardians supplied him with a fine wolf-pelt cowl he wears proudly over his hunter’s paint.  Sometimes he even thinks the spirit of the wolf takes over on the hunt; it would account for the times he’s come to after a kill with blood on his face.

The Golgari Agent Bard knows better than most how things of import can turn up anywhere.  A findbroker by trade, her ability to discover the history behind any gewgaw or trinket she scrounges up has more than doubled her profit on occasion.  Gifted with a turn of phrase and the eerie, low-pitch ocarina she cares for like a child, her ambitions don’t stop at finding lost art- she yearns to be the first to rediscover some buried vault or basement thought long lost.

The Golgari Agent Cleric, in accordance with the Swarm’s care for the cycle of life and death, has been responsible for dozens of acts of euthanasia in her life.  It doesn’t take an expert to recognize when a hunter’s been taken by zombie fungus, or when a red reaver bloom’s explosive dispersal drives a whole apartment block mad with aggression.  It just takes care and respect for the final solace of death to ease people’s suffering.  That her focus also comes in handy fending off territorial disputes is icing.

The Golgari Agent Druid is, technically, a drudge, one of the zombified dead that the Swarm relies on for muscle, both on the farm and the battlefield.  However, unknown processes allowed the fungal parasite to seize full control of the host, and arrive at a consciousness of their own.  Now, they’re busy determining the meaning of their new existence.  While they work it out, they shamble about the Undercity, working odd jobs tending livestock and helping farmers with their natural understanding of other fungi.

The Golgari Agent Fighter is militant, a troll-blooded human with the strength of arm and heart to testify to his lineage.  While for the moment just one of the many toughs that lurk around the Undercity looking for easy prey, his true goal is far less provincial: to climb the Swarm’s political ladder and become one of Jarad’s closest advisors or even his bodyguard.  To this end, he’s quick to speak out in aggression against surface- dwellers intruding on his domain, or take the initiative and lead a raiding party himself.

The Golgari Agent Monk was always gifted with swiftness of arm and wit; as a nymph he scrapped with his siblings more days than not, and has since taken to far more dangerous partners to improve her skills.  He mostly works as a guide for the rare surface-dweller to travel below the sunlit streets, and even distills his own moonshine from fermenting fruit and the ample yeast colonies on his travels.  He’s become quite the alcoholic aficionado, and claims he fights even better when he’s had a few drinks.

The Golgari Agent Paladin was, like many of his Ordruun kin, originally slated to join the Boros Legion as a cadet when he came of age.  He did, but when a raid went bad and he was left for dead in the Undercity by a sergeant he knew to be corrupt, he swore he wouldn’t leave the darkened streets and buried closes of Ravnica until the man lay dead before him.  A childhood roaming the near-surface reaches and a minotaur’s innate sense of direction have served him well, and his new guild feeds the cold core of his desire for vengeance happily so long as it’s pointed at their mutual enemies.

The Golgari Agent Ranger always liked bugs.  Wasn’t much of a choice, really, living in one of the many tenement buildings sunk below the sunlit streets of upper Ravnica- you learned to deal with the scurrying things of the world young.  Cultivating a unique magical bond with them was the work of many long nights, but the result has been beyond reproach- his many tiny friends are stronger than they look, and complement his hunting well as they ensure that his prey can never truly escape.

The Golgari Agent Rogue has aspired to become one of the Ochran ever since one killed his abusive parents in front of him.  Starry-eyed about becoming one of the Swarm’s most famous killers, he moved to the Undercity the next week, escaping the home of his blood family to find new kin.  He had a rough time of it, begging and sweeping out chimneys, but he picked up the poisons quickly, and has always been slight enough to slip down sewer pipes and chimneys to find the target.

The Golgari Agent Sorcerer was a washout before he was anything of real use- literally.  Originally an experimental attempt at forming a drake-human krasis for the Guardian Project, he was mistaken by a careless lab assistant for a failure and flushed out of his transformation tank before his scales, wing flaps, and poison glands fully developed.  Recovered by a rot farmer accustomed to handling the runoff from the Simic lab in question, he’s grown to appreciate his new environment- and has already misdirected or slain the first attempts of the lab’s owner to track him down for retrieval.

The Golgari Agent Warlock always made a point of delving deeper and into tighter environs than his contemporaries.  Never a good fit with hunter or shaman, he explored the depths of the Undercity all on his own before stumbling one day into an as-yet undiscovered chamber.  The figure sitting on the throne there was enormous in size and patched together from all different creatures, but when it stirred to see the boy before it, all it did was offer him a set of knucklebones on string.  Taking them was the beginning of something, and now the man treasures the talisman that forms the link to his patron.

The Golgari Agent Wizard has been a rot farmer for decades.  It’s only now, lately, that he’s set out to travel and study magic in the hopes of winning his farm back.  It was taken from him by a devkarin lich, an objective lesson in might making right within the Swarm, and he hopes to master enough of the necromancer’s art to bend the new owner’s undead farmhands to his will.  He’s quickly finding that things are very big outside his secluded cavern home, and even that he likes it- perhaps enough to keep him from going back.

[ping1n]

Been thinking about the Crimson Cult.

(For the purposes of this post thaumic augmentation is 100% canon. Crimson Warfare is not. Also this post is long AF bc I am very autistic about this mod)

The crimson cult first appear in TC4. Cultists can be found (worshipping? studying? performing rituals?) around their obsidian altars, guarded by soldiers in their distinctive armor. When threatened, they summon reinforcements through portals.

Defeating them drops "Crimson Rites" a book that details the process for the ritual known as "Opening the Eye". However, the ritual is incomplete, and the author is clearly mad. The goal of the CC is to perfect the ritual. Interestingly, it seems this missing piece lies in Thaumaturgy.

Eventually, in the depths of madness, the Thaumaturge perfects the ritual and opens a portal to the Outer Lands, an eerie maze filled with eldritch creatures. Most interestingly, we can actually find the crimson cult here, implying that they actually succeeded. But these cultists are all dead, shambling corpses piloted by eldritch crabs. They've clearly been dead for some time, and upon inspection it's clear that their armor is old. Very old. Not only is it worn, but the design is notably different from the modern knights you encounter elsewhere.

Leaving this time period for now, we move forward by a few hundred years. The fabric of the world, the very nature of magic has shifted. The nodes, small points of primordial magic, have mysteriously dissapeared. Instead, the vis is distributed through the atmosphere in pure form. Additionally, large buildup of flux can now tear through the fabric of reality, creating rifts that eat all they come into contact with. The crimson cult is still here, but they are obviously diminished. Their altars have crumbled, and they appear to have lost sight of their original goal. They appear to have lost a significant amount of knowledge, and the new version of Crimson Rites seems to be a desperate attempt at understanding the new nature of magic and the rifts.

Whereas TC4 acknowledged the existence of other thaumaturges, and indeed other branches of magic, in TC6 the vibe is much more that you are rediscovering a forgotten art in a changed landscape. Alone.

Eventually, a new thaumaturge, with new technology, will learn how to use rift energy to blast open a more stable rift, a fracture that leads unto an entirely new, yet somehow familiar, dimension. This is the outer lands, but the structure of it has changed. The mazes have warped into large towers amidst an eldritch landscape, including vast prison complexes, libraries, and sewers, guarded by eldritch constructs. The nature of this place has changed, it is not only a testing ground but some form of prison. More shambling husks can be found here. Eventually a note can be found from an original thaumaturge, who had arrived in this land using the old method. I have more thoughts about this so they're going in their own post.

In all, these are my thoughts on the nature of the crimson cult:

The cult has existed in at least three forms over the course of time. The first version was much more powerful, and was capable of completing the apertis oculus ritual. It is this group that wrote the original Crimson Rites, before it's slow decay into mad ramblings, as well as building the altars scattered across the world. It is also this group that managed to enter the outer lands, and whose corpses we can still find wandering its halls. I believe that this version of the cult staged a major incursion into the outer lands, seeking to overcome the tests placed by the Eldritch through sheer numbers. This campaign clearly ended in disaster, resulting in the death of the majority of the cults leadership.

The second iteration is that we see in TC4, travelling through dangerous and undtable portals, desperately attempting to reclaim their lost glory and understand the secrets of the past. (I don't believe the cult comes from the outer lands, rather I think they have some headquarters in the Overworld from which they are travelling). After the thaumaturge finds the secret of the Apertis Oculus, they follow in their footsteps, finally launching another campaign into the outer lands, lead by a praetor.

I'm not sure what happens next. Either the cult regains power, and as the outer lands changes they construct the towers as fortresses that are eventually overcome, or they have nothing to do with the towers and just continue in a cycle of campaigns as the outer lands shifts, feeding more bodies to the newly constructed prisons.

Whatever happens, it's clear that the cult undergoes yet another collapse, (if indeed they did build the towers, they are overcome). By the time of TC6, they are a small group. However, they have evidently discovered the secret of stable portals, but no longer seem to be able to control their destination, appearing randomly throughout the landscape. Or perhaps they havent figured anything out at all, and the angry zombies found scattered around the world are the result of failed portals. The changing nature of the Eldritch has cut them off from the outer lands, but they seem to have some understanding of the rifts.

The cult clearly worship the eldritch, but are consistently frustrated as they fail to pass the tests set for them. Perhaps only one who can wield all the powers of thaumaturgy, drenched in the deepest madness, will be able to pass the Eldritch's tests become their champion, for whatever it is they're planning.

[hollownest-whore]

Rewriting a few things, feel free to suggest anything! Or like tell me to do something cooler lol...

In the Neighbourhood AU Ghost and their siblings run away leaving the house life in shambles. Hollow is smothered and locked away inside to keep a steady eye on, and PK (Wyryn) has made all efforts to find his kids. Lemm unintentionally taking in the group having to manage his new unfortunate situation

Shenanigans ensue! Extensive extra info undercut...

Wyryn White, and Lady White. owners of the largest neighbourhood estate, renovating it from its "humble" beginnings to a highly regarded suburban community

Their children in order of age, Hollow [18], Vessel[17], Ghost [16] (Stepdaughter Hornet)[16] and Wilt [10]

Miss Radiance was the previous owner of the neighbourhood "Hallownest" and she now lives in her separate estate, plotting against the White family like a home alone villain

Other important people...

▪︎Uncle Grimm who is trying to help (making it worse)

▪︎Flukehermit (Hermie) lives outside the "Tears" gated area but gets in with grant of her mother being the local waterways authority

▪︎Lurien and [Soulmaster] (the only) members of the Neighbourhood Watch who live together, the former wants to impress Wyryn by finding his kids for him, Soul grows weed/j

▪︎Monomon, principal of the local public school and her good friend/understudy Quirrel, a teacher (Tiso is also a substitute teacher god forbid)

▪︎Herrah, a wealthy woman from inheritance, and is an Investor of the property, worked with Wyryn to rid the previous mistress and had a kid with him (Lady White didn't mind). Has her own "section" of the neighbourhood. And within it, a famous "haunted" forest called Deepnest

▪︎Cloth, Myla, [Godtamer] and Tiso all are in a band called the Yellow Jackets <3 who play music in the lower ends part of the neighbourhood Wyryn doesn't really pay attention too

▪︎ theres a Fight Club called "The Colosseum" ran by "Little Fool" that's known for its brutal consequences

▪︎ the previous community gardens tended too by Lady Unn was renovated into a personal garden's area for Lady White

▪︎dude in the woods that photographs everyone and everything, to keep in a beastiary. Still not as creepy as Lurien

▪︎the horrific amalgamation of lingering regrets from all the neighbourhood inhabitants manifesting into a supernatural force known as void that sucks the life out of anyone who comes into contact with it- it's okay tho it's in the sewers!

As a thank you for reading heres a doodle

[son1c]

Wait. Have I not asked you the obligatory What If Fibula in Sonic Prime/10verse?

so, we all know that new yoke city is an industrialized hellscape. the environment is in shambles, and the eggmen definitely don't care to not make it even worse. there's toxic waste in the sewers--chemical plant zone's grand return?--and the deeper down you go, the more irradiated it gets. i think fibula would be some sort of radioactive zombie abomination, created by them but not on purpose. instead, it's their negligence that gives rise to his shambling corpse, and he stalks around in the sewers underneath the city...

maybe they'd capture him once they realize he's down there, but in the meantime, he's scaring the shit out of anyone stupid enough to try to take short cuts through the city's underbelly in an effort to evade the cameras...

meanwhile, in boscage, i think he'd be part of some sort of under the table g.u.n. project to see if they can revive people who died because of the megaflora. (this goes horribly wrong, as you can probably expect.)

then, in no place, he'd be some sort of water zombie... and he was probably killed by bermuda lol

[glindaupland]

The Phantom of the Opera | Seoul, South Korea | 조팬텀 x 손크리 Review 4/6

October 13, 2023 - Matinée

The Phantom of the Opera | 조승우 Jo Seung-woo

Christine Daaé | 손지수 Sohn Ji-soo

Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny | 송원근 Song Won-geun

Carlotta Giudicelli | 이지영 Lee Ji-young

Final boss of ticketing, Jo Seung-woo! The last one I snatched out of the four in one single ticketing after an hour of suffering. He's a pretty big actor who sells out shows quickly and has also been in dramas and movies. By the time you make it into one of his schedules' seating charts, the seats are all grayed out. So I had to keep refreshing and playing fucking whack-a-mole with the single color specks for any released seats that would pop up. One time I even even made it all the way to confirming payment and it said someone else took it. I actually thought I was about to turn into the Joker. But I am stronger! I won! And after seeing his performance in person? It was worth the fight.

I'll start this off with this tweet:

Shoutout to the guy next to me that was in shambles crying through his binoculars I hope he lived. Admittedly I did get teary-eyed myself! Which is quite an accomplishment even if it wasn't full blown tears like when seeing Ju-taek because I thought I was immune to this show after so long! But this is like uber sad pathetic wet cat man. My seat was actually a great unobstructed view with lots of space in the aisle. The Charlotte is so small that absolutely any view here is a good one especially if you have a pair of opera glasses/binoculars. Also I was safe from the piercing screams of the ballet girls! Hurray!

Hannibal Rehearsal

I really thought "I'll only use my binoculars for the major scenes with the trio because it's too tiring to hold them up", but that was a lie because I loved observing the supporting cast and ensemble too much. This time I watched for the smaller details like Christine quietly singing along to herself on the side while Carlotta was singing 'Think of Me'. Both Christines do it, but I remembered to look for it this show :') Kim Ah-seon had been clearly still recovering from being sick the previous performances, but I think she finally had her strength again this show. I love how elegant and dignified she is and her strong line delivery

The Mirror

Hearing Raoul's voice made the Phantom shoot a dark glare towards the dressing room door. Then, with the slightest smirk, he invited Christine into the mirror. Is somebody proud they managed to swipe the girl from the pretty young rich boy tonight? Ha

First Lair | POTO / MOTN / STYDI

Even if he's like...the most sad sewer creature-y of the Phantoms he's still got his charm okay! His voice isn't very strong, but I think he was able to handle it well enough during my show. He sounds older than he is actually is to me. How do I elaborate without making it sound backhanded? Even though he struggles in some areas with his singing, I think his vocal color is still suited for the energy his Phantom has. I'm just going to have to hope you understand me 😭 Whatever he lacks in that department, he certainly makes up for it in acting. It seems like he never stops onstage, like he's always making so many little choices at every moment. So it was a bit hard to keep track of everything he did because he was constantly doing something and was really immersed. I liked the sort of dreamy delivery of the beginning lines like the whispered way he sings "어둠...속에 - in the darkness". Halfway through the song he seems to build a little more enthusiasm seeing how open she is to him. He used more soft hand movements to act out certain parts of the lyrics like both his ear and then his body when he sang 들어, 느껴 - hear it, feel it". It's like really wanted to paint a clear picture of his mysterious beautiful dark world of music for Christine. I liked when he did a gesture with his hands like energy bursting free when he sang his big note in “네 영혼 다시 태어날 순간 / The moment your soul will be reborn” (let your soul take you where you long to be). This version of the line is unique to his Phantom. He smiled a lot and although he had a bit of a slight odd nervous energy, he still managed to maintain eye contact with her most of the time. Once he finally held her, he rested his head on her shoulder and whispered his words into her ear. 👀 He looked really worried and tried to catch her when she fell. After putting the cloak on her, I think he went to touch her, but stopped himself feeling a bit nervous. He put his hand on his chest instead to finish his final note

"Fake it til you make it" was working so well until it wasn't. Whatever confidence he built up during MOTN...bye. He's a little scary at the end when he shrieks out the 'Curse you!' and an extra 'No!' But most of all he's just really sad. When he asked her "what did you hope to see?" while chasing her, his voice sounded hurt and there was fear in his eyes. Like why, why did you have to be curious when I actually had it under control somehow? He slid slowly to the ground in defeat halfway through the song when he began the crawl. He eventually stopped making an effort to cover his face on his way toward her. Maybe he was so destroyed he didn't have the energy to. I liked how natural his acting felt here. It was tragic without being over the top. But I felt this about a lot of his choices in general

All I Ask of You (Reprise)

What a sad little man, completely a wreck. He covered his ears pleading "그만 제발 그만 크리스틴 다에 ! - Stop, please stop, Christine Daaé!" There should be a Christine Daaé name drop counter for Jo Phantom. He loves to say her name!!

Why So Silent? / Notes II

Taking focus away from the main roles for a moment, André is sooo extra stressed by this point. He fumbled the score when the Phantom tossed it to him. He does this every show, but this time I only just noticed him quickly doing sign of the cross during Notes II when they were opening up letters. He got super jumpy Also, Firmin and André start laughing to each other and making silly gestures making fun of Piangi when the Phantom starts attacking him in his note, but as soon as he addresses them, oh it suddenly really wasn't funny anymore!

The Point of No Return

Somebody help this man he already got jumpy simply just hearing her start to sing. 🤭 JSW Phantom seemed like the weakest one here across from Christine. He’s writhing terribly and gripping himself He was startled the most when she was close behind and he began to tremble. But when Christine finally touches him he moaned a little. It wasn't very loud, but it definitely was there and he threw his head back. His hands reached up to his face as he looked up before he finally held hers. This proposal was a mess. He got down on one knee at one point, but then he got too freaked out and shot right back up again as if he realized it was too vulnerable of a position to be in. When he was unmasked, he didn't scream and it was actually really heartbreaking to me. Like I do love a good scream, but ouch. His face dropped and he froze in complete shock looking like he'd been stabbed in the heart. His eyes darted around for a moment seeing everyone watching him like a trapped animal. It took him a moment to snap out of his daze and run off with her.

Down Once More / Final Lair

After throwing Christine, he almost looked regretful like he realized he was too hard, but then tried to push forward. Because he was fueled by anger, he didn't hide his face away as much like usual. It was still clear he was very actively disgusted by it. He touched his face for a moment after he let go of her and then immediately wiped his hand on his thigh. This performance he was actually able to look into her eyes when giving her the bouquet instead of looking down in shame. When he picked up the mirror bride to toss her he sang his lines into her ear in a whisper and actually very gently just plopped her on the ground instead of throwing her. I love this weird little detail I won't lie...it was kinda cute and silly that he had to hop a little to reach Won-geun's neck with the lasso haha. It's not supposed to be cute but I find it cute okay. He covered his ears while crying when she was coming over to him before the kiss :( After the first kiss it looked like he put his face in her shoulder for a moment, but still didn't have his hands on her. He seemed to give in a little for a second, but then took her hand off his head, looked at it for a moment, and gently wiped it with his sleeve like he couldn't let her have his filth taint her... When he approached Raoul with the candle, he could almost barely be heard whispering "Raoul de Chagny..." slowly in a chilling way before releasing him and turning away. I think he harbors the most bitterness towards Raoul out of the Phantoms. He's the most insecure one, and Raoul is everything he'll never be. He fell and pressed his head into the ground roughly while shaking when he screamed for them to leave him. And his scream was so painful and raw I don't know how he lets that out. He stayed like this for a while before he crawled clumsily and quickly towards the monkey in desperate need of any kind of comfort. He put his forehead head against it, closed his eyes tightly and held it so closely while he sang Masquerade. Christine came back and he tried to fix his hair and clothes before going to her I think SJS Christine was a good match for his interpretation of the Phantom because of how unconditionally compassionate she is. He was very fragile and she's very caring and gentle. I think she really did view JSW Phantom as her guardian and guide and had a very pure deep kind of love for him. Maybe not romantic love, but it was very strong either way. She watched him closely in the boat as she left, but he was facing the other way gripping her veil, repeating her name over and over. He turned at the last moment and called out "Christine Daaé!" one more time to her running over to take in the sight of her one last time. His final lines are actually different from the other Phantoms. It only just hit me the other day that they're the same as the lines from the original production in 2001-2. No idea why it took me that long to make the connection, but I found it interesting enough to note!

I really want to do musical promo time, but I really don't think what's on youtube does him justice. So let me just say his 2019 Jekyll/Hyde + Sweeney Todd and his Hedwig? Incredible. There's a reason for that ticket selling power he has and I say that completely unbiased!

Also lol at the person in front of me on the plane to Seoul that was watching his movie 'The Classic' because I was like "oh hey it's you I'm seeing you in a few days"

[tmnt-tychou]

Four Against One, Chapter One

So I've had people ask me about writing something like this, since I don't mind writing poly. Originally, the concept was a bunch of comedy shorts about Mona trying to date all four turtles at once and it goes about as well as you expect it to.

But then more ideas piled up and I kept changing the concept and the feel of the story. And I finally settled on this. Please keep in mind this is just a fun side project for me to explore this ridiculous idea. Do not take it seriously. I assure you, I am not taking it seriously. I'm just feeling this out and seeing where it goes.

This happens in Bayverse, in the same world as "When Leo Met Mona" only in this version, Leo did NOT meet Mona. At least, not at that time. They don't meet her until after she is mutated.

So...enjoy if you're into this sort of thing. If not, feel free to skip. As I said, this is not a project I'm taking too seriously and I will not be hurt if this isn't for you.

Also, while this chapter is clean-ish, this will eventually be an M-rated fic.

*****

The four brothers walked carefully through the rubble. Police offers were everywhere, the blue and red lights from their cars lit up the night behind them. The turtles were escorted through the building—once an ordinary lobby, now completely in shambles. Equipment had been thrown to the side, doors ripped off their hinges. Blood was smeared on the floors and walls.

This was the second time ever the New York police department had called on the turtles for help. But this time, they had no idea what they were in for. And the further they walked into the building, the more they felt like they were in over their heads.

And officer escorted them through a door in the back that led down a flight of narrow, concrete stairs to reveal an entire sub basement below the office building. Down below, it was far worse. Everything was trashed, smashed, smeared in blood. Bodies lay strewn about. Pieces of human bodies and hulking forms of...something else. Something reptilian.

“Dude, that...are those...mutants?” Michelangelo whispered harshly. There were several. Lizard-like creatures, far bigger than the turtles, laying dead with throats and bellies slashed open. Some partially eaten. Human and mutant bodies alike were everywhere. The smell of death was already beginning to rise.

Police Chief Rebecca Vincent stood among it all, the only thing orderly in all the chaos. As the turtles approached, she gestured to the nightmare around her as if they would have answers for her. But all any of them had were questions.

“What happened here?” Leonardo asked in a low tone.

The chief huffed. “That's what we're trying to figure out. This was some sort of secret lab where they were mutating animals into giant creatures for God only knows how long. Tonight, something happened. Several of these animals got out. We're still trying to piece together what happened. But we're already getting calls about monsters loose in the city. A good portion of them, it turns out, fled into the sewers.” Raphael growled. “No, of course. Of course they went into the sewers. Where we live.”

“Your home turf,” Chief Vincent agreed. “We were hoping you would help us locate them before they hurt anyone.”

“Locate them and then what?” Donatello asked. “What do you want us to do with them?”

Vincent shook her head, obviously overwhelmed with it all. Everyone was still trying to wrap their heads around this absolute madhouse of a crime scene.

“Dr. Falco, the man responsible for all of this, managed to survive. He's insisting we take them all alive.” She held up a black duffel bag. “In here are supposed doses of mutagen. He said this will push them through to the second phase. It will make them smaller, more manageable. In theory, it will increase their intelligence. Even, he insisted, allow them to learn how to speak. It was like he was trying to make mutants just like the four of you.”

The brothers looked at each other.

“So you want us to mutate them and bring them back to you?” Leonardo asked carefully.

Vincent handed him the bag of mutagen. “At this point, I honestly don't know. Do what you can. If you can bring them back alive, then we'll figure out what to do with them. If you can't...maybe it would be better for everyone in this city if you killed them all.”

Four Against One

Chapter One: Animal Instincts

Mona tossed and turned in bed, finding she couldn't sleep. It was unusual to have this problem down in the sewer. It was so dark and quiet at night. It was like sleeping with the weight of the whole city like a thick, warm blanket on top of her. It never took long before she was out.

But tonight, she just couldn't do it. Something about her body was keeping her active, making her muscles restless and her mind spinning. It was maddening. After a good three hours of flopping from side to side, Mona pulled herself up with a huff. It felt like she wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon. Might as well get up.

It was dead silent. Dark and dormant with a few lights stationed here and there for anyone who needed to see where they were going in the otherwise pitch black lair. The idea was to wander in some of the main rooms for a bit until she got sleepy, but light from deeper in the lair caught her attention. Someone else was awake.

The light was coming from Donatello's workshop. Of course, if anyone else was awake, it would be him. He was a self-professed insomniac and liked to keep odd hours whenever he was pulled into another project.

Mona approached the open entrance way and leaned on the frame. A barely audible true crime podcast played from the phone on the table. Donatello fiddled with a piece of rusty machinery as he tried to take it apart. She watched him for a moment, enjoying the quiet zen of seeing him work. He always gave out such a calm energy. She hoped being in the wake of his aura for a while would lull her enough to go back to bed.

Yet, as he worked, she found herself more energized as she watched the muscles of his arms. The flex of his biceps as he tried to pry one stubborn piece from the other. It made her restless all over again and she could no longer hold still. Her legs moved, carrying her in further.

“Hey, Donatello,” she greeted.

He paused and looked at her curiously. “Uh, hey. Can I help you with something?”

She sat herself in the extra chair that floated around his workshop. “I can't sleep. I was hoping I could stay up with you for a while. Unless it's a bother. You can kick me out if you need to.”

He gave her a calculating look. Not the first one she had received from him in the nearly three months she had known him. It was like he was trying to learn her; figure her out.

She was trying to learn them all, too. These four mutant turtles with their mutant rat father that had been living down in the sewers undiscovered for over twenty years now. She, too, had no idea of their existence until they had saved her from a monstrous mutation that, in her opinion, was a fate worse than death.

Her current situation was better than being a hulking beast lurking in the sewers, but it still wasn't ideal. Born human, she was now mutant; still reptile in form with a broad snout, green skin, and a long tail that irritated her on nearly a daily basis.

Unable to be a part of the human world any longer, she lived in the sewers with these other mutants. Very sweet and intriguing mutants who opened their home to her when she had no place to go. She would be forever grateful for their hospitality, but this wasn't her home and these mutants weren't her family. Three months in, she still felt like a guest, like she should be moving on soon. She wished she could. She hated relying on others; taking without being able to give back. Eventually, she would take too much and they would be done with her. In the meantime, she tried not to be a bother.

“No, you can stay,” Donatello said. “I don't mind at all.”

“Thank you.” The words were weighted, as they always were. Thank you for tolerating me for another day, even though I am a stranger. Even though I am useless to all of you.

He went back to fiddling as she curled up in the chair, feet tucked beneath her. Trying to take up as little as possible in a room that wasn't hers. Trying to be invisible, soundless. She didn't want to disrupt. But only a few minutes in, she started rocking back and forth on the chair as she looked around. The rhythmic tick, tick, tick of the chair caused Donatello to look up at her.

“Sorry,” she said, when she realized what she was doing. “I'm really struggling. I don't know why I can't sleep. I feel very mmm...kinetic tonight.”

A smile pulled at the side of his mouth. She had a different vocabulary than his brothers. Her choice of words amused him at times.

But his lack of response made her nervous. She stood up. “You know what? Maybe I'll go watch TV or something. I don't think sitting here bothering you is the answer. I'm sorry to come in.”

When she moved to leave, he stood up. His height towered over her. His broad shoulders took up space. For some reason, Mona found herself hyper aware of those two things about him.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” he asked. He seemed almost surprised himself to offer it. “I'll go with you.”

Gratitude flooded her. A feeling where a thank you didn't seem to be enough. But she said it anyway. “Thanks. I'd really like that.”

Donatello grabbed a flashlight and led the way to some of the catacombs at the back of the lair. They tended to be much dryer with less runoff. Not that there was much runoff anywhere. The summer had been usually dry this year.

Mona was getting more and more familiar with the different tunnels in the area. She even knew how to get to the surface if she needed to. But the surface scared her. She had been a few times, but she didn't like to go out too long. When she was exposed, it felt like she was showing the entire city what she had become, and she was still coming to terms with it herself.

“You're not a bother, by the way,” Donatello said suddenly, breaking her from her thoughts. “I've noticed you apologize a lot whenever you need something or you're taking up our time. None of us mind helping you.”

“Yes, all of you are amazing,” she agreed. “You guys have been so, so great. But I feel bad. I've been here a while. Even now, I'm taking up your time. Time you would have had if I wasn't here bothering you. I've always been one who's paid my own way. I wish there was at least more than I could contribute.”

“You contribute,” he insisted. “We all love that you cook for us, we appreciate when you clean. You've patched us up when we're hurt, you've stayed up with us when we're sick.”

“So I'm your mom,” said said with a hint of dissatisfaction.

Donatello frowned. He didn't like the sound of that either. “No, it's not like that. You just...the lair just feels nicer with you in it. You also give us something pretty to look at, so there's that.”

“Me?” she asked stupidly.

He smiled and gave a shrug.

Her gaze turned to watch ahead of them by the light of the flashlight. She never thought of herself as that pretty as human. Good enough to get by. Maybe even cute on her best days. But as a mutant lizard...she tried not to look at herself in the mirror for too long. She had sometimes wanted to apologize to them for having to look at her.

But that comment...was he serious? He was a reptile, too. Maybe to him, there was a different beauty standard. She herself thought all four turtle brothers were cute as hell. It had taken a while to get used to them—to wrap her head around the fact that talking giant turtles existed—but after that, it was easy to enjoy being around them. To learn their quirks and personalities, to discover how sweet they all were. To learn all the turtlely things about them and find out each one just endeared them to her more.

If Mona was really honest with herself, she'd had to admit that she was crushing on them all a little. Though she assumed it mostly came from the fact that she had hardly had any interaction with anyone else aside from the brothers and their father. That and she had never been treated as kindly as this family had treated her. She was growing to love them, but at the same time pitied them for being stuck with her growing affection for them merely because they had been kind to her.

“You've gone quiet,” Donatello spoke after a few minutes of silence. “I'm sorry if I said something bad.”

“You've never done or said anything bad since I've known you, Donatello,” came the soft response.

He paused and shined his flashlight on her. She blinked in the strong light, unable to see him other than the reflection of his glasses.

“I keep trying to read you, Mona Lisa, but I always feel like I'm missing something.”

She shrugged. “I don't know what that is. I'm just your average girl who was kidnapped and mutated against her will, faced off against a bunch of scary monsters—both human and mutant. And then found this sweet family of adorable turtles and their rat dad. And now I live here in the sewers. Tale as old as time.”

The light was still on her, as if she was being interrogated. “You don't talk much about before your mutation. Who you were; if there's anyone out there who might be missing you.”

“There isn't. There's not much to talk about. Just another poor twenty-something trying to work and keep the bills paid and the lights on. I'm afraid I'm not an interesting person.”

“I find you plenty interesting, Mona Lisa.”

Mona held a hand up to her eyes to block out the light. Trying to see his face; to see if he was being serious. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Of course.” Donatello's answer was pragmatic as he lowered the light.

In truth, she often flirted with all the brothers. And they usually flirted back. Sometimes even Leonardo—on the rare occasions she could get more than two words out of him. They were growing on her, always endearing. She liked having their attention. It made her feel special. Having Donatello's attention right now, hearing the soft, playful tone of his voice, made the core of her gently tighten. That was new.

“You're quite good at it,” she flirted back and they settled back into walking. “Very charming.”

He didn't respond, but she could feel him smiling. All four brothers would get flustered whenever she complimented them. It was cute. They were all so big, strong. They could be dangerous if they wanted to be. But they all melted with flattery and affection. Mona was happy to be the source of both of those things. It was one of the very few things she had to offer.

The tunnel narrowed and they had to walk close. Mona's shoulder brushed his arm so many times it seemed like he was seeking out the contact on purpose. Likewise, his knuckles touched the back of her hand now and then, silently asking. They liked to be touched, she had noticed. But this was distracting. She settled it by taking his hand. Three-fingered with thick, scaled skin. She didn't mind touching him. She never minded touching any of them.

When she did, something in Donatello relaxed. He was quiet, but silently pleased with this. Mona wished she could be so relaxed and pleased. She still felt like energy was running through her. Even though his thumb rubbing the back of her hand soothed her a bit. Donatello's presence was always soothing; calm.

They walked in companionable silence as their route turned them around and they headed back into the lair.

“Better?” Donatello asked as they entered the comfortable, familiar tunnels.

“Yeah,” she lied. “I think I'm going to try to sleep now. Thank you for spending some time with me.”

He still had her hand; still ran his thumb over it like he wasn't done feeling the texture of her. “My pleasure.” His voice was a soft whisper. It stirred her body in a way she wasn't prepared for. “Hug?”

Michelangelo asked for hugs the most. Donatello was a close second. She never minded as she slipped her hand out of his and then raised her arms. The very tall turtle stooped down so she could wrap her arms around his neck. He slowly straightened, carrying her off her toes. She loved when he did this. A joyful noise squeaked out of her and she gave a few happy kicks before he set her back down.

She felt a little flush after being pressed to his firm body, but tried not to focus on it.

“Good night, Donatello.”

His voice remained soft and raspy. “Have a good night.”

*************

Early the next morning, Leonardo paused when he walked into the dojo and found that it was already in use. Usually, he was the first one up and enjoyed at least an hour of quiet time before the rest of the family began to stir. But today, the light was already on. Mona Lisa sat lotus style, eyes closed and back straight. She opened her eyes as Leonardo silently entered.

She must have noticed him pause. “Sorry, am I going to be interrupting your personal time?”

She was. Leonardo liked having his quiet mornings alone. But that morning, he didn't particularly mind her company. She was usually a quiet person and he appreciated that about her.

“You're fine. Do you mind me joining you?” he asked as he sat himself in a similar position.

“Please do. I'm not having much luck on my own.”

Leonardo didn't say anything. He had learned merely by waiting, he could always get more information out of her.

“I couldn't sleep last night. I'm feeling a little frayed. Like there's this energy in my body that won't stop churning. I thought maybe some meditation would help, but I don't know what I'm doing. Am I supposed to be thinking about something? Or am I supposed to empty my head and think about nothing?”

A slight smile pulled at the side of his mouth. “I guess it depends on what your goals are: to quiet the mind, or to contemplate something that's been on your mind.”

She furrowed her brows in consternation and he found it to be quite cute. “What do you think about when you meditate? Or is that too personal to ask?”

“I try to think about my goals. How I want my day to go. How I can be a better brother and a better leader to my team. How I can improve on my skills and myself. Admittedly, my brain likes to wander to my mistakes and dwell on them. I try to spin it to the positive. Learn from them. Do better the next time.”

“Damn,” was Mona's response. “That's a good answer. I'll try some of that.”

Leonardo smiled a little more. There was something about her that was gentle, but amusing. He enjoyed her energy. As he settled into his own meditation, he was reminded of that as she remained a quiet and calm presence beside him. But she was still a presence. Normally, he could tune out his sensei and even any of his brothers if they were meditating beside him.

But her. Something kept calling him to her. Meditation for him was like sitting in a comfortable darkness. With Mona, she was like a soft glow next to him. Not loud or distracting, but definitely there. He opened an eye to look at her. She wasn't moving or making any sound. She looked relaxed; she wasn't even breathing loud. So why did his head keep turning in her direction? Was it her smell? He could definitely smell her. She smelled very nice. She smelled...attractive? Was that the word he was looking for?

He didn't say anything and let her be. For Leonardo, that morning's meditation was spent trying to keep his focus. He did not have much success. Still, it felt like it wasn't too long before Splinter came in for his own morning meditation. And after twenty or so minutes, the other turtle brothers trundled in.

“Ooh, look who's up,” Michelangelo greeted. He crouched behind Mona and gave her a light one-armed hug around the neck. “Morning, Mo-Mo. Ooh, you smell really good today.”

“Hey, Mike,” she greeted back, still not moving.

“What are you doing up so early?”

“Having quality time with Leonardo.”

Leonardo glanced at her. She had one eye open in his direction, smiling as if she just told a joke. “Jealous,” Michelangelo replied and moved to find his own space on the floor where he began doing stretches. “When do I get my quality time?”

“With Leonardo? You'll have to ask him.”

“I wasn't talking about Leo. You know what I meant.”

Mona just grinned.

Raphael came in next and he too paused at the extra person before sitting in front of her and beginning his own stretches in preparation for training.

“Hey there, Big Eyes. You come to train with us this morning?”

She snorted. “Probably not. Not interested in getting my ass kicked today.”

“Nah. I'd go easy on ya. You using a new shampoo or something? You smell good.”

“Right?” Michelangelo piped up. “She smells super good this morning.”

Mona subtly sniffed her shoulder, then her hair. Then down the front of her shirt. “I'm not sure what that is. I don't smell anything.”

“Did you go to sleep at all?” Donatello's voice asked as he walked behind her.

“Not really,” she said guiltily. “Just wasn't my night.”

He crouched behind her and touched the side of her neck with the back of his fingers. “You're a little warm. Do you feel okay?”

“About the same as last night. Like I need to be awake for something. I just don't know what that something is. I think I'll make myself stay up all day and then hopefully I'll crash good tonight.”

Donatello paused and then overtly breathed her in.

“She smells good, huh?” Michelangelo grinned from where he stretched in a complicated pose.

“That's not how you usually smell,” Donatello mused. “Interesting.”

“What do I smell like? I don't smell anything.”

No response. Mona specifically looked to Leonardo, as if they were all keeping a secret from her and she knew he would be the one to speak the truth. But the blue-clad turtle shrugged. She did smell different, but he didn't know how to put it into words.

“Alright, time for training,” Splinter announced as he finished with his meditation and stood. With a sharp clap, the turtles immediately stopped their chatter and stood in a straight row before their sensei.

Mona stood as well to get out of their way.

“Can I stay and watch?”

Splinter eyed her while at least half of his sons were openly nodding. Before, she had always been politely told the dojo wasn't a safe place to be during training and the reasons were obvious. Very large mutants with very dangerous weapons would be whipping around at high speeds. Mona had no training to keep herself safe. But she couldn't learn if she wasn't allowed.

“Yes, you may,” Splinter agreed. “But you will adhere to every rule.”

She straightened. “Yes, sir.”

“You will sit where I put you. You will not move while there is any activity on the mats. You will pay attention to what is happening. If you break these rules, you will be asked to leave. This is completely for your safety.”

She nodded emphatically. “I can do that.”

“Very well.”

Splinter offered her a pillow to kneel upon close to the wall. Far away from any fighting. He stayed with her while the turtles warmed up. They pulled out their weapons and began performing complicated katas. To Splinter, it was obvious they were showing off for their audience of one. He let them. When they were sufficiently warmed up he called for them to stop and they obeyed.

“Weapons, here,” he pointed to a spot next to him and the brothers complied, setting their weapons down. “From the wall.” Splinter nodded to the collection of weapons adorning what was aptly named The Weapons Wall. “Donatello: daisho. Leonardo: tonfa. Michelangelo: kama. Raphael: naginata.”

Without their weapons of choice, it was obvious to the master that his students weren't as comfortable. But but they were also ninja and should be able to make a weapon out of anything. He allowed a few moments for the turtles to get used to the weight and swing of their new weapons. Raphael was enjoying the reach of his long, bladed staff and kept poking Michelangelo in the shell with it. The smaller turtle parried back with his kama; two short handles with curved blades. Like miniature scythes. Leonardo spun his double tonfa expertly, but it was clear he didn't like that they were more a defensive weapon and had barely any reach. Donatello looked the least comfortable with his allotment as he handled the sword set and awkwardly strapped them to his body in a way he could reach both swords. The shorter sword stayed in its sheath in the front while he swung the long sword around in a way that told he was used to handling a staff.

“Pair up,” Splinter then ordered. “Raphael and Donatello. Leonardo and Michelangelo.”

The designated pairs faced each other. When their sensei gave the order, the fighting began. It started a little slow at first with each brother getting into the feel of their weapon. Usually they were a lot more devil-may-care when playing with weapons. But they were aware of their audience and didn't want to look clumsy.

But Splinter didn't care who was watching. He was there to make sure his students were always on their toes. Once the sparing fell into a more comfortable rhythm, Splinter left his post at Mona's side. He noticed her posture was rigid, back straight. Her thick, heavy tail thumped on the mat. There was an energy from her that made him almost want to raise his hackles. Strange, but he was more focused on his sons. Though he felt almost a relief at moving away from the lizard mutant.

The turtles were a whirl of movement and blades. A dangerous place to be of anyone untrained. Splinter, however, walked among the battles effortlessly untouched as he dodged bodies at least twice his size. Every once in a while, he would hit one of them with the blade of his hand. Sometimes the attacks were dodged or blocked. Most of them hit their mark.

“Be aware of everything around you,” Splinter barked. “Not just your opponent.”

And yet, he too was only focused on his sons. Though something niggled at the back of his mind. Mona Lisa was at the periphery of his senses. Her tail still slapped against the solid floor. It swished back and forth in agitation. These were not normal behaviors for her. Somewhere in the primitive part in Splinter's rat brain and voice whispered Predator.

He glanced back at her and the primitive part of his instincts took over for just a second. A second was all it took. Splinter jerked into Donatello, who glanced back in time to nearly get sliced from Raphael. Leonardo became distracted by Donatello's stumbling as Michelangelo surged forward. And everything fell apart as turtles and rat all collapsed gracelessly on top of each other.

For a second, everything was silent, save for the swishing sound of an anxious tail.

“What happened?” Raphael demanded.

“Dudes, she's doing the predator eyes again,” Michelangelo hissed.

All eyes turned to Mona Lisa, who had obediently remained where she was. Her posture still stiff, tail swishing like an interested cat. Her normally human-like brown eyes had changed. The whites turned yellow, the pupils now long, reptilian slits.

Leonardo stood up, fists gripping his weapon as if to protect himself. They had seen her do this before, shortly after she had first changed. “Mona,” he said carefully.

She looked up at him. “Hm? You guys okay?”

There was a visible sense of relaxing from the group of prey animals.

“We're okay. Are you...okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be okay?”

Donatello took a few steps forward, but still kept his distance. “Your eyes...”

She blinked at him several times, then stood. Swiftly, she removed herself from the dojo.

************

Mona ran to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were slowly going back to normal, but the evidence of what they had looked like was there.

“No...no, no, no,” she whispered. “Why is this happening again?”

She saw Donatello appear in the reflection behind her. “Let me see,” he said softly.

She turned with a sigh. She didn't want to. She didn't want him to stare right into her soul with those intense golden eyes of his. Always calculating, always taking in so much of her with every look. His hand held her chin as he studied her. He didn't need to touch her to look at her eyes, but he always touched. And she wanted to lean into it.

“They're pretty normal now. Do you know what happened? Were you feeling scared or threatened in the dojo?” he then asked as he pulled back.

“No, I was just watching you guys.”

“You looked kind of intense, babe,” Michelangelo said from the doorway. The others were lurking in the hall. “What were you thinking about?”

A flush warmed her face. She had been watching alright. Watching the display of speed and strength. Watching how their muscles moved, how their bodies glistened with sweat. The silhouette of them, the masculine energy they brought with them. It excited her, though she hadn't felt any changes in her body.

“I don't remember thinking about much, I was just watching.”

She must have still looked a little wide-eyed because Donatello put his hands on her shoulders and spoke in a calm voice. “Let's take a blood sample just to be sure.”

Now all that was on Mona's mind was worry. The mutation had been rough, traumatic. It had left her a different person, both physically and mentally. Even after the second mutation, she still dealt with some changes. Ones she thought she had mastered, but if she was changing again...

She was hardly paying attention as Donatello stuck a needle in her arm. So far, there had been no possible way to change her back to her original human form. But if she was regressing back to what she was before...it was her nightmare.

“I don't see any further mutation,” Donatello announced as he looked at her blood through a microscope. “It's still the same as it was. The cells aren't changing.”

Mona let out a sigh of relief. She felt Michelangelo give her shoulder a soft squeeze. She hadn't even noticed his hand was there until then.

Paper from the oldest printer Mona had ever seen was spat out and Donatello looked at the readings. “Here we go. Your hormone levels have shifted. That's why you've been feeling off. Estrogen and pheromone levels are up. Which means you're uh...entering a mating cycle.”

Mona blinked at him, trying to make sense of the words. “A what?”

“You're in estrus. Or in layman's terms, you're in heat.”

She snorted. “Fuck off, Donatello. Humans don't go into heat.”

He snorted back, unused to being told to fuck off. Especially by a woman. “You're not all human. Not anymore. Some of the animal tendencies from your reptile DNA may take over from time to time. It's already happened before with you.”

“Yeah, but I have a human brain. So is it even a thing?”

“It's a thing. And it kinda sucks when it happens.” Raphael said with arms folded across his chest. This gesture wasn't aggressive. It was more of a self-soothing motion. Like he didn't enjoy the topic of discussion.

Mona looked even more confused. “It happens to you guys, too?”

Hesitant and disgruntled murmurs from all four turtles.

She suddenly looked unsure. “Is it happening right now?”

“Nah. Ours comes in the spring. This late summer shit is new to me.”

Donatello was typing on the computer. “It says on this article that Komodo dragons—your main source of reptile DNA—mate during the dry season, which is usually late summer. Uh, we have had a pretty dry summer lately.”

“Fuck me,” she groaned.

“Is that an invitation?” Michelangelo asked cheekily.

Mona shot out of her chair and quickly moved out of their reach. “No, that was not! Do not...” She gestured in warning at them. “Just...DO NOT.”

“We're not going to do anything to you,” Leonardo said calmly. “You're safe here. I promise you.”

None of the turtles made a move toward her, which she appreciated. Her mind was racing as she tried to get a handle on the situation. Suddenly, it all made sense. Her restlessness. The way she had been hyper aware of everything the turtles did lately. How her gaze would zero in on their strong necks when they swallowed, on their mouths when they licked their lips. How she kept staring at their bodies; the defined arms, the shape of their torsos. The delicious way their thick thighs filled out their pants.

“Now I see why you got excited,” Donatello continued as he looked at his computer screen. “In the wild, male Komodo dragons will fight each other to win females. Watching us spar made you—”

“It sure as hell did not!” she shot back, cutting him off. Her voice had gone higher than normal. “That is not what is happening here! Oh my God. I—I have to go.”

She immediately left with Raphael calling after her. “Where you gonna go? The lair's the only place you've got.”

Leonardo was the first to follow after her, mostly just to make sure she wasn't going to do anything drastic. As it turned out, Mona only went to her room and firmly shut the door behind her. She was quiet for the first few moments as the turtles gathered outside.

“Mo-Mo, baby, it's okay,” Michelangelo called to her door. “It's not that big of a deal. We've been dealing with it for years and we always get through it.”

Her door opened and she was suddenly in his face. “Really?” she asked, looking desperately hopeful.

God she smelled good. Intoxicatingly good. He tried to ignore it, even as his body warmed. “Yeah, you'll be okay. I mean, you're going to be cranky and so horny you'll want to bang anything with a pulse, and sometimes things without, but you'll get through it. It only lasts like two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Her pitch rose another octave. “That's longer than a period! What the hell?”

“Well, that's our cycle,” Donatello said. “Komodo dragons seem to have a really long mating season. Yours might be longer.”

Leonardo elbowed him to shut up.

“I'm just saying,” the tallest brother insisted. “It's good to have all the facts.”

“Another fact is, Mona, that we're here for you,” Raphael said, trying to smooth the conversation over. “We'll help you through it. Whatever you need.”

He hadn't meant it in a sexual way, but Mona's eyes suddenly went wide and he realized his poor word choices.

“Oh my God, no!” she cried and promptly slammed the door in their faces.

“She's going to be okay, right?” Michelangelo wondered.

A moment later, the turtles could hear the unique sound of her angrily screaming into a pillow.

*****

Tag List: @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @androidships007 @snackugaki @red-phoenixxx @leosgirl82 @dilucsflame33 @happymoonangel @fluffytriceratops

[tk-bubblyboba]

In honor of December 1st, here’s an idea that the 2012 turtles get sensitive around Christmas.

In season 3 finale it’s shown that it’s snowing when Leo gets attacked, meaning the finale takes place during winter. Meaning that they presumedly close to in December.

Leo was in a coma for 3 months and when he wakes up, winter season is over.

Leo was in a coma for Christmas and New Years.

At this point in time they hadn’t any idea where their father was, he could be dead for all they know, New York is in shambles, they’re in a place they have no idea how to navigate, and they can’t even count on eachother to be ok when their older brother is in a coma and has shown no signs of waking up.

For all things considered, they were all alone for Christmas.

Granted they had Casey and April, but it wouldn’t be the same. Every holiday they’ve spent with eachother and their father.

And now, they’ve lost the two people that were supposed to be invincible.

Now, in the present after s5 I think each Christmas they latch onto eachother. Being extra clingy, constantly checking on eachother and their friends, and being extra protective(especially over Leo).

That day, on Christmas, they hang out with their friends, open presents and have a good time. Once the party is over and everyone goes home the sewers grow quiet, and the turtles shuffle silently to the dojo, each holding their own small batch of presents. They enter Splinter’s room, each item in the same place it had been all those years ago and climb into his bed, forming a turtle pile.

There they spend the rest of Christmas in master splinters room, huddled together and clinging to eachother as though they would disappear if they let go.

[bracketsoffear]

Godrick the Grafted (Elden Ring) "By dismembering someone and attaching/grafting their body parts to his own form or one of his creations, they gain the resulting limb's properties. Godrick's rampant grafting especially on himself has turned him into a shambling mass of limbs. In addition to having at least six fingers on what are presumably his natural arms, Godrick has grafted dozens of arms onto his back and dozens of legs onto his legs. If that wasn't bad enough, in his second phase, he cuts off his own left arm and fuses a dragon's head to it. It’s for this reason that his epithet was changed from "the Golden" to "the Grafted". Disrespected by his subjects and never commanded as much respect as the other demigods due to only being distantly related to their godly lineage, producing a raging inferiority complex that drove him to depracvity in order to “prove” himself. He has slaughtered thousands of people and literally grafted their limbs to his horrible, malformed body, has torture chambers full of bags of human remains in his castle, chops off his own arm and sticks the bare bloody nub into a nearby corpse at the start of his second phase, and cackles like a maniac all throughout his fight with the Tarnished. Also, judging by the contents of the kitchen and dining hall at Stormveil, Godrick and the other Grafted regularly eat the leftovers of their victims once they've taken all the valuable limbs. Godrick has his followers conduct hunts for the Tarnished so they may be sacrificed and be grafted onto the Grafted Scions, chaotic messes of limbs and body parts—at least 2 torsos (with one being as large as a Troll's), several limbs held together by the hands, random feathers strewn about its sides, and a small bird wing, with a young noble being the head in the center. Represents fears of cannibalism, mutilation, being slaughtered for meat, bodies being twisted/reshaped/butchered, and insecurity."

The Giant Meat Snake (Vita Carnis) "Technically meat snakes are a category of creature within the alternate Earth world of Vita Carnis, but the specific Meat Snake I’m referring to is the one that engorged itself on a bunch of WWII corpses and was only discovered because it ended up clogging a sewer. Meat Snakes are worm-like creatures made entirely of living meat. Unlike some of the Other creatures of Vita Carnis (who are better-fit for other entities), Meat Snakes don’t consume living matter, making them very useful for things like corpse disposal. The more meat they consume, the bigger and stronger they become. They also sometimes wear the skulls of the animals/people they’ve eaten like Halloween masks. Vita Carnis as a series in general is Very Flesh-core, but the giant WWII Meat Snake feels like the best candidate for becoming a Flesh Avatar."

[blaiddfailcam]

I've always assumed 621 was totally plugged tf into their AC, like feeding tube and poopy tube and all, completely dehumanized and reduced to a moving part, which made that implied scene where they crawl through the sewers beneath Institute City to climb into the junker AC all the more visceral. Just some skinless, hairless, scorched husk of a human being, shambling through a landscape made hostile to ambulatory life, a world built solely for the mechanical giants of man's most baneful dreams...

Which makes it all the funnier when I see 621 depicted in fanart as a slay twink, because like, I forgot that was equally a possibility. Maybe they serve cunt on main and the whole piloting thing is just a hustle.

[immortalbumblebee]

Chapter 15: Support Beam

Baby Vi? Baby Vi.

Masterlist

“And you’re sure you can’t stay for some tea, pet?” Babette asked, the older Yordle trotting behind you as you stepped outside. The cold air washed over your exposed face, making you pull your bandana back up, snug over your nose.

Looking down at the woman, no more than three feet tall, you smiled at her behind the mask. “Sorry Ma’am, not this time.”

She smiles back at you, the lines on her face crinkling, showing the woman’s age (a feat, accounting for Yordles’ ability to live for centuries). “Well then, you be safe and try to stay warm tonight, alright? Don’t need you catching a cold, and tell those boys of yours I send my love!” Allowing her a motherly kiss on the cheek, you bid her one final farewell before turning and continuing on your way.

You embraced the feeling of falling into the crowd, a face among many as merchants called out to possible buyers. There were a few looming figures up above on the catwalks too, bridges merging sections of different levels along the chasm, highlighting Zaun’s disordered, haphazard engineering and architecture. You tried not to linger on those looming figures though, you’d learned long ago that people who tended to linger out in the open in the Underground were rarely the type of people you cared to associate with outside of business. Instead, you turned to the paper that Benzo had handed to you this morning, a list of names written in his messy script.

“Narco and Skye…” You mused. “Wonder what they wanted to talk about.”

Rounds had started a while back, maybe about two or three years or so. A particularly bad round of enforcer raids had left some of the businesses in shambles and the people worried, so your small group of four had rallied up and organized a sort of club, one could call it? A group of people who all took turns taking a night to walk along the streets of the fissures (always armed), taking note of anything that could be an issue; enforcers sniffing around where they shouldn’t, reporting bodies washing up in the sewer pipes, helping any drunken idiots home, that sort of thing. But over time it also adapted to be a sort of…check-in with people? Someone could call on the apartment and say they wanted to talk with people about the revolution if it wasn’t an emergency, then someone would drop by and hear them out. It was honestly a great way to stay in tune with the people you were fighting with/for, a way to keep on the Undercity’s pulse, and even get new information on jobs or stuff happening across the river.

Just sucked that it was an all-night investment. But hey, not like you maintained a regular sleep schedule on a normal day.

You tucked your hands in your pockets as you continue your walk through the street, scanning your surroundings and smiling to the merchants and customers that you knew. A few times you noted some of the more shadowy sellers eyeing you from their booths; individuals selling live animals, “exotic” goods from the Shadow Isles or Freljord, and possibly even a booth selling what you’re pretty sure were hard drugs. If it exists, you can sell it in Zaun, right? You heard Benzo’s chastising voice in your head telling you to mind your business, so you turned the other way.

Not long after, you arrive at a simple metal apartment building; like thousands of others all over the Underground. It’s thin, carefully slotted in between two much thicker buildings as if it was an afterthought, filling in an alleyway with a cramped structure of silver and broken windows. As you’re about to walk in through the building’s front door, however, there’s the sound of a window opening and the loud screaming of a toddler.

“What the…” You look up to find a round, grinning face staring down at you, a little three-year-old girl happily calling to you from three stories up as she waves with both hands.

“Minny! Minny!” Young Violet calls, and you can’t help but laugh a little at the sight. “I’m up here!” Bright pink hair sat atop her hair, sticking out at every odd angle, matching her soft pink night dress.

“Yes, I see that Violet.” You smile and nod. “Please be careful, you don’t want to fall from all the way up there, right?”

“I…” She pauses, in the way that young children do mid-sentence, then continues to giggle “I won’t!”

“I’m going to walk up and come to your door, okay?” You ask, motioning to the door. “Be there when I knock?”

“Yeah!”

And sure enough, just as you knocked on the heavy wooden door of the family apartment, you could hear her shouting from the other side. It only took a moment for Narco to answer the door, emerging with Violet popped on his hip. He had obviously just gotten home from work himself, still partially clad in his factory coveralls with the sleeves tied around his waist, chest covered by a stained grey t-shirt. His violent red hair stuck up at any angle it saw fit, just like his daughter’s, and his eyes showed clear signs of exhaustion, but his smile was still easy and warming.

“Minny!” The young girl screamed! Atop her father’s hip, she now carried a stuffed rabbit and was contently sucking on one of the ears.

“Min, good seeing you!” Narco ushered you in, closing the door behind you. He has a kind voice, low in timbre with a slight rasp you’ve come to associate with those who’ve worked in the mines. “’m sorry for the mess, with both of us still working, and now with Violet…”

“Hey, you don’t need to explain anything to me.” You laugh, lowering your bandana. “You’ve seen our apartment, right? Hardly ones to judge.”

He chuckled at that, putting Violet down gently. “Ha, fair enough. What do we say to our guest, Sweetheart?”

Violet happily grabbed you by the hand and started leading you toward the seating area. Although “seating area” may be misleading, as the whole entirety of the apartment was maybe twice the area space of Jericho’s booth if that. A small couch was pushed off to the corner, placed among stacks of books and various baby toys, with a fridge and oven (that looked to be broken) right next to it as a ‘kitchen’. A bedroom, that is, a double mattress with a second-hand crib was blocked off with a curtain on the other side of the apartment, and then a little washroom walled off, although missing its door. But even with the crampedness, the three of them made it feel homey. The baby toys, dirty dishes, and clothes that Skye was working on made the home feel lived-in, along with various bits and pieces you assumed were parts of Narco’s diy projects.

“Make yourself at home!” The small child spoke enthusiastically, plopping down on the couch, and dragging you beside her.

“Why thank you, Lass.” You smiled, ruffling her hair. Violet’s bright pink hair, similar to Narco’s when he was younger, was long and tattered, and you recalled Skye’s ranting about how impossible it was for her to try and cut. The little girl apparently wanted to grow it out long, and was dead-set on the idea, despite her constantly getting it knotted and matted with all the running around she does.

“She’s just on her way to bed.” Narco smiled adoringly at his daughter’s beaming face as he locked the door and joined you. “Lil one wouldn’t tuck in before saying hello to you first, though.”

“And Skye?” You ask.

“Held up at work.” Narco rolled his eyes, you could read the irritation loud and clear although he refused to say anything. “She’d be here if she could.”

“Give her my love when she gets back.” You nod, then turn back to Violet as she calls your name.

“Minny! Do the thing! Do the thing!” She’s yanking at your arm, and you laugh.

“What thing?”

“The thing with the metal!” She waves her hands in the air, making a little ‘oooo’ sound to emphasize her point.

“Oh, you mean this thing?” Beckoning with one of your fingers, a couple spare screws fly off from a nearby shelf and begin swirling around Violet’s head. She screams in delight, immediately beginning to grab at them, trying to catch them as they fly up and around her little head, but every time she does they fly out just out of her grasp.

“First time you did that she didn’t shut up about it for a week.” Narco recollected. “Kept yammering me to do it for her instead. You ever consider going into children’s entertainment, rather than metalworking?”

You snorted at this, finger swirling in a circular motion. “Pretty sure I’d be paid less than I already am, thanks.”

“Fair point.” The man shrugged with a smile.

“You’re turning four soon, aren’t you Violet?” You asked. “Next month if I’m remembering right.”

She hums a ‘yes’ but is still trying to catch the screws. “Then I’ll be almost as old as you, Minny!”

“Oh, I highly doubt that, Lass.” You laugh and make one of the screws gently poke her on the nose, which she seems to find downright delightful. “You make any new friends lately?”

“Not really.” She says, non-committally.

“She spends time with some of the other young ones at Mrs. Ayda’s when Skye and I are working,” Narco explains. “But other than that…we hate to say that we aren’t exactly married to the idea of her going out and playing on her own. I know it’s how we were raised, and she needs friends her own age, but…”

“Don’t worry, I get it.” You nod. “Niya has a niece who’s a little older than you, Violet. I can see if she’d be okay with coming over and playing with you a little. Would that be okay?”

“Okay.” The child doesn’t seem to care one way or the other. It’s sweet, to see the innocence, but also tugs at your heart a little.

“Alright, sweetheart. It’s time for bed.” Narco groans as he stands up, and you promptly put the screws away. The young girl begins to shout in protest, but it doesn’t last long before her father convinces her to give you a giant hug goodnight and toddle off to bed. He returns to the living room shortly, greeting you again with a tired smile. “Apologies if we’re taking up too much of your time.”

“Being able to see you guys is always worth it.” You reassure him. “Besides, I still have lots of time for my other check-ins.”

“Lots tonight?” He asks, pouring himself a cup of coffee from a pot. He wordlessly offers you one as well, which you accept.

“Nah, but we have a trader exchange a couple hours before sunrise.” You explain. “I’m running security, making sure no enforcers get too close, you know the jist.”

“Yeah…I really gotta get on doing more rounds.” As he sits down on the couch, he lifts his large round glasses to massage the bridge of his nose. There, sitting across from you holding his cup of coffee, and seeing the way his shoulders sag, you take in just how exhausted this man looks. As you exchange some small talk, discussing some of the regular inner workings of your city, you study him. Bloodshot eyes blend right in with his fiery hair tones, and his normally clean-shaven chin’s scraggly with steadily growing facial hair. The way he tenses his shoulders, and the slight groan whenever he moves his torso, you’re wondering when was the last time Narco had had a night off. Hesitantly, you lean forward, letting your arms prop up against your thighs.

“You doing okay, mate?”

“Me? I’m fine.” He waves you away. “Fatherhood and work keeping me busy is all.”

Your eyes furrow. “You been sleeping lately?” His only response is a low chuckle as he takes a sip of his coffee, and it’s the only response you need.

“Narco-” “I appreciate the concern Min, truly. But rest assured, I get enough lectures from my wife.” His words aren’t harsh, no sense of irritation,, just…resigned. You feel the need to push the issue, but ultimately nod your head in silent understanding.

“Vander’s got a midnight shift tonight ‘till sunrise, but then he’ll be home until the fights tomorrow night.” You consider. “If you drop off the little lass before then, he’ll be happy to watch her. I’ve got work until three, but then I can come home and watch her during the fights. She’ll be fed proper, and we can send her home with some hot meals. You take the day to rest, right?”

He smiles, fatherly. He’s got too many wrinkles on his face for a man just a couple years your elder. “We’re not in the business of taking handouts, Min. You know that.”

“Then what sort of jobs you got lined up? I know you’re one of Benzo’s main tip-offs from the docks, you let us in for, say, 35-55 depending on the shipment and we’ll call it square. Just, y’know, don’t fuck us this time? Don’t think we’ve forgotten about that Noxian guard mishap.”

He hesitates, taking a long sip from his drink while he thinks. But then he puts his mug down and reaches into his back pocket. “I did tell Benzo about the guards. But besides that…how’s a merchant vessel of Freljordian meats sound?”

A small smile graces your lips. “Sounds to me like we’ve got a deal, Pops.”

***

“-I was sailing just the other day,”

The crunch of pavement under your boot lines your words. Around you, the sounds of waves wash up and over the promenade’s shores. The bridge is up, as to discourage your kind from crossing, the lights of Piltover dancing across the way, and just a couple blocks away there’s a group of traders handing off about 30 hexes worth of supplies to Benzo and his coworkers.

“Out beyond Bilgewater Bay,”

Something between an old sailor's song and a prayer you remember from the pubs of your hometown. Although you know the importance of security detail, your mind is across the ocean, picturing a different life of crime out on the open seas. Akin to the tales of your mother’s past. But then, the sound of more footsteps on the pavement catches your attention.

“When, from the depths, she came my way,”

You’re whispering now, ducking in behind a nearby plate of wooden crates as you keep your ears open. The footsteps are getting louder now, approaching you at a slow, thoughtless pace. You hook your hand behind you, grasping the hilt of your knife.

“the Wing-Eared Sunken Lady…”

A familiar magical hum hits you as the person approaches, a metallic thrum that strikes your mind. It’s a frequency you know well, but can’t quite place.

“She swallowed me whole, me skiff and me soul,”

He crosses you, headed straight into the direction of the trade, and you don’t even need to think twice upon seeing the blue of his uniform before plunging your knife into his thigh.

Slowed down and taken by surprise, the Enforcer lets out a welp of pain and reaches for his baton, but you don’t give him the chance to react before you’re kneeing him in the kidney. He topples to the ground, and you wank out your knife, clutching its hilt in your hand as you deliver one more strike to his temple with the pummel. His body relaxes, unconscious.

“So I'm singin' this song in her belly,”

Not a moment passes before you’re using your bandana to apply pressure to the wound. The bleeding stops after a matter of minutes, and you tie the fabric in a tight knot just above the spot, just to be sure.

“And now I must wait 'til I meet my fate,”

You leave him by the entrance of the bridge, trapped with his own cuffs but in plain sight. It’s almost sunlight, the traders will be gone in a matter of minutes and the bridge will lower. He’ll be found within the half-hour.

So you walk away, using a quick swipe of your fingers to sheath your dagger back into place.

“In the Wing-Eared Sunken Lady..."

Taglist (if you want on or off of this please just DM me)

@the-lake-is-calling @conretewings​ @officialjellydoughnut @ladyoakenshield​ @lovesleepybearwriter @pinkrose1422 @pinkheartfleece