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mindwideopen · 4 years

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Bert.... is mad.

Look at bert’s head! It’s about to explode with fury. He’s soooo mad! Oh no.... Bert, will have..... your.... ass..... No. because Bert would never do that. Bert is a loving guy, but he’s reached his limit, as a lot of us do from time to time. Bert gave Ernie ALL of his power. He allowed ernies antics to affect him negatively. What Ernie did? Who knows. Probably swindled Bert out of the bigger piece of pizza, and more grape drink. He does that a lot...

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Or maybe he drank all Bert’s ice cream soda when all he wanted was plain seltzer,

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or he probably annoyed Bert by playing tag with him, when he was trying to read.

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Ernie is a bit inconsiderate like that, or, Ernie is needy, and wants attention from Bert, and Bert is into his own thing, Either way, Ernie doesn’t mean to act like a mindless, thoughtless Turkey culo. He wants love, like we all do. Unfortunately, it’s coming off really inconsideratly. Sometimes, when it’s not you that’s the one being annoyed, it can be hilarious. But let’s put ourselves in each of their positions for a minute...

Bert, does NOT look happy. He looks mad, yes, but also, hurt, upset, not appreciated, not understood, not cared for. Bert, is a perpetual victim of Ernie’s naughty business. Bert can also tend to like things the way he likes them. Kinda an immobile, guy. Maybe a guy that takes himself too seriously, too sensitive, with no sense of humor. BUT, regardless, Bert deserves love, and respect, and consideration even though Ernie doesn’t always show it in the way Bert appreciates. Does that mean Ernie doesn’t love Bert? Not sure. Are they in a serious codependent relationship of abuse? Could be. Or are they in a mutual friendship that somehow works for the both of them? It all depends on your perception.

Let’s take in Ernie for a bit. Ernie, is a purveyor of glad tidings, fun and joy. On the flip side, Ernie has a ton of energy, and doesn’t flow outside of his own desires in the moment very well. Some would say, “Ohhhh... That Ernie... all he cares about is fun, and play, and singing, and dancing, and his rubber ducky, and he’s messy, and carefree, and doesn’t listen to Bert at all. What an Turkey culo!! But Ernie does care about how he, and others like Bert, feel. And he wants to break Bert out of his comfort zone, and have a little fun with his best friend. How you view them, is irrelevant to them, but means everything to you. Because they are not affected by you in the least. They’re muppets. But the energy that they bring up in you, is very very real.

Ernie and Bert are facets of these 2 men: Jim Henson, who played Ernie, and Frank Oz, who still maybe I dunno, periodically plays Bert. But, they created these characters. And they evolved over time, both the characters, and the men.

I heard an interview where frank oz was discussing the character of Bert. At first, bert was a conundrum. He was boring. But frank oz, in his genius, made boring, fun! Well, Bert may be boring, but he loves it! He is the single most boring guy in the world, and loves what he loves; bottle caps, and pigeons named Bernice, and paper clips, and plain soda water. Bert celebrates his boringness to the hilt! I used to not get Bert at all when I was a kid. Bert?! You’re into boring....everything! But now that I’m older, I finally appreciate Bert, and his love of the mundane, cause he’s so into it. And frank and Jim, got it too, and they shared it with me, and all the other kids my age and beyond. Celebrate people not just for their similarities, but their differences too. And if you don’t celebrate their differences, at the very least accept the person, and love them anyway.

Ernie gives Bert a serious headache. So he cares for him, and makes sure he has his hot water bottle (still not quite sure what that does...) But no one can say Ernie doesn’t care, or they can, but they’d be wrong to me, because Ernie, in his own selfish jerk way to some, cares a lot. And I sometimes appreciate him for it. Bert resigns himself to it a lot too, cause after all, both of these characters come from a place of love, and devotion to one another.

But regardless of what I think of either, and much like gayle king of I dunno, and Oprah Winfrey, a Winfrey, they’re best friends. And isn’t it better to be friends, then not? Well, don’t ask me, cause I have none...

George Carlin: Kari, you, are seriously, one of the most ridiculous people I have ever not met personally. You have friends, you just walk away from everyone cause they don’t show up for you the way you’d like. I only know that, because you’re writing me, so I have an insight others don’t, because you cut everyone out. At least with Ernie and Bert, Bert gets pissed, and Ernie knows about it.

Bert in the year 2020: It’s been 50 plus years of ernie’s crazy behavior, and I feel the following: n for numb, b for beaten down, a for aggravated, and n again, for no more...

Ernie in the year 2020: bert, how many times do we have to go through this, Bert? I love you like a brother and friend, and I never want to upset you, ever, Bert. You’re special to me. I’ve learned that over time. You’re my best buddy, Bert! Just like rubber ducky, only you do all the shopping, and cleaning, and the dishes and laundry.

Bert: Er——niiie! That’s exactly what I’m talking about! You are not responsible for anything! We are both 7, 8, 9 or 10 years old! When are you going to chip in and do your share in this friendship?! All you do is give me grief, Ernie! Grief!

Oscar the grouch: sounds like my kind of guy!!!

Bert: um, youve known him for 50 plus years!

Oscar: well, I didn’t know that about him! I love hate it!

Bert: ok, anyway, Ernie, if you keep doing the same things that make me angry over and over again, how is that changing? I don’t trust you, or believe you. Your words do not match your actions. Aaaagh! I don’t know what to think...

Mr. hooper: maybe I can help. You see boys, this is a classic case of the bullshit that I don’t have to deal with anymore because I am dead.

Bert: um, mr. hooper, you’re not allowed to talk like that on Sesame Street. I’m only 10 years old and I live alone with Ernie, unsupervised, which is bad enough. I don’t think we’re supposed to hear such talk.

Mr. hooper: We’re not on Sesame Street right now, we’re in Kari’s blog, so it’s fine, cause she’s the one swearing, not me, as I, am dead, as I/she stated above. Alight, boys, what I’m trying to say is this; can you please, for once and for all, be more considerate of one another’s feelings and maybe just maybe get back to the love? I’m over all this bickering.

Ernie: yeah Bert, I was trying to tell you that...

Bert: yeah Ernie, but at some point you have to back up your words with the proper actions. How many times have I told you that?! And you ignore me!

The count von count: 7 zillion, 345 trillion, 8 million, 32 times Bert has told you, Ernie, about that! Ah ah ahhhhhhh! (Lightening strikes)

Ernie: you’ve got a point there, Bert. Ok, I’ll show you, by giving you, the bigger piece of pizza once and awhile, and leaving your seltzer, plain, and allowing you to read in peace. Cause I support you bert, and I care.

Bert: that’s great Ernie! I do too! And I’ll make time to play tag with you more, and spend time the way we like to do, together.

Mr. hooper: word(s).

Scene.

George Carlin: Kari, did you her all that?

Kari: yes. Oh man. I’ve been read by Ernie and Bert. Ok, my intention for writing on my blog is not to hurt anyone at all with my POV, but to be honest about my feelings, in love. I try not to be a mean passive aggressive person. I sometimes can be, but I’m trying to clean up my side of the street with that. And I do feel like I am friendless, but it’s because I’m hurt, and don’t feel loved or appreciated sometimes. That’s what it all comes down to, really.

Carlin: ok, clearly you need some time to sort this out. So I’ll leave us with this. I love you. You are a very kind, imaginative woman, who cares about people. I will allow you to sit in hurt as long as you need to. Just know that anytime you’re ready to join the world again, I’ll be there to support you. Some of these people are gone for good, and that’s ok, but some still care, and may want to work it out when the time comes. You’ll see when you’re ready.

Kari: thanks George. I love you too. And I will go and get a piece of almond Kringle now, cause I love O & H kringles (1) a lot, and give you the bigger piece!

Carlin: gee, thanks, as you will be the one ingesting it for the both of us. Better make it a sliver.

Kari: ok.

Scene.

Carlin: oh, and Kari, one more thing...

Kari: what?

Carlin: friends are better, when shared. And by cutting people out, you’re not sharing you. Just sayin...

Kari: no Kringle for you!

Carlin: fine. I’ll keep our girlish figure in tact...

Kari: fine! The whole Kringle for you!

Carlin: she’s maaaaddd...

Cookie Monster: this has been monster-piece theater... good bye! Me eat all the Kringle now, then all her cookies, cause she upset, and she won’t eat anything, so it no go to waste! I love her, so I help!

Kari: I ate ALL the Kringle!

Cookie Monster: noooooooooooo...... (shakes furry blue paw in the air)

Scene scene scene.

(1):,credit for my discovery of the o & h bakery and the Kringle itself goes to my friend Bonnie, who i believe now hates my guts. ❤️

#sesame street #Ernie #Bert #Cookie Monster #jim henson #frank oz #loveyourself #lovematters #relationships #relationship #talkin to myself #talk it out #no #oh no #self reflection #selfawareness #mind wide open #kari keillor #Youtube

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rallis-fatalis · 6 years

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A Simple Question

Amnesia is a hard thing to deal with. You lose part of yourself with it and are never truly the same when you try to put the pieces of memory back together. But what no one ever speaks about is how hard it is when what is forgotten does come back, how hard it is when you chase after what's missing and actually find something. When asked a question even the youngest child should be able to answer, Rallis investigates why she doesn't seem to know the answer and begins to unravel something she wasn't ready for.

"When is your birthday?"

Such a simple question and yet Rallis had no idea how to answer it. Dragons didn't really celebrate that sort of thing. "I don't really know."

"Do you know how old you are then?"

An even simpler question, and yet she was alarmed that she did not have the answer. "No... no I guess I don't."

That simple question is what led her to Lunar Isle once more. Rallis always liked the place. It was pretty, it was a cold she could actually handle, and the people were wonderful too. She had gone on a few adventures on the little island, and in one of them she remembered something that could help her answer that question. She was familiar with the routine of entering a dream by now, having done it multiple times with multiple people. She drank the potion and burned the pyre and soon found herself asleep on the floor of the Dream Hall.

Rallis came to in the familiar pastel dream world, only it wasn't laid out quite like before. She supposed it didn't matter. She was only here for...

"The book! Good, it's still here!"

When Rallis had first entered a waking dream, the way to awaken was through reading a book that sat upon a pedestal. Supposedly it held every memory of the person it was written on, including things they might have forgotten. She woke up immediately the first time she tried to read it, only getting to read the title before waking up on the Dream Hall floor, and she hadn't ever tried to read it again. Not until today.

"Please don't let me wake up yet. I need to read this."

Now that she wasn't running around doing trials for some ethereal alter ego, she managed to get a good look at the book. It looked so broken. The covers were huge and the spine wide, as if they were meant to hold thousands of pages. But between the two covers, there was hardly anything at all. The front cover dipped down, sliding off the book as there weren't enough pages to hold it in place. Rallis opened the book carefully, spine creaking in old age. Leftovers of the missing pages were wedged into the spine, little wordless leaflets showing that something was there but now torn out. On the first page with words, it began with her memories of her adoptive mother in Taverley Dungeon. There was nothing else before then. She flipped through the book to find tales of her adventures and thoughts and actions and everything that had happened over the years since then. Comparatively, it really only did fill a minuscule section of the book. Rallis held her fingers together in a mock measurement and stacked the invisible length on top of each other as she held the front cover up where it would have gone. Five invisible lengths and it was nowhere near the cover. Ten, twenty, thirty, it just kept going. She lost count and gave up. There was a lot missing, that's all she knew. Rallis sighed and closed the book, leaving the dream world and waking up in the Hall. As she was about to huff and run home, an idea struck her and she sprinted to the astral altar to ask a friend something.

"Lady Celeste? I have a question," Rallis asked as she saw her friend, no usual greetings and formalities.

The Oneiromancer floated away from the astral altar and came closer. The dragon seemed like she was in a hurry, she wouldn't scold her on her lack of manners this time. "Of course. What is it?"

"Do you know of the book in the dreamscape? The one about your life?" Rallis asked. The woman nodded. "It's supposed to tell your life story, which would also mean it could tell you how old you are, right? Well mine doesn't. It barely says anything! It's all messed up!" Rallis explained what she saw and with the woman's power to read minds it wasn't difficult to get the picture.

The oneiromancer hummed thoughtfully. "That's odd," she said. "You've so much missing. Some people can have a few pages or chapters missing, but most of your entire book is gone."

"What does that mean?" Rallis asked worriedly.

"It means you've already had a great adventure, but something has willed you forget it," she replied. "This doesn't seem a simple case of amnesia either. You want to know how much time that is. I couldn't give you an exact time, but judging by how much is present and missing there, well quite frankly that's hundreds of years missing."

Everything went silent and still. Even the icy wind stopped blowing. Then Rallis burst out laughing. "Hundreds of years?" she questioned between giggles. "No offense my lady but there's no way I'm hundreds of years old. I don't know a lot but I feel like I would know that."

The woman frowned. "Well, that's what your book says and it doesn't lie. Besides, I do believe age has no meaning to dragons, isn't that right?" Rallis scowled at the logic. It was true that time was never the cause of a dragon's demise, Shakorexis was a perfect example of that, but there was no way she was that old.

"It's not definitive proof," Celeste added hastily. "But it leads to a plausible conclusion. You might be older than you think."

Rallis shook her head. "I don't know..." She bowed her head. "Thanks for the help though." And with that, she ran off.

Rallis paced in the snow away from town and prying eyes and thought. She tried to think of what other information she had to solve this conundrum. What did she know about her time before Taverley? Any time she tried to think about her past, it was blank nothingness. But lately if she tried to think back, it wasn't so blank. Things had been happening after her incident with Zorgoth and Galvek, things she couldn't explain. Flashes of experiences, quick snippets fast as a lightning strike, foreign to her but also unnervingly familiar would sometimes appear in the emptiness. She could never latch onto them, never investigate their meaning, but they all felt like the same thing: 'the past.' She didn't know how she knew, but that feeling was always there. Something existed before her time in Taverley Dungeon, she just didn't know what.

She paced and paced, drawing a circle in the snow from all her walking, and then it dawned on her, something Zorgoth had said in the Lithkren Vault. When the monster deigned to acknowledge her for the first time, when she learned she was what they called a failure, a 'vorkath,' he said something that stuck with her.

"You don't look like one of mine, but I've made so many and forgotten just as much, I wouldn't even know. You do look familiar though."

"'You don't look like one of mine, but you do look familiar.' If I am one of his, or even if I'm not and he knew whose I was, then..." She thought about it. When did the dragonkin start experimenting? It was at least an age ago, maybe more. If she was one of Zorgoth's creations, it would have to have been before he got stuck in the Vault. And that was... "Over a thousand years ago. No, that can't be right. That can't!" She sat down in the snow, dizzy from thinking and walking in circles. She hid her face in her arms as she sat scrunched on the ground. "That can't be right. I might not be one of his. But then whose would I be?"

She whined and shook her head, trying to beg her now racing thoughts to be quiet. All those flashes and snippets of memories of the past raced by at once, Zorgoth's mocking voice echoing as they ran by. Rallis grit her teeth from the growing headache and tried not to panic from everything in her head spinning around like a tornado. It wasn't stopping, it was going faster, her thoughts were racing by like a blur and making her sick. She dunked her face in the snow by her feet and the shock of cold helped clear her head, the thousands of voices and pictures flashing through her mind finally standing still and allowing her to think. She pulled her face out of the snow and curled up on the cold pile of fluff with a sniffle. She covered her face as she started to cry at it all.

This wasn't a case of not knowing a number anymore. This was so much more. She hadn't realized just how much of her life was missing. She hoped perhaps all she had forgotten were her parents, where she grew up, and other such simple things like that. But now? It was like she was realizing for the first time that she was trying to build a thousand piece puzzle and only had a handful of miscellaneous pieces and not even a picture to go off of. So much was gone and it was too much to process at once. She wasn't even sure she knew who she was anymore. She sniffled and curled in on herself.

"Just how much of myself am I missing?"

#my writes #oc tag #osrs #runescape

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get-a-new-lease-on-life · 6 years

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A New Lease on Life - #51

51: Secrets, Solutions, Certainty

Hey, Y'all! Long time, no see...again...ahem. Updates have been slowing down for a while and I'm incredibly sorry for it; it just seems like it's going to be going a while longer no matter how irritating it is. TBH, lately Real Life has been about 97% in the crapper and the remaining 3% has been spent hiding from the Flying Crap Fairy because sh*t's STILL hitting the fan. Oy. Seriously, we really need some Flying Crap Fairy repellent because we're apparently good targets. :\ Anyway, I won't bore y'all with details on this latest disaster, but Cold and I are both very lucky to even be alive right now, along with several of our closest neighbors. We came very farking close to NOT being alive anymore recently and, although Cold's shrugged it off with his usual attitude, I've been an absolute mess of nerves. I just haven't had either time or drive to sit down and write lately but hopefully things will ease up soon. (If for some weird reason you want a better explanation, no worries, just PM me on FFnet or one of my usual accounts and I'll fill ya in, no worries. Misery loves company, but Anxiety's even clingier...and no, I do not plan on including this scare in a Blocked installment.)

Anyhoo, a word of warning: this story has, from the start, been an awkward mishmash of the Bay movies universe and a few other 'verses, but as of this chapter, that mish-mash becomes heavier with 'other -verse' than previously. Specifically, we're going to be seeing a lot from the '03 series, but you don't need a good understanding of that series to follow the plot. Not everything's going to be exactly as per that canon because I'm altering some things to better fit the Bay-verse canon. Either way, I hope you'll enjoy, and hope to hear from y'all soon!

Suggested Listening: The Goo Goo Dolls "Iris," Red "Best is Yet to Come," Ashes Remain "On My Own"

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51: Secrets, Solutions, Certainty

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November 10th, afternoon

Somewhere along the line, Donatello miscalculated; where or when that miscalculation was, he had no earthly idea. All he knew for certain was this: against all odds, the most unlikely of sources brought answers to the conundrum of Amber's strange dreams of home. How this happened, the genius still wasn't sure—his head was still spinning from the unexpected admission from his father and sensei and that was hours ago.

"This…this makes no sense," Donnie muttered digging his fingertips into the bridge of his snout as though warding off a headache. "Amber's having prophetic dreams of her home world…because you saw her past?"

"That's the best explanation I can find," Splinter sighed. "Ordinarily, there should be no lasting effects, harmful or otherwise. Because she is from another reality than our own, the shared meditation technique I used may have inadvertently opened a psychic door to the world she left behind—a door she regrettably is unable to close under her own volition."

"This is insane." Donnie scoffed, his hands dropping to dangle off of his knees. At the time, he was too focused on getting answers to ask how his father could get those answers. Now… "Where did you even hear about that technique, anyway?" he asked. "It's not in any of your books about the martial arts—I checked. Where did you learn about it?"

Splinter hesitated, dark eyes focused somewhere beyond the cup of tea steaming on his low table. Perhaps…yes, the time was now. "Gather your brothers," he told Donnie calmly, "and the two young ladies as well. I hoped to put this off a little longer, but it appears the time has come."

Splinter's life began as a simple lab rat—his future should have been set in stone. Instead, he was freed, mutated, and left to fend for the four young turtles who endured the same testing he did. Every new parent faces struggles, but most will have some semblance of assistance, somewhere to turn when they needed help or advice. Splinter had no such thing…at least not to start with. That eventual assistance, while gravely needed, was something he was never sure how to explain to his boys. Now, he had no choice but to explain and hope they could understand his reasons for keeping it secret.

"You all know my training in Ninjitsu began with the discovery of a book," the aged rat related to the four mutants and two humans crowded around his bedroom. "There is, however, more to the story that I have not told you." As he spoke, he collected the book in question from his shelves and opened it to the very first page, where a cryptic inscription was scribbled in roughly-scrawled Japanese. "The book only provided the barest of essentials in ninjitsu training—one cannot learn something as complex as a martial arts discipline through the written word alone. This inscription contains coded instructions…directions on how to open a portal to another realm commonly called the Battle Nexus."

"The what now?" Leonardo shook his head in denial. "You—" Splinter shot him a stern glance, and he fell silent again.

"The Battle Nexus is a world meant to be accessed by those studying the ancient martial arts," Splinter continued seriously. "The book revealed the basics central to most martial arts disciplines then decoding the inscription therein revealed the Nexus to me. It was in that other realm that I met a powerful master of Ninjitsu—a man by the name of Hamato Yoshi—and studied under him in hopes of keeping you four safe."

"You studied under a master?" Leo repeated in disbelief. "How have we never met him? Until we met April, we were the only ones who ever found the Lair—how were you able to keep such an important visitor secret from us?"

"Master Yoshi never came to our world," Splinter explained. "I always went to his world for training—the moment you boys fell asleep, I left for an hour or two of training…" Here, he shot Michelangelo a stern frown.

"Oh, this is my part!" Mikey grinned excitedly. "Can I tell'em now? Please? Pleasepleaseplease?" Splinter rolled his eyes.

"Tell us what?" Raphael demanded.

"When we were still kids, I caught Sensei sneakin' out once," Mikey explained without once losing his grin. "I woke up to pee and when I came back to bed, I saw him walking through a glowy hole in the wall and followed him. If I told anyone, he would'a put me in the Hashi. You're lookin' at the youngest Battle Nexus Champion ever, Bruhs! OW!" After Splinter's timely brain-duster, Raph and Donnie exchanged a bewildered glance, struggling to comprehend what they were hearing. Last year, they never would have believed Mikey capable of keeping secrets to save his life, but now they had undeniable proof that he could keep them. The Hardy cousins were a sizable secret alone, but interdimensional travel and their father training with a ninja master from another world? That was pushing it.

"I always intended to tell you, my sons, when you became older," Splinter admitted with a sigh. "I just never could find a way to start that conversation…by the time you were old enough to understand, my Master Yoshi was gone, passed away, and I'd become a master myself."

"This…this is a lot to take in," Leo admitted scratching his head. "It's hard to believe you managed to keep this a secret from us so long."

"My son," Splinter asked with deceptive innocence, "which is more unbelievable: that a grumpy old rat has a few secrets left, or that he could learn everything about Ninjitsu from a book?"

Later that afternoon, everything was settled and a plan was developed, and Donatello was diligently studying the steps to opening an interdimensional portal. While he worked out his end, Amber took care of her own. Almost a year after leaving her world behind, that night, she would be going home… Why did that realization frighten her so much? For the moment, she had no answers.

"Amber?" The greeting startled the brunette from her thoughts and she turned to acknowledge the genius hovering in the kitchen doorway. "What did I miss?" She gave a sheepish smile, tugging nervously at one of the many grey locks streaking her hair—those grey locks were now hidden, disguised with bright blue and soft violet dye courtesy of Mercy's handiwork and Kimber's drink mix stash.

"I'm dead in that world," Amber reminded Donnie as he poured himself a cup of stale coffee and invited himself to the table with her. "That me looked pretty different from how I do now but the resemblance is strong enough people might panic. I need'a avoid notice while we're there, an' the easiest way to be ignored is to look like I don't belong."

"That makes absolutely no sense," Donnie remarked dubiously. "If you stand out, wouldn't you be more noticeable?"

"Not in small towns," Amber shrugged, still absently toying with the stray lock of grape violet hair. "I didn't fit in, remember? Because I didn't fit in, I was mostly ignored until Mum set her church cronies on me. If I look like I'm just another glaikit toonser,~ the locals'll trip over'emselves to ignore me~…it's safer bein' outlandish than ordinary when hidin' in a small town." Donnie tore his eyes away from the violet streaking her hair, a faint blush blooming in his cheeks. He wasn't crazy about the raspberry blue streaks, but she wore his color well…yes, purple looked very nice on his Amber.

"If you think it'll work," he sighed turning to stare down into his coffee, "then I'll trust you. You're used to the small town mentality whereas I've never been out of New York state for long." Silence filled the kitchen—cold, uncomfortable silence full of electricity and fear—until one of them was again driven to fill it.

"I'm…afraid." Amber's admission caught the genius off-guard.

"Master says the portal technique is safe, Honey," he reminded gently. "He's taught me everything he can, I'll be bringing notes just in case, and if we're not back in a week, he'll come for us himself. There's no need to be afraid."

"I'm not worried about the portal malfunctioning," she admitted with an embarrassed cringe. "I…" She faltered, took a steadying breath, then soldiered on ahead. "You don't know what I was like in my last life, Dee," she explained nervously. "You know hardly anything about that me, not even what I looked like…an' I'm not foolish enough to assume you'll make it the entire trip without ever catching a glimpse of that me in some bog-awful photo or something. I'm just not lookin' forward to that happening."

"Does it really matter?" His words were blunt but his eyes softened the blow. "It's not the body that matters, remember? The soul in that body is what's important. I highly doubt your previous appearance could have any negative effect on my affection for you." Amber stared him down over her glasses, seemingly searching for any sign he was bluffing.

"Five-foot-three in shoes," she listed off in a deadpan tone. "Over two hundred pounds. Half-crippled at thirty-five an' on the far side of awkward. Constantly slouching because of fused vertebrae. Always tired. Frequently bitching even in a good mood. My hair was almost entirely grey an' startin' to thin an' my ass was big enough to prop a lamp on. Shall I continue?"

"If you wish," he shrugged. "It makes no difference to me—you've already told me most of this and it doesn't bother me." She finally broke eye contact, her eyes sad.

"There's more, though," she admitted softly. "I told you about Aaron…I told you there was no burn there…but it wasn't always like that." Though the admission worried him at first, Donnie patiently waited for her to fill in the blanks. "Mercy an' I met Aaron when we were in grade school, but we didn't really become friends until high school. I had a massive crush on him for years but never got any sign he felt the same an' eventually let it die out."

Unbidden, her memory reminded her of the day she and Aaron found her home destroyed—reminded her of the frantic way he clung to her as the skies broke open overhead. "The day we came back to find Willsdale in ruins, he kissed me...I thought he was just tryin' to calm me down, but Mercy…" She choked up, shaking her head bitterly. "What Mercy told me today suggests otherwise. If we somehow manage to make it there before he's done'imself harm, I can't guarantee how he'll react to seein' me."

Donatello considered her posture silently a moment, thinking over her confession. "You told me you love him," he reminded solemnly, "as a friend, not as a lover."

"That's correct—he's practically my brother."

"Then you're not worried about how you'll react to seeing him, only that I'll get jealous if he gets too close?" She winced.

"You know, when ya put it like that, it sounds ridiculous," she admitted under her breath.

"That's because it is ridiculous," he teased saluting her with his mug. "Real men don't mind other men coveting their lovers, only their lovers coveting other men."* Amber laughed and gave him a cheeky smile.

"Someone's been readin' Jane Austen, huh?" she teased. "An' here I thought you were more 1984 than Northanger Abbey." Her smile faded somewhat and she turned back to her tea. "I'll be honest with ya, Speccy…I don't see this goin' well. I'm dead in that world—we can't just expect that I'll be able to go back without any repercussions, even for a short time." Donnie studied her silently—from her brightly dyed hair to the faded traces of ink visible peeking up over her modest neckline—intent on burning the moment in his memory.

"You're worried about your loved ones," he reminded gently, "and until you know they're safe, you'll keep worrying about them until it breaks you." She nodded weakly. "I refuse to watch that happen, Amber, not when I can do something to prevent it." He reached out, clasping a supportive hand on her shoulder, and she looked up to meet his eyes over her glasses. "I won't let anything happen to you," the genius swore tucking a raspberry blue lock behind her ear. "Did you call the pizza parlor?" She blinked at him in confusion, but a moment later caught up.

"Yeah," she mumbled back. "I got a week unpaid to take care of my 'family emergency' but they're cuttin' my hours for the rest of the month over it…an' if I'm not there early on my first day back I'm fired. Never thought I'd say it, but my boss is even more of a dobber~ than my Da." She shrugged, torn between a smile and a cringe. "We shouldn't need a whole week—shouldn't even need more'n a few days—but I packed extra just in case." A frustrated sigh in the doorway drew the couple's attention—Mercy hesitated on the threshold, visibly torn. "What's wrong, Merse?" Amber asked the blonde. Mercy fidgeted, mussed her hair, then soldiered forward.

"I'm not goin' with ya." Donnie blinked in surprise.

"We didn't expect ya to," Amber answered her friend slowly. "If—"

"Good," Mercy cut her off brusquely, "as long as we're clear on that. That world's got nothin' left fer me, an' I ain't goin' back." Amber and Donnie exchanged a confused glance, both hoping the other had answers and both disappointed to find they didn't. Recognizing their confusion, Mercy rolled her eyes and stalked over to the fridge to pour herself a glass of iced tea. "Asshat's sulking," she grumbled fishing out a tall glass. "He thinks I'm goin' back an' won't listen when I tell'im I ain't. If y'all have everythin' together, please just get goin' before he demands to go with." Donnie couldn't quite stifle the snort of laughter that burst up his throat, and it earned him a sharp glare from the blonde. "Git."~

"Well," Amber chuckled nervously pushing herself back from the table. "You heard the lady…guess it's time to get a move on, huh? Mind grabbin' the bags?" With a quick peck on the cheek, Donnie ducked out to collect the packed duffle bag and carry-on from his room, leaving Amber and Mercy alone in the kitchen. "I understand yer reasons for not wantin' to go," Amber said softly, "an' I respect them. Is there anythin' you want us to do fer ya while we're there? Anyone ya want checked on?" Mercy avoided her eyes.

"You know the answer to that," the blonde muttered dropping into Donnie's vacated chair. "The only people I ever really had any interaction with were you an' yer family, Aaron, an' my family…an' all that's left of my family's Ma. Anythin' material we were able to save from the ranch is gonna be with her, too, an' I ain't sendin' ya after anything. Better that ya don't have to deal with her."

"Mercy." The blonde looked up, blue eyes wide and nervous, and registered her friend's tired eyes. "It's alright to wonder…it's alright to wanna know she's safe, even after everything she did to you." Mercy grimaced, staring through the table before her.

"That obvious, huh?" she asked with a bitter sneer.

"Only to me," the brunette admitted settling back in her own chair. "I know you too well to not notice, Hon…an' I understand."

Mercy thought hard over her friend's words, distractedly reaching up for the beaded chain around her neck; just as the night Raphael's temper sent her fleeing to the park, she fiddled with the foiled sobriety chip dangling from it. It wasn't the same chip she wore when she and Donatello finally broke down and talked one-to-one—after all, she was well beyond her fourth month sober now, coming up on her ninth. Clarity Ross never even made it nine days without a drink… Denim blue eyes darted down to the metallic red chip in her grasp, contemplating it silently. Her mind made up, she twisted the chip free of the flimsy jump ring it hung from and tossed it to Amber.

"Ma had Ellis buried in the family plot," the blonde stated seriously. "He'd want to know I'm alright…please leave that for'im?" Amber visibly hesitated. "I'll be gettin' another one soon, anyway…I'm nine months sober next Friday." Mercy's lips quirked up in a humorless smile. "If you wanna check on Ma while you're there, I won't argue."

"Are you ready to go?" Donnie's voice in the doorway startled the two women, and, realizing he interrupted them, he gave them a sheepish smile.

"Yeah," Amber answered, then accepted the red foiled chip from Mercy and wrapped her in a tight hug. "I'll get this to'im…'til we're back, I'm countin' on you to keep everyone in line, a'right?" Mercy smirked and gave her friend a confident nod.

The odd family gathered in the hallway to the repurposed Barracks to bid their farewells; only Raphael was absent from the send-off, and Mercy was sure this was no coincidence. Armed with chalk and detailed notes, Donatello carefully scribbled the ceremonial seals on the concrete wall before him, all the while muttering a quickly memorized chant. With the last stroke and the final word, the pasty white lines began glowing with a bright unearthly light then vanished entirely…along with the concrete. A pitch black void yawned before them, not even a speck of light to be seen. He turned to Amber, swallowing down his nerves. "This part's your job," he explained quietly.

"What?" Amber squeaked in surprise, her eyes shooting over to meet Splinter's.

"Ordinarily," the older mutant explained patiently, "this ceremony would open a door directly to the Battle Nexus, but the destination can be altered through focused intent." The brunette turned to Donnie in confusion but he had no answers, so she turned back to Splinter. "Visualize the place you wish to arrive in," Splinter explained with a slight frown. "In your mind's eye, contemplate a location where your arrival will be both safe and unseen, in as much detail as possible." Amber glanced over at Mercy.

"What about the ruins between Aaron's house and your step-dahd's Ranch?" the brunette asked the blonde curiously. "Were they still standin' after the storms?" Mercy nodded in agreement, and Amber turned back to Donnie. "The ruins then—the area's been abandoned since the cabin there burned down—ya never even find any graffiti there, kids're always too scared'a the rumors." With every word, a tiny pinprick of light in the void grew larger and brighter, 'til it seemed like a light at the end of a tunnel. "That's not creepy at all," Amber mumbled edging closer to Donnie.

"Be safe, you two," Leo urged quietly. Donnie and Amber bid their final goodbyes, both worried what they'd find on the other side. With a shared steadying breath, they stepped into the void, following the light to a world apart from their own.

Mercy watched solemnly until their backs vanished into the void, then even longer until the portal in the wall faded back into stained concrete. Long after the others were gone, she still stood there in the hallway, hoping, wondering, and dreading all at once. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go horribly wrong—something about the whole plan to send Amber home to check on their loved ones sent chills down her spine. Eyes focused somewhere beyond the stained concrete wall, she watched, waited, and worried.

Screw this…driving herself up the wall would accomplish nothing. Struggling to clear her mind, the blonde ducked into the barracks to retrieve her boots and a jacket, then stalked out the side door. There was always something to be done in the garden, after all, and not much could clear her mind like yardwork.

In the open doorway to the massive green space the family created from the abandoned Railyard, Mercy paused, eyes locked on a familiar shape crouching beside a bed of freshly transplanted peppers. Raphael…he hadn't heard her, hadn't seen her, and for all intents and purposes, seemed too lost in his own brooding to register her presence. For a moment, she took advantage of her unintentional invisibility—seized it as an opportunity to soak in the sight of him and contemplate her strange and wondrous reactions to seeing him.

Warmth blooming in her stomach—downy fuzz filling her subconscious—sweat-slicked palms and a fluttering pulse—no other man ever drove her so out of her mind that she lost herself at the mere sight of him. Never before had the mere scent of a man's sweat driven her to distraction. Never before had she craved the touch and taste of another the way she craved Raphael. A lifetime ago, she would have let him go, would never have taken a chance on anyone for fear of proving her mother right. In this lifetime, she knew better…in this lifetime she had Raphael and she knew he'd never allow her to be hurt again, not while he still breathed. How did she get so lucky? Over four months had passed since Raphael opened his heart enough to let her in, but still, she didn't have an answer to that question.

Heaven, help me to surrender, she thought silently, eyes locked on the mutant who decided to be a better man for her. Show me mercy an' I'll never ask fer anythin' again.** Before she fell further into reflection, she broke herself loose, grabbed the handles of the rolling mulch bin, and strode confidently toward the mutant ruminating over her peppers. By the time she sank to her knees in the dirt and commenced shoveling out wood chips for the jalapenos, Raph was watching her in mute confusion. She didn't acknowledge him or greet him—when he was ready to talk, he'd do so without her prompting. Sure enough, he soon broke the tense silence.

"When's Donnie an' Amber leavin'?" he asked in a low rumble. Mercy shrugged, methodically heaping mulch around the first plant.

"Ya missed'em," the blonde answered, visibly untroubled. "They're gone—been so about twenty minutes now, I reckon." As she dipped back in for more mulch, Raph studied her seriously, combing through her words for anything that might have been lost in translation. He found nothing…even so, it didn't comfort him any.

"Ya didn't go with'em," the mutant confirmed aloud. "They're goin' back to yer homeworld an' ya didn't go with'em." Denim blue eyes rolled and Mercy shook her head with a long-suffering sigh.

"I told'ja I wasn't goin' with'em," she reminded dryly, but her unaffected expression pinched into a vicious scowl. The plant she was working with had some mild bug damage, from the looks of it, some sort of beetle. "Boris, yer lettin' me down," she grumbled snipping off the damaged foliage. "Start earnin' yer keep or I'm'onna take a can'a Raid after ya, mark my words."~ The massive mutant beside her cringed, well-remembering the huge, hairy wolf spider Mercy named Boris and released into the garden. How he managed to stack up enough bad karma to wind up with a spider-loving woman when he himself fea—er, hated bugs was quite beyond him.

"I don't get it." The grumbled words drew her eyes to his in bemusement. "Dat world's yer home—yer a country gal, Merse, but yer stayin here, in da city…why?" He shook his head with a scoff, quickly riling himself up for a fight. "Ya should'a gone with'em! Ya don't belong here, Kid, ya—" With lightning-fast reflexes, Mercy snatched the trowel out of the mulch bin and whacked him on the shin with it, eliciting a startled shout; the pained bellow was quickly followed by a snarl and scowl as the indignant mutant clutched his stinging shin.

"I told'ja I'm stayin'," she reminded shaking the trowel at him like a scolding finger. "I ain't changin' my mind, not fer all the cows in the world. This's my home now—yer my home now, ya meathead!" Rolling her eyes, she turned back to her task. "Quit tryin'a chase me off before I give ya a reason to want me gone." Raphael stared at her, half stunned, half confused, and entirely speechless; Mercy paid him no mind, instead, falling to grumbling at him under her breath. "I also told'ja they're jus' goin' back to make sure no one's offed'emselves but did'ja listen?~ No, no one ever listens to Mercy!" After a few more grumbled complaints, Raph finally worked up the courage to interrupt.

"Yer sure, Merse?" he asked, hazel eyes sweeping from the frayed knees of her jeans to her messy blonde hair and over every inch between them. "Ya gotta chance to live in da country again—ya could get out'a da city." He shook his head, sinking to his backside on the dirt-strewn concrete and reaching up to dig his fingers into his stiff neck. "If ya stay here, in da city…Babe, I can't give ya everythin' ya deserve, not when we're stuck livin' in da sewers an' subways."

"What exactly is it ya think I deserve?" the blonde demanded, pinning him with her eyes. "Safety? Security? Happiness, love, a reason fer tryin'?"

"All'a dat!" Raph answered flinging one arm wide in exasperation. "All'a dat an'—"~ She cut him off again.

"Ya a'ready gimme all'a that, Raphael,"~ Mercy insisted soberly. "I feel safe with ya—I feel secure in yer home. Ya make me happier'n~ I've ever been, ya gimme a reason to keep tryin' an' keep fightin'…" A faint hint of pink darkened her cheeks and an uncomfortable cringe twisted her naked lips. "As fer love…I love ya, ya love me, an' that's more'n~ I ever thought I'd have. Maybe ya can't gimme cows an' country air more'n once in a while, but yer worth it, ten times over."

Muddy brown darkened the pale skin around his muzzle but he wore a wide, lopsided smirk. Crossing his legs he patted one bulky thigh and when she accepted the invitation his smirk spread into a grin. The peppers, the cows, and the other world were all but forgotten as the two lovers clashed, first at the hips, then at the lips, neither content with being apart.

"I love ya, Raphie," Mercy repeated softly into the crook of his neck, smiling at how his pulse thundered against her lips. "Ain't nothin' gonna change that. Quit waitin' fer me to run off, okay?" A contemplative rumble of acceptance vibrated against her shoulder.

"A'right," Raph accepted soberly, carding his thick fingers through her mussed hair. "I still think ya should go home for a lil' while at least, anyway," he admitted. "Ya got family an' friends dere…it might do ya good ta go back fer a visit, you know, get some closure 'er whateva it is Donnie was talkin' 'bout earlier."

"No." The denial was surprisingly vehement, and he eased her away to study her expression for answers.

"No?" he asked.

"Make that a fuck no," she corrected sourly. "Amber's checkin' on Willis, Raph, an' other'n Willis, the only other person I ever cared about in that world was my Ma…an' there's no way in Hell I'm goin' back to'er again!" The massive mutant said nothing, but Mercy felt that nothing was a rather infuriating way of saying something. "I made that mistake too many times a'ready—I died determined to never go back to'er again!" She winced, reaching up to clutch the ever-present sobriety chip from her necklace, only to recall its absence and let her hand fall uselessly over her knee. "I've finally got the balls to live my own life, Red," she summed up with a weak shrug. "If I go back to'er anyway, I'll have died fer nothin'…an' I can't take that."

Raph considered her words a silent moment, gently petting her messy hair. "I find it hard ta believe ya eva' lacked balls, Kid," he remarked without emphasis. "I gotta feelin' ya had plenty'a will ta fight, jus' like now, but'cha just didn't find nothin' worth fightin' fer."~ A rough, callused fingertip curled under Mercy's pointed chin, urging her to meet the amber eyes a little above hers. "Yer worth fightin' fer," Raph swore leaning down to rest his brow on hers and hold her eyes. "It ain't gotta happen anytime soon, an' ya won't go alone, but someday, ya really need'a face'er again, just ta prove yer stronger'n she is…yer not alone, Sweetheart…ya'll neva be alone again as long's I'm breathin'."

Touched, choking up, Mercy stole his lips in a hungry, wanton kiss, leaning into the scarred palms cupping her jaw and the small of her back. Even as she let her feelings sweep her away and threw herself headlong into the wonder that was Raphael's softer side, she struggled against silent doubt. She'd rather walk barefoot through the hottest depths of Hell than ever see her mother again, but even now, she was held back by the years of abuse she suffered at Clarity's hands. If she never faced Clarity again, never confronted her demons, how could she ever move beyond her fears of intimacy and shame? More so, if she were to face Clarity again, would she emerge stronger than before, or would it entirely break her?

The salty-sweet lips against hers had no answers, and neither did she, but for the moment, she was totally fine with that.

WORDS

~ A "glaikit toonser" – Scottish slang, glaikit– stupid and toonser – someone from the city. (Compare to cliché 'city-slicker' or Southern 'dumbass Yank.') ~ "the locals'll trip over'emselves to ignore me." – 'The local population will do everything in their power to pretend I don't exist, even if it means making asses of themselves.' Not speaking for EVERY small town, but my experience with small towns has taught me the easiest way to be ignored and left alone is to act like an oblivious tourist. This is ESPECIALLY effective in Cold's hometown—all it takes is being surprised by chickens in the road to render you 'a dumbass Yank' to the local populace, who will then avoid you like the plague. ~ Dobber – Scottish slang for fool, stupid person, or dickhead. She's using the latter definition. ~ Git – Midwestern and Southern slang verb, not Brit-slang insult. When used in a sentence it's just an awkward pronunciation of 'get' [pronounced exactly as written] but when it's used on its own, like in this passage, it's an emphatic insistence that someone leave. Pronounced Gyit or GEE-it with the GEE (Soft g as in gift) shortened and bleeding into the less-emphasized –it. The 't' is usually insinuated rather than enunciated, especially in the Midwest. ~ Boris, yer lettin' me down—Start earnin' yer keep or I'm'onna take a can'a Raid after ya, mark my words. – Boris, you're letting me down—Start eating the bugs or I'll spray you with Raid, (bug killer) just you watch me! (Recall that "Boris the Spider" was named for a song by the same name, by, I believe, The Who.) ~ I also told'ja they're jus' goin' back to make sure no one's offed'emselves~ but did'ja listen? – 'I also told you they're just going back (to Amber and Mercy's world) to make sure no one has killed themselves, but did you listen?' This is a direct reference to Amber's dream of Aaron contemplating drowning himself in 'Wilson's Crick.' ~ All'a dat – all'a dat an' [more] – all of that – all of that and more. ~ Ya a'ready gimme all'a that. – You already give me all of that. ~ Happier'n / more'n / other'n – Happier than / more than / other than. All are Midwestern/Southern-isms. First is pronounced like adding urn to happy, the second and third sound somewhat like MORE-un and UTHER-in. ~ I find it hard ta believe ya eva' lacked balls. – I find it hard to believe you ever lacked [the] balls [to do something.] ~ I gotta feelin' ya had plenty'a will ta fight, jus' like now, but'cha just didn't find nothin' worth fightin' fer. Yer worth fightin' fer. – I've got a feeling you had plenty of will to fight, just like now, but you just couldn't find anything worth fighting for. You're worth fighting for. ~ It ain't gotta happen anytime soon, an' ya won't go alone, but someday, ya really need'a face'er again, just ta prove yer stronger'n she is. – It doesn't have to happen anytime soon, and you won't go there alone, but someday, you really need to face your mother again just to prove you're stronger than she is. ~ Yer not alone, Sweetheart…ya'll neva be alone again as long's I'm breathin'. – You're not alone, Sweetheart…you'll never be alone again as long as I'm breathing. [Alive] Verdict: Raph has a mushy side but it takes some digging to reach it. :3

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