#writing off the rails

[whattraintracks]

3. Too Loud - TMNT 2007

Soft Rasey for the soul.

It's night.

It's night, which means he has things to do: crimes to stop, goons to catch, leads to chase, brothers to disappoint.

It's night, he has things to do, but it's too freaking loud to do any of them.

Raph presses his palms harder against the roof's edge and focuses on the bite of jagged asphalt through his gloves. Kicks back and forth to feel the air push against his legs and stares at the ground like the vertigo he got used to a lifetime ago might save him from the pounding in his skull. That erratic pulse of the city, alive and clawing through his brain.

He's seriously considering the merits of melting into the rooftop by the time Casey shows up.

Casey clambers onto the roof all bluster and boisterous joy. He's stealthy when he wants to be, which is conveniently never when Raph is around to make fun of him for lacking it. The familiar gripe builds up in his throat and chokes. It's already so loud, and if he gets them both going, it'll get even louder, and he's really not that worried about stealth, but it hurts.

He lets Casey jostle him into a side hug and rant about work and share the latest gossip from April and Angel as he stares at the ground and pretends that every word out of his mouth is a distraction from the pain instead of another rubber band wrapped around his skull like a swollen watermelon waiting to explode. He doesn't know how Donnie lives with these all the time. He kind of wants to sob.

Casey barks a laugh at his own mediocre joke, and before Raph can think, he's tipping over the knife edge of hurt into anger.

"Shut up!" he hisses. Ugh, he sounds about as pathetic as he feels.

"Dude." And Casey looks about as offended as he sounds. "What is your problem?"

"Nothing," Raph bites out.

Casey reaches out to push him. Raph can already tell it'll be weak, with hardly any power behind it, and how dare he? Raph already feels like shell; Casey could at least fight him like he means it. He snatches Casey's hand, yanking him forward to snarl in his face.

Casey doesn't even fight the hold. He visibly resists the urge to roll his eyes and then. He pauses. His gaze scans back and forth over Raph's face. He lifts a hand close enough to touch, and Raph flinches away without thinking.

"Hey," Casey says steadily, "just me."

He slips his hand behind Raph's head, loosening the knot of his mask until it falls limply around his neck. The pressure release brings relief and another sharp stab of pain. It's everywhere now, and he can't even think straight, it's just—

"You gotta tell me when you're hurting, man," Casey whispers.

A cool hand settles at the base of his skull. The first soothing sensation since he forced himself out of the lair with a pulsing cord of tension between his temples. It takes him a minute to remember what Casey said as he leans back into the hand.

"'M not hurt," he murmurs.

Casey huffs a soft, humorless laugh, but if Raph's eyes weren't closed, he's pretty sure he'd see that stupid smile Casey can't seem to stop looking at him with lately. There's this bubble around them now, suffused with Casey's warm affection in a way that buffers the sounds of the city.

"Come on, let me take you home." Casey tugs on the hand Raph still hasn't let go of.

"Don't wanna go home." He tugs back, hugging the five slim fingers to his plastron. When that doesn't get a reaction, he squints his eyes open to glare.

"Is that"—Casey gestures with his head—"supposed to convince me? You look like a wet cat; that's a wet cat look."

"Oh my gosh, shut up," Raph groans. Ow, even grinning hurts.

"Either you let me take you home, or you're sleeping on my couch."

"Fine."

"Fine, what?" Casey complains, and Raph is really getting tired of being talked at.

He pushes to his feet, dragging a spluttering Casey up with him. The headrush is nearly unbearable, but Casey steadies him without a word.

"You're driving," Raph mutters, tipping forward until his cheek presses against Casey's shoulder.

Tomorrow, when he wakes up on Casey's crappy sofa, melted ice pack slipping to the floor, he'll wonder if he imagined the press of lips to his forehead.

[wonweige]

❝ 20511819 ❞ ✶ cause a princess doesn't cry ! ; not proofread — ignore typos </3 reader (gn!) not mentioned but they were mydei's spouse before death + the little princess looks exactly like them (reader is NOT the little princess)

more little princess content :3 also i feel like i should have a special tag for this 'series' what do you guys think

mydei remembers the first time his little girl cried. not like crying when she was first born, but crying when she saw him, body soaked in blood. it wasn't his, but she was a little girl no older than 4 at the time and didn't really comprehend that.

he remembers her [color] eyes going glossy with tears, pudgy [tone] cheeks going red the same as her nose as her wails rang through her room and even echoing in the halls outside her room. her nanny tried to calm her down, tried to reassure her that her father was fine, but she wouldn't listen.

he remembers kneeling in front of her, taking her small hands into his larger ones. "i'm alright, princess. your daddy's not weak," he had said gently, wiping away her tears, touch gentle like she was made of glass. his heart that day felt like it had been pierced by a thousand blades as he heard her hiccups and sobs.

he remembers how for the rest of the day she had clung to him, following him around like a little duckling and only letting him out of her sight when either she needed to use the restroom or he did. even when he had a meeting to attend or people to deal with, she rested in his arms or clung to his leg, a firm and determined expression on her face.

mydei remembers, and he hopes it never happens again.

[bunnwich]

Devourer👑(Scar!Leona x Yuu) 01

Leona got everything he wanted, except for one thing. After 7 long years of being king, Yuu comes back into his life. As Yuu finds themselves in his nightmare, will they be able to "find " Leona and wake him? Or will they both be devoured?

Characters: Leona Kingscholar x Yuu!Reader (GN. No physical description for Yuu. They/Them pronouns. Yuu majors in alchemy at NRC.)

Words: 5k, 3rd person Notes: A darker AU based on Leona’s Chapter 7 Dream. Part 1 of ??? Not sure if I will continue this AU but it was fun as an exercise to write a bit of more of a darker and sinister Leona for once. LMK if you like this sorta thing?

Parts: Part 1, Part 2

CW: Murder, Slight Dark themes??, Pushing of physical boundaries.

Tagging: I will be tagging in comments!

--

From the moment he took the throne after his brother’s death, whispers filled the kingdom, unease and ridicule trailing him like a shadow. He remained in the heart of the people as a scar of a prince on the divine oligarchy’s legacy. A black stain of spilled ink over the Sunset Savanna’s entire proud history. Once seen as a prince with little promise, he had sat as a king for seven long years now, ruling with an iron fist and a sharp tongue.

The “when” was foggy now, a few months, a year ago? Leona, as they used to know him, had personally recruited them to head an experimental “agricultural development program,” aimed at alleviating the famine gripping the kingdom. Yuu supposed he found out about their internship and majors sometime after they graduated. The years after Night Raven College had been hard and their old school life seemed almost idyllic compared to the world outside. After their friends scattered to the winds to start their own lives, Yuu had been left behind to pick up the pieces of a shattered life. Alchemy, the study of magical plants, was one of the only ways to make them feel competent in a world surrounded by people often more powerful than themself.  They had gotten quite good at it, but it felt surreal to be bestowed such an “honor” from a king after so many years. 

They hadn't seen Leona Kingscholar in nearly a decade after all. --

It was rounding the third hour of a meeting, and the afternoon heat was blistering. Yuu was slumped in their stone chair, mind starting to wander, eyes lulling dangerously closed. After a brief silence, a single voice broke the once-quiet discussion of the royal budget, and their trance.

“Your Highness! We cannot afford to execute this plan! This…aid program to provide outreach to the Outlands.” The council member never even bothered to look over at Yuu themselves. Even when he was implying their very existence at this council was an unwelcome one.

Seated around the oval table, each other council member avoided Leona’s piercing gaze. However, Yuu’s eyes flicked to the man seated next to them. The king was draped lazily across his chair, his expression one of equal parts calculation and boredom.

Oh? Their eyes widened, the elders rarely stood their ground with him.

“Hm? And why not?” Leona’s voice was low and menacing as his emerald eyes narrowed, deep voice cracking through the entire throne room. He was dressed in his standard black dashiki suit, its sleek fabric adorned with shimmering gold accents that seemed to catch the light with his every movement. The suit’s high collar stood proud, a dark canvas for the multiple beaded and gold necklaces that dripped over his chest.

"Your Majesty, diverting even more of our time and resources to the coastal neighborhoods is a mistake.” Councilman Griza, a giraffe beastman, braver than the rest, spoke again, his voice shaking only slightly. “Those…people have shown time and time again they are a threat to the capital. Offering aid will only embolden them, send mixed messages. Especially with how things have been as of late..." His malice made him braver it seemed, his resentment of the outlanders barely concealed.

“How convenient.” Leona sneered, slouching forward. His voice was a slow rumble, dangerous and intentional. “Of course, they’ve been aggressive. Anyone would be if they were historically treated like pests...starved, shunned, discarded.” He stood, palms slapping against the table, his claws scraping the stone discordantly. “They’ve been cornered, can't expect them not to bite.”

Each of his movements was a steady prowl as he circled the long table, his brown sash flowing across his shoulder. The councilman flinched as Leona suddenly stopped behind him, looming like a dark cloud over the man. “I think sometimes you all forget, I know what it’s like to be cast aside. And…to hunger for something denied.” His eyes scanned the table’s occupants and Yuu made sure to look down before he could make eye contact with them. 

They knew their place, as the youngest and arguably least qualified…they tended to keep their mouth shut unless their opinion was asked.

He went on. “...Starve someone long enough, treat them like the dirt beneath your feet, and then when they lash out, suddenly they’re the problem? How noble of you to twist the narrative, Griza.”

Another councilman, Lord Danga, a zebra beastman, cleared his throat nervously. “With all due respect, my King, our resources are already stretched so thin this year. The Sunrise City’s people must come first, our people. Surely you can see that?”

Leona leaned forward, his sharp green eyes locking onto the man, his claws still tapping rhythmically against the back of Griza’s stone chair. “ Oh? Our people?” His voice was low and venomous. “Tell me something…Lord Danga. When you hoarded grain last season for your own settlements and let three nearby jackal villages go hungry, were those not ‘our people’? Or did they suddenly stop counting?” He shrugged.

“I-”

Leona cut him off with a sharp glare. “...And now you all want to sit here and preach to me about where my mercy should begin and end?”

An elephant beastman, emboldened by frustration, stood up. "It’s not about your mercy, Your Majesty. It’s about strategy! Strength! If we appear weak to those in the Outlands, those people will take advantage of us and our generosity as they have been the past few dry seasons!” He slammed his fist on the table.

Leona scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt. “Do you know what really makes a kingdom weak?” He leaned more of his weight against Griza’s chair, the legs scraping loudly across the stone floor, as he suddenly pulled the old man and his seat backwards.

The giraffe beastman in question froze and nobody spoke, even breathed. Yuu found themself barely able to swallow.

“Fear.” Leona hissed.

“Short-sighted, foolish, hypocrites who think power means hoarding everything for themselves.” He spoke slowly, his voice lowering with menace. “You all aren’t protecting this kingdom. You’re choking it.”

Griza stiffened below him, hazel eyes downcasted. Beneath his breath, he muttered something Yuu couldn’t hear. 

“What was that?” Leona’s voice was sharp enough to cut.

“Hmph.” He tried to keep his lip stiff. “I... I only meant that... your father would have-”

“Go on. Finish that sentence…” Leona’s growling tone was dark, and dangerous, and his eyes glowed with a barely restrained fury.

The councilman’s lips quivered openly now, but he remained silent.

“...”

“I see. A lesson needs to be learned.” Leona exhaled sharply, his patience visibly thinning. “I don’t need comparisons, and I certainly don’t need your approval to do what’s right for my people, all of them.”

The room fell silent. Leona’s soft chuckle echoed through the room, cold and mocking. “Weak, huh?” He laid both hands on Griza’s shoulder, digging his claws into his white council member robes.

The man squealed like a stuck pig, trembling under Leona’s hand. There was no escape.

“Let me show you what real weakness looks like.”

Before any of the councilmen or Yuu could react, Leona’s fingers clenched and his knuckles turned white. He muttered a familiar incantation and the man stilled in his grip, before his body seized violently. Sand spilled from Leona’s fingertips, snaking around the old man’s face, frozen in fear as his panicked eyes darted to his peers. 

It was over in seconds, he didn’t even have time to scream. No one did.

“You see,” Leona said, his tone casual as “Griza” crumbled into a lifeless heap of sand in the pulled-out chair. “True weakness is being so afraid of the past that it gets in the way of the progress of the future.” His hand made an exaggerated flourish.

He turned to the remaining council members, clapping the sand from his palms. “You call yourselves leaders, yet you sit here staring at me with your mouths agape…like frightened prey.”

He cleared his throat, sliding his claws through his dark hair casually as he paced back toward his seat. “…The coastal neighborhoods will continue to be eligible in our restoration project through the dry season.”

No one dared speak, except to echo one word.

“Yes…”

Leona nodded with finality. “Good.” He moved toward the throne’s platform, the weight of his authority filling the room as he climbed the steps, taking his rightful seat. “You’re all dismissed.” He waved.

The council members scrambled to bow before filing out, leaving Yuu alone with their new king, too stupid to move. They always heard you shouldn’t run from a predator. 

While Leona stared satisfied at the pile of sand drifting from the empty chair, they forced their weak legs to work again, finally sliding from their seat at the table and retreating toward the throne’s steps. As Yuu stood rigid at the edge of the dais, their hands clasped tightly in front of them, palms sweating as they tried to still the faint tremor that betrayed their nerves. 

The room felt impossibly quiet now, the air heavy with humidity and the unspoken aftermath of what had just transpired. A few feet away lay the remains of what was once Councilman Griza. a man whose leering gaze and oily words had made Yuu’s skin crawl on more than one occasion.

Now, there was nothing left of him but dust.

Their time assisting in infirmaries for their college internship taught them that death usually smelled like something: decay, burning flesh, blood but...here a man lay, as if he had been ripped from existence.

Nothing. 

Yuu couldn’t bring themselves to look away from the dusty remains, though bile churned in their stomach anyway. They should have felt horror. Or grief. Anything other than this cold, detached emptiness and macabre curiosity. But Griza had been a contemptible man, a social-climbing parasite who had delighted in undermining Leona at every opportunity. Was it so wrong not to mourn him?

The silence stretched, broken only by the distant echo of footsteps as the council members continued to flee the room, their fear a tangible presence in the air. Yuu couldn’t blame them.

Their fingers tightened on the fabric of their own white robes, trembling creeping back into their hands. Drawing on every ounce of composure, they dipped into a shallow bow at the steps, the fabric of their clothing brushing against their knees. "Is there... anything else you require of me, Your Majesty?" Yuu finally asked, their voice soft but steady. Their gaze dropped to the floor as they clutched the folds of their robe like a lifeline. 

Heart pounding in their chest, each beat was a sobering reminder that they were still alive...still here, unlike Griza.

Seeing them still there, Leona’s low chuckle rippled through the room, smooth as silk yet sharp enough to cut their composure.

They straightened cautiously, their gaze lifting just in time to see the king rise from his throne. When he moved, it was slow and deliberate, his footsteps echoing against the polished stone floor as he approached them.

"Anything I require?" he drawled, amusement coloring his voice. "How polite of you."

Before Yuu could respond, his clawed fingers curled under their chin, tilting their face upward. The warmth of his touch seared against their skin, forcing them to meet his piercing green gaze. Yuu’s breath hitched, their composure slipping for the briefest moment as his smirk deepened.

"You saw what happened just now," he murmured, his voice deceptively soft, almost a purr. "And this is your response?" His sharp black nail tapped on their chin, thumbing the divot below their bottom lip.

Yuu swallowed hard, trying not to think that this was the same touch that just turned a man to ash. The weight of his scrutiny pressed down on them like a physical force. His eyes searched theirs, sharp and unrelenting, as though he could strip away every carefully constructed defense they’d built. He studied their face like a puzzle he intended to solve, his smirk deepening when his eyes flicked to their hands, still pulling at the fabric of their robes tight.

“Tell me.” he started, leaning closer, the warmth of his palm seeping into their skin, a stark contrast to the cold knot forming in their stomach. "What do you really think?"

Yuu’s pulse thundered in their ears, their mind racing as they searched his face for some trace of the man they once knew. Wishful thinking. His proximity was suffocating, his presence an overwhelming force that left them no room to breathe.

No, this wasn’t the Leona they remembered, the lazy boy who had once scoffed at the pomp and circumstance of royal life.

The man before them now was a king, his sharp edges honed to a deadly point by years of bitterness and isolation. He wore his title like impenetrable armor, his every movement, and word laced with the weight of his new authority.

“I-” They looked up at him.

His hair, once unkempt and free-falling, was slicked back from his forehead, threaded with faint spirals of grey that hadn’t been there in his youth. The heavy makeup around his eyes only deepened the shadows beneath them, giving him a look far older than even his thirty-three years. His gaze seemed to be shadowed with exhaustion that no amount of sleep could cure.

Yuu swallowed hard, their throat dry. They wanted to laugh, to make some cutting remark about personal space or his newly acquired dramatic flair. But those days were long gone. They were no one of consequence to him anymore, just another servant standing before a terrifying king. One who could crush them as easily as he had Griza.

Still, they couldn’t bring themselves to lie outright. They forced a weak, bitter laugh, the sound surprising even them. “Well…sir. I can’t say I ever shed any tears for Councilman Griza," they admitted, their voice quieter than they intended. "And I suppose I'm a little biased on the success of the restoration plan." They shrugged.

Leona’s chuckle was low and rich, sending a shiver down Yuu’s spine. His grip on their chin loosened, his hand falling away only to settle on their shoulder, still leaving char marks on their jaw. His claws lightly grazed the fabric of their clothing as he prodded them toward the throne.

"No one would," he said, his tone tinged with amusement. "The man was a perverted old bastard."

Yuu allowed themselves to be led further by their king, their steps measured as though they were walking a tightrope with him. The weight of his hand on their shoulder was impossible to ignore, a silent reminder of their wildly unbalanced power dynamic.

He stepped back, gesturing for Yuu to follow as he made his way to the throne. With a lazy grace, he dropped into the large seat, his arms draped languidly over one of the armrests as though the events of the day had taken no toll on him at all.

"C’mere." he said as casually as he might have back in school, motioning to the small space beside him. "Sit. I won't bite."

Yuu hesitated, their stomach twisting as their gaze flicked between him and the space left on the cushioned seat. 

Leona’s gaze never left them, the weight of his command impossible to ignore. Slowly, they moved over, beaded sandals echoing in the large empty room. They started to lower themselves onto the left side of the throne, their hands gripping the armrest as if anchoring themselves to reality.

There was barely room for the both of them. Yuu sat down cautiously, making sure to leave at least a few inches between both their legs. They looked down at the colorful beaded bangles on their wrists and adjusted them as they settled in.

Leona leaned forward slightly, his smirk sharp. "Now," he said, his voice low, "No bullshitting. Tell me what you truly think of what I did."

Yuu’s breath caught, their pulse pounding in their throat. They met his gaze, their own expression carefully guarded, They inhaled deeply, steeling themselves. They knew the wrong answer could cost them, and so could the truth. It was a dangerous game, and they were far from certain they could win against him. 

One thing was clear, there was no turning back now. He intended to play with them.

The answer was simple. He wanted them all to witness it. That’s why he did it.

"I think…" Yuu began, their voice measured, "You’re trying to prove something. To the council. To the kingdom. To yourself." The truth left their lips easier than they thought possible.

Leona’s eyes narrowed slightly, though his smirk didn’t falter. "And what, exactly, do you think I’m trying to prove?"

Yuu hesitated, the weight of his question pressing down on them. They chose their next words carefully, heart racing as they stared into his sharp green eyes.

"That you’re…strong enough to lead," they said finally. "That you deserve to be here."

For a moment, the air between them was charged with unspoken tension. Then, Leona leaned back, his smirk softening into something that almost resembled a genuine smile.

"Interesting theory," he said, his tone unreadable.

Yuu couldn’t tell if that was a good thing, or if they’d just sealed their fate. They took a steadying breath, relieved that Leona seemed somewhat satisfied with their response. His sharp gaze, however, told them the conversation was far from over.

“One more thing,” he said, his tone deceptively casual. “There’s something else I want to know your thoughts about.” One of his brows quirked upward.

Yuu straightened slightly in their corner of the throne, their posture still cautious. “Your Majesty?”

“You seem restless, little mouse. Tell me…what else is on your mind?” His voice was low, almost a purr, but the demand was razor-edged. “No sugarcoating it either. No filter. Honest thoughts about everything.” He held a palm in the air between them, but it felt like a trap.

Leona’s eyes tracked Yuu’s every move as they absorbed his words, seeming to just notice how they sat slightly off-center, leaving space between them and his leg.

 As if any physical distance could ever shield them from his intense scrutiny.

Yuu exhaled a breathy laugh, the sound strained. Their head spun from the abruptness of his request. In the time since their arrival at Leona’s behest, he had spoken to them so sparingly, and never this directly. It was almost as if they were strangers all over again.

“Everything?” they asked, stalling for time. “That’s a lot to cover.” They hesitated before adding, softly, “I mean-” They struggled on where to begin. “It’s… good to see you, Leona. I mean…Your Majesty.” The correction felt clumsy, a verbal stumble that reminded Yuu just how much had changed. The man sitting beside them was not the same person they’d once known. The thought tugged painfully at their chest.

“Not to be uh- rude but…you do look tired…” they ventured cautiously. “I heard the Sunrise City folk have been organizing more protests. Challenging the authority of the palace.” Their voice softened. “It can’t be easy to deal with.” They diverted his question slightly, bringing up recent events.

“I mean…” Yuu’s gaze drifted to the pile of sand that had once been Griza, then back to Leona. The question tumbled out before they could stop themselves. “H-how are you…feeling?”

Leona’s expression remained impassive as he studied them and their words. No doubt he noticed how their eyes lingered on him, searching for traces of the man they’d once known. 

A man he himself knew no longer existed.

He let out an irritated huff, his eyes flicking briefly to the pile of sand too. “It’s becoming more of an annoyance than an actual threat,” he said, his tone dismissive. Then his gaze returned to Yuu, sharp and unyielding. “...You really want to know how I’m feeling?” 

Yuu’s ears perked up at the question, hearing the doubt in his tone. It was the most candid he’d been since their arrival. His guardedness, the impenetrable walls he’d built around himself, seemed to crack, if only slightly.

“Oh.” Yuu blinked, startled. “Yes, Your Majesty. Of course! You can… talk to me about anything.” Their words were soft, formal, yet tinged with sincerity as they nodded.

Leona scoffed bitterly, the sound carrying a weight of frustration. “...Ever since I became king, everything I had before is gone. No more days of slacking off, no more carefree moments of not giving a damn. Now, it’s just this...” He gestured lazily around the grand but empty throne room. “...the kingdom and its endless turmoil.” He paused, his expression unchanged, but his emerald eyes burned with emotions left unspoken.

“And now, I don’t even have the one thing I truly wanted.”

Yuu’s breath hitched as they watched him watching them from the corner of their vision, their carefully maintained mask slipping. “But…Your Majesty, isn’t this what you wanted?” They gestured to the ornate throne room too, its vastness a testament to his new status. “To be king?” They relaxed slightly as they spoke, a whisper of the old melancholic Leona slipping through in his words. For a fleeting moment, he felt less distant.

Leona’s lips curled into a faint, sardonic smile, wrinkles creasing around his darkened eyes. “What I wanted? What I really want…” He leaned closer, his voice low but searing. “...is to go back to when I was free to do whatever the hell I wanted. When I wasn’t stuck in this…damn throne room, surrounded by…traitors and sycophants. No one I can trust or talk to, to…be by my side.”

The honesty in his tone made Yuu’s chest tighten. 

“You of all people should know that,” he said, his gaze piercing as a crooked smile tugged at his mouth.

They had wanted to keep their distance, but Leona's words landed heavy in the silence between them, the soft weight of his confession pulling their heartstrings. There was a rawness to his tone that unsettled them. As if their prior words had stirred something deep inside him, memories they had once shared, secrets only they both knew.

Leona’s broken smile felt like a ghost, haunting them both.   

“I’m sorry…” Yuu looked down, their voice barely above a whisper. They wanted to…to empathize with him, but the memory of Griza’s death still hung heavy in the air, a grim reminder of the man he had become. “I do know, Leo-” The name slipped from their lips again before they could stop themselves. “I mean…Your Majesty.”

Leona’s scoff was softer this time, almost wistful. 

"I guess...things were simpler back then, huh?" Yuu gave him a nostalgic smile as the coolness of the back of the throne soaked into their robes. The few inches between the two of them felt like a cavern now. “I…don’t envy you. Being king must be…” They struggled to find the word, a tightness in their own chest. “...lonely.” Their voice dropped. 

Yuu hesitated before speaking again, the silence between them like still, uncharted waters. “...What can I do to help, Your Majesty?” They dared to ask again, creating a ripple they weren’t sure if they wanted to cause. As they met his gaze, they knew they could no longer hide the sadness they felt for him, for both of them, at how things turned ended up.

He breathed out.

“I never asked for this. I never really wanted this, ya know.” Leona said, his voice flat yet laced with an unmistakable pain.  

“I know…”  Yuu felt the full weight of his gaze settle on them, searching, pressing his grief onto them. His eyes flicked over their face, taking in every subtle shift of their expression, the sadness they thought they had hidden beneath a veil of stoic composure. He saw them. And they knew he saw them, mourning for what both their lives once were.

It was a silent accusation, a subtle reminder that the walls they had worked so hard to erect were not as impenetrable as they thought. And yet, there was an unsettling tenderness in his eyes that made Yuu’s breath catch, slipping like a dagger under their ribs.

“But, there’s nothing you can do, even if I wanted ya to…” he said, his voice quiet but firm, the words weighted with resignation. The tension in the air only thickened, a heavy silence; screams muffled with years of unspoken words and unhealed wounds.  

Yuu’s eyes burned. They felt the sting of tears gathering, but they blinked and fought to keep them at bay, clawing at their bracelets on their wrist once more. They were unraveling at the edges, and for a fleeting moment, they feared the years of their trained professionalism would slip if they sat next to the miserable king any longer. 

They couldn't break character.  

"You're right, I’m sorry," Yuu confessed, wiping at their eyes with a hasty swipe of their arm. Their voice cracked as they spoke, an unintended tremor in the words. “I guess I should go, continue my work then, sir?” They stood, hoping to escape the suffocating intensity of this moment between them. “Your Majesty…” They bowed again, then stood there, waiting. 

But, Leona didn’t dismiss them.  

Before they could take another step, the king’s arm shot out like a whip, taking their wrist with surprising force. His touch was firm but desperate, pulling them back down onto the throne with him.  

Yuu’s breath was taken from them, and before they could even process what was happening, they found themselves falling and plummeting...straight into his lap. The impact left them breathless, their heart pounding wildly against their ribs. Leona shifted his body, catching them easily and wrapping his arms tightly around their waist, pulling them flush to him, their back pressed to his chest. His chin came to rest on their shoulder, his breath warm and shaky against their skin. Without words, he buried his face in the crook of their neck, nose tip tracing their pulse point. 

His smell was the same from all those years ago, cinnamon, citrus, star anise. Yuu could practically feel it, the tension and desperation pouring off him like an electric current. It was all they could do not to scream, for both of them.

“S-stay,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, crackling with emotion. “I don’t want cha to go.”  

Yuu’s body went rigid, heart hammering; a frantic rhythm in their ears. The warmth of his body, the weight of his arms around them. It was all so achingly familiar, yet the desperation in his grip felt foreign. This wasn’t the Leona they had once known. His loneliness clung like a heavy shroud, smothering them both in the savanna heat. There was something darker, more urgent beneath it all now, more intense than anything they remembered, a weight, a suffocating pressure. His loneliness seeped into them, and it clung to their chest like an immovable boulder. 

They couldn’t breathe. They couldn’t even move.  

“Your M-majesty?” Their voice trembled, a flicker of uncertainty breaking through the facade they had carefully crafted. They froze, unsure how to react, caged in the snare of his arms like a helpless animal. 

“I thought…” Yuu stuttered, still breathless, their voice barely a whisper. Their sweat caused their clothes to stick to multiple points on their body. “I thought there was nothing I could do t-to help?” Their body reacted to his touch against their neck, sending involuntary shivers down their spine. The tingles ran from their chest into their legs, and they couldn’t suppress the way their body burned under his invasive touch.  

Leona’s grip tightened, pulling them even closer to him. He inhaled deeply near their ear, his breath shaky against the curve of their neck. They knew he could feel how stiff they were in his arms, the way their body quivered with a mixture of confusion, fear, and something else. 

They knew he could feel their hesitance, but still, they stayed. 

And that seemed to be enough for him. 

“...You’re the only person in this fucking place that makes me feel like….myself,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost pleading. He whispered it as if it was the world’s most important secret. “That’s how you can help.”  

Yuu’s chest ached. They wanted to empathize with him, comfort him, and understand. But, there was another weight in the room that couldn’t be ignored. A man’s remains still lay near, a grim reminder of what Leona had become in their years apart. 

A king broken by his choices, a man who had spilled blood. Devoured his own remorse and morals long ago. And yet here he was, like a child clinging to their robes, desperate for the comfort of a bit of human touch. 

Yuu closed their eyes, torn. Every fiber of their being screamed to pull away, to remember the man he had killed with their own eyes. But the ache in their chest grew, the heaviness of his loneliness, clawing at them. It was too much to resist indulging in. They knew it was wrong, toxic even but-

The desperation he felt for them was...intoxicating. 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” they whispered, head light, their voice barely a breath. They closed their eyes, bracing for whatever would come next, but still, they waited, unsure if they had just stepped into a trap they would never escape from.

Leona’s body stiffened at their passive response, and a soft, almost satisfied hum escaped him. 

Oh? So, he hadn’t expected them to stay on his lap, to offer any kind of comfort, but here they were: allowing him to have what he apparently so desperately wanted.  

Slowly, Leona tilted his head, the outline of his lips grazing the skin of Yuu’s neck with the gentlest of touches. His grip remained tight, as though trying to anchor them both to this fleeting moment, afraid it would slip away if he didn’t. 

“Say my name,” he whispered, his voice low and full of something almost frantic.  

Yuu gasped, their body relaxing despite themselves. It somewhat disgusted them that they wanted to give in to him. The tension in their limbs began to loosen, and they instinctively pressed themselves closer to him, their body betraying all those emotional boundaries they had worked so hard to build.

"Leona," they murmured, their voice barely audible, a trembling whisper, just for him. 

"Leona..." They repeated it as if saying his name was the only thing that could ground them both in this chaotic and messy moment.  

They sensed his body react at the sound of his name, reverberating in the space around them. His chest shuddered behind their back, his grip on Yuu’s waist tightening. His claws gripped their robes to almost discomfort, trapping them even closer to him.  

As he exhaled shakily, it was as if a sense of relief washed over him. Yuu felt the tension in the rest of his body release beneath them. “Again,” he whispered, broad nose tracing the shell of their ear. His voice was croaky, almost pleading.  

Yuu’s heart raced, the warmth of his thighs soaking into theirs. Their breath quickened, caught somewhere between fear and longing, sweat beading on their forehead. They didn’t know how they had ended up here, sitting in the lap of the damn king after he murdered someone before their eyes. Then, offering him comfort with nothing but his name, and the weight of their body. 

But here they were, and there was no turning back.  

“...Leona,” they whispered a third time, sealing their fate. The name escaped their lips like a prayer, a desperate plea for the boy they once knew, the boy they had once admired, to come back. To claw his way through the cruel king he had become.

--

[americanmoths]

extreme home makeover

“Your father deserves a second Dementor’s Kiss just for buying that piece-of-shit vase,” Harry says in hour six of an intense argument with Draco, when he’s exchanged his legitimate gripes for pettier weapons.

Draco huffs. “Confrigo.” The vase explodes.

Right on schedule: Hour six is usually when they stop fighting with words at all.

“Bombarda!” “Protego!” “Incendio! INCENDIO!”

The curtains catch on fire.

When Harry first started sleeping with Draco, Draco had matching houndstooth-patterned furniture. His ottoman had gone first, after Draco met Harry’s conventionally attractive (male) Auror partner. Then the love seat, because Harry learned Draco’s mother didn’t know they were dating. Then the couch and the coffee table and the chandelier, when Draco told Harry he loved him and Harry hadn’t immediately said it back.

“Fuck you! Those drapes were handmade and imported and—uh!” Harry pulls Draco against him, both of them breathing hard, their bodies ready for hour seven of the argument, when they always find more pleasurable uses for anger and adrenaline. But first:

“Your living room looks like a battlefield, and you don’t have much furniture left.” Harry says. “Move in with me?”

--

for @drarrymicrofic prompt: inhale | on ao3

[crabboytahomaru]

doodles feat my favourite heirs

[rationaliity]

dr ratio vs. the genius society | an analysis

this'll also be a comparison between ruan mei and dr. ratio so warning for that one too, just in case.

i saw this post by @chronical-lover

and firstly, i just want to say thank you, especially about mentioning how aeons don't care about humans because youre so right. i wanna expand a little bit on the comparison between his character and the genius' that we've met this far.

ratio ultimately failed to be recognized not because he wasn't smart enough, but because he was too human. he's human first, scientist second. he'll always be human first, he doesn't have it in him to act without emotions no matter how much he wants logic to dictate his every move. his entire character is that he believes every one has a human right to be alive, to learn and to grow. he's there to guide them, not necessarily in the nicest way, but still.

i think contrasting him with ruan mei in the story quest was a perfect idea. when you meet ruan mei, she's kind. she makes the trailblazer feel comfortable, even for just a little bit. she offers companionship, tea, and a conversation. but she does not care about the trailblazer or her creations, something painfully obvious in her actions. when the trailblazer was facing up against ruan mei's failed attempt to make a replica of the emanator of propagation, ruan mei was no where to be found. but you know who was, just in case he had to step in ? veritas ratio. even though both knew that the replica wasn't likely to hurt the trailblazer, ratio was there.

" since you're here, i won't intercede. but should you fail, i will be forced to prevent some avoidable misfortunes "

( i hate this man so much )

but he was there. he witnessed the fight, and once the threat was over, it was time to get going ( his words, not mine ). he was there to witness you fight, and should he had needed to, he would've stepped in to prevent us from any actual danger. however, when we approach ruan mei after the fight, and we look reasonably upset from her, we don't get an actual apology. she says she regrets her actions, but her words aren't actually about putting us in danger. she was upset that her experiment fell short, that she had made another predictable outcome.

" you look.. upset, correct ? i regret my actions. there's no defending what i've done. time and again, my experiments have fallen short, and they've always yielded predictable results. i made a clone but it.. doesn't hold a candle to the emanator. "

she did say that she would be there if the danger proved to be too great, but she was not. veritas, however, was. both of them said that they would step in if needed, but only one of them was actually in a position to do so. only one of them took preventative measures to make sure that you were safe from harm. and that is not the genius ruan mei, no matter what her words say.

ruan mei has a flowery way of speaking. not to say that she necessarily minces her words, she's upfront about a lot of things. but she lures the trailblazer into a false sense of security. she's introspective, and questions her own actions a lot. but she's never apologetic about the way that her actions put other people in danger, just that they don't yield the results she wants.

ratio, however, is curt. we meet him originally as a brooding, mysterious figure. he's mean, he doesn't use a lot of words to get his point across. he says what he means, and he's a fan of effective communication. he doesn't have to worry about himself, he knows who he is and how is actions affect himself and the people around him, and that leads to people assuming that he's egotistical ( which he might be , a little bit. as a treat ) but the reality is that ratio cares more about the people around him that he'll ever let on.

and that's where he fails. that's the fundamental difference between him and those within the genius society. ruan mei, herta, screwllum, and the other geniuses do not care about anything other than results. and yet ratio is kind. he's inherently kind, his actions are all for other people. he's saved a dozen worlds with his inventions. he's a scholar within the intelligentsia guild, and a doctor saving his patient's lives every single day. he wants to guide people from the shadows towards the right answer, he wants to make them use their brains and think.

he does not act without considering other people. he can't be a genius first, and a human second. and that's where he fails to gain nous' recognition. it's not that he's not not intelligent enough to be a genius, it's that even in his pursuit of knowledge, he has not forgone his humanity.

and perhaps, in nous' eyes, that's the difference between the mediocre and the genius. to erase every part of you, your emotions, your empathy, your humanity, in the pursuit of knowledge is what separates a genius from the masses. not having those barriers allows you to really dig deep into subjects that would otherwise be considered taboo or dangerous, because you don't care about how the outcome affects people as long as you can study it. as long as you can get answers out of what you're studying, it doesn't really matter what the test subjects are feeling.

ratio is too human, too caring, to ever be considered a genius in nous' eyes.

[captainkirkk]

I knew Chase killed a guy in season 6, I didn't realise that it was the same episode House returned to practising medicine after being committed to a psychiatric hospital

[thedemises]

——— COLD HANDS。 ★ sunday.

note; I don't think I wrote my boy sunday good enough to the canon..... anyways I took inspiration from the fact that my hands r always cold so why not 😈 (I totally didn't take a week to finish this hahahahah this turned out a lot longer than I expected,,,, over 2k.... 😦)

tagging; @aventurineswife :3

you could've barely noticed it at first, but the tips of your fingers were slowly growing numb as time passes, likely due to the cold humidity in the room. however, you hardly care, letting yourself sink into the serene stillness in the party car of the astral express.

it had always been a normal occurrence for your hands to feel much colder than anyone else's, and it was a bother at times when you would unintentionally graze your own hand against a part of your body — however, you managed to find a small advantage in it; often pressing your icy fingers against your friends' necks as a small, playful prank.

you can remember the priceless expressions on your fellow express members' faces whenever you pull such an act on them without their awareness and the thought of it barely makes you chuckle to yourself on any occasion. heh, the corner of your lips quirk up into a sly smirk without your intentions.

though you wouldn't recommend doing that to the conductor of the train...

pointer fingers lightly tap on each other with hands clasped together, you stay seated with legs crossed as your eyes occasionally scan the room carefully for a potential candidate to interact with. member or guest, you just want to talk to pass the time. (shush isn't really fun to converse with, in your opinion; other than those jokes, he's a gentleman but not quite interesting enough in your eyes. though you're curious about shush's creator; the one who made the mixologist).

the top of your shoe taps against the polished floor, in a steady rhythm made up by your mind — or coming from a song you had in your mind for a while now — while you eventually spot your victim possible conversationist.

a young man standing at the farthest corner of the cart, in a bicolored tailcoat and small wings behind his ears which are of similar tone to his muted blue hair as a golden halo floats behind the head. they flap and twitch from time to time and he is merely unbothered by the silence in the area (besides the sound of glass cups clinking from shush cleaning them and that lady in a purple veil looking over some tarot cards floating in her hands), the halovian simply stares about at the space outside the cabin with a sort of... longing look in his eyes.

...

ah, sunday — former head of the oak family and older brother of the interastral famous idol; robin. honestly; you weren't really involved in the whole penacony catastrophe since you, alongside dan heng, decided to stay behind in the express until you made the decision to go and went along with the archivist (and a certain galaxy ranger who was practically hijacking the parlor car, and with a gun pointed at the reserved train guardian no less) and then assisting the others in taking down that damned giant mechanical monstrosity and that damned giant mechanical monstrosity's sea angel-looking things.

and now with that event taken care of and calming down, it's a bit of a surprise when the guy who tried to basically kill the other astral express members aboards the same train that railed him over a couple times and is now trying to redeem himself from the goal where he tried to turn everyone's dream into a complacent bliss by taking everyone's free will & future in the process.

instead of the one who (though, unintentionally) almost ascended to aeonhood, sunday is reduced to a mere passenger on the express train you too aboard on. what a life turning of events.

and with the idea of spooking him as well settles at the top of your mind.

the mischievous thought solidifies, and your eyes gleam with a subtle spark of excitement. sunday seems like the perfect target — a mix of composed and distant, a far cry from the usual express members who might anticipate your pranks by now; considering how long it has been since you've been a member.

your cold fingers itch with anticipation, the chill now feels like an asset rather than a hindrance — and it feels like the oh-so perfect moment to do so.

you rise from your seat slowly, careful not to make a sound that would alert him to your approach, as your steps are light, muffled by the carpeted floor of the party car. the young halovian seems deeply engrossed in the view beyond the window, the distant in his gaze making you almost reconsider — just for half a second. however, the faint smirk creeping up onto your lips reminds you of your current goal.

and who are you to shy away so quickly from an itching opportunity to fill your satisfaction?

as you inch closer behind with the quietest of steps, his ear wings twitch slightly, making you pause your movements. they’re... quite delicate up close than you realized, the translucent blue edges of each pale feather shimmering faintly and you were almost distracted by them. almost.

why yes, you were curious about his halovian features but now's not the time to ponder, you...

with deft fingers, you gently brush aside a curtain of his muted blue hair, exposing the nape of his neck. it's quite warmer than you expected — soft, almost inviting — and, while at the back of your mind you were a bit baffled how sunday barely even noticed what you were doing, it takes every ounce of self-control not to giggle at the thought of what’s about to happen.

“ah, what’s the point of hesitation now?” you mutter under your breath before plunging your frozen-like fingers onto the bare skin of his neck—

—the reaction you got was instantaneous. sunday’s breath hitches audibly and a low, startled gasp escapes his lips as his entire body jolts from the sudden, icy shock at the nape of his neck; his posture was rigid as if struck by lightning as his ear wings snap open instinctively, flaring out like a startled bird's — the sharp motion sends a soft, fleeting breeze through the air, ruffling your hair slightly.

“by the stars—!” he gasps, eyes wide and glimmering like fractured glass as a hand flies up to cover the assaulted area as if to guard it from another ambush from your shenanigans. his intriguing golden halo hovering behind his head wavers slightly, tilting as though reflecting his momentary loss of composure, and his cheeks flushed a light peachy red from the heat of surprise.

the young man spins around after a small beat of silence with a sharp intake of breath, his expression a mix of shock and confusion, the serene mask he wore moments ago completely shattered.

your hands had already retracted when sunday covered the back of his own neck, and you can't help the laughter that spills out of you; unrestrained and shameless.

“wo—ow!” you manage between bouts of mirth, a hand barely covers your mouth to partially drown out half the noise you were making within the usually quiet cart. “that... that was... absolutely priceless, sunday...!” your voice wavers and slightly cracks at the end of your sentence, still carried by the remnants of your laughter; the amusement from the entire situation clearly written all over your face.

for a moment, he just stares at you, caught between the bewilderment and indignation of your little prank... then, his brows knit together in a way that’s almost endearing, and his lips press into a tight line. “what… was that for?” his careful voice carries the faintest tremor, as though he’s still recovering from the shock of the chill.

eventually, you've recovered from your little laughing fit enough to answer sunday properly this time, as a hand of yours reached up to wipe off a small tear from your eyes. “oh, come on,” you lightly tease, leaning against a nearby chair with a smug grin. “you were just.. idly standing over there, looking all broody and mysterious; I couldn’t resist.”

sunday exhales sharply, visibly trying to collect himself. his wings fold back into place with a soft rustle, and his hand lingers protectively over his neck before letting it hang by his side.

“I was merely... thinking.”

“hm? about what?” asked you while tilting your head.

the halovian hesitates as the faint blush lingering on his cheeks gradually fades, leaving his complexion noticeably paler. “nothing that concerns you.”

“huh, is that so?” you drawl, tapping your chin as if in deep thought. “perhaps I have just found a new mystery to solve — cracking sunday’s enigmatic shell.”

“i— don’t even think about it,” he mutters, though there’s a flicker of something in his tone — a hint of amusement, perhaps? the left wing behind his ear twitches subtly before steadying behind him, but the slight folding of both ear wings toward his face betrays his embarrassment.

amused by his actions, you chuckle to yourself again and fold your arms over your chest. “you’ll have to lighten up eventually, y’know sunny. can’t stay all reserved and quiet forever.”

“don't—” sunday abruptly stops himself, then he sighs in exasperation of your antics. “you’re insufferable. but please refrain from calling me that in the future.”

“and you’re fun to mess with.” you flash him a cheeky smirk, already contemplating your next move. after all, what’s life aboard the astral express without a little bit of mischief?

“also, why not? but, however, if that's what you want...”

as sunday just turns away to the side just a bit, you straighten up your posture, still all smiley and smirking whatnot. you can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment; breaking through the usually quiet halovian's composure felt like a minor victory in itself. the quiet hum of the astral express fills the air again as the moment between you fades into the serene stillness of the party car.

still, something about the faint blush lingering on sunday’s cheeks keeps tugging at your thoughts. veneath the cool exterior and formal demeanor lies a person who, much like everyone else aboard this train, carries their own scars and stories. you might be good at teasing and poking a bit here and there, but you’re not oblivious to the weight he seems to bear — especially with what happened in the recent events.

the mood shifts slightly as you observe him quietly — he has resumed gazing out the window, though his expression is much softer now, his wings no longer bristling but relaxed. the golden halo behind him stabilizes, the light coming from the lights inside the party cart casting a faint glow that makes him look almost ethereal.

“you know,” you say, breaking the silence. sunday still gazes into the galaxy beyond the window but he secretly listens to whatever you're about to say. “I’m not always about pranks — however, if you ever feel like talking about whatever’s on your mind, I can lend you an ear too.”

the young man turns his head toward you, his brows raise up a little in mild surprise. for a moment, he seems to study you, as if trying to gauge your sincerity — finally, he exhales, and a small, almost imperceptible smile touches his lips.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

the response is brief but carries a surprising warmth that wasn’t there before. you nod in response, satisfied, and let the quietness stretch out again. maybe there’s more to sunday than meets the eye, and perhaps, in time, he’ll let you see a little more of what lies beneath his enigmatic exterior in the near future of trailblazing expeditions.

the sliding doors to the party car slide open suddenly, and ever-so bubbly march 7th bounces in as her ever-cheerful energy fills the space of the previous serene atmosphere. “hey! what’s going on in here? did I miss something fun?”

you almost can’t resist glancing at sunday with a small mischievous glint in your eye, the latter in question softly groans and shakes his head to himself.

“oh, really nothing much. I was merely giving our newest passenger a warm welcome.”

the bubblegum-haired girl glances between the two of you, a bit curious what the two of you were doing a bit earlier. “huh.. really though? because it looks like you were up to no good again.”

“awh— wait, me? never,” you tilt your head slightly as your voice takes on an exaggerated tone of mock-innocence. behind you, sunday exhales sharply and his eyes narrow as he pinches the bridge of his nose. march 7th crosses her arms, arching a brow before both of them briefly exchange a shared look — one that speaks volumes about their exasperation.

as the conversation shifts to lighter topics, the laughter and camaraderie in the room slowly build, filling the once-quiet space with warmth and life. even the young halovian seems to ease into the dynamic, his reserved nature softening just a bit as he listens to the banter around him.

in this moment, you realize that life aboard the astral express isn’t just about the journeys or the destinations — it’s about the people you share them with, the stories you create, and the bonds you forge along the way.

and as the stars continue to streak past outside into the milky way, you can’t help but feel that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

© thedemises 2024. all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, copy, or feed my written works to ai.

[roses-and-revolutions]

Not Blue, Black

Everyone always assumes that Danny's eyes are blue. He’s shown pictures of his family before and his dad’s eyes are blue, and so are his twin brother’s and his daughter’s, and his big sister’s. So his must be too! Well, his mom seemed to have this weird purple thing going on so no one was too sure. And no one seemed to care either way, especially not Danny. Besides, why would anyone care about eye color when they had such an amazing young man working alongside them?

Danny was the perfect intern. He’s always on time, never giving trouble, always giving helpful suggestions, and good at not only his job but everyone else’s too, making it handy to have him around the office. He was also the workplace hottie, with many guys and girls hovering around him, desperately trying to make him theirs despite him announcing himself happily married the first day he got here. (Everyone knew who his husband and wife were since he couldn’t help but show them off every chance he got. Everyone knows they’ve got no chance, but one can dream.)

He also seems to light up just about whatever room he happens to be in. Just his presence alone made even their shittiest days in the office seem like just tiny inconveniences in the eyes of the universe. Unless he himself was pissed, which didn’t happen too often. But when he was, everyone felt it and knew to avoid him like the plague. But, other than that, Danny was an all-around good guy and was for sure going to get the job after he graduated from Gotham U. 

You, on the other hand, weren’t too sure about your position in the company, as you were Danny’s antithesis, everything he was not. You were always late for reasons no one cared to understand. Just about every issue in the office was pinned on you whether you were involved or not. You couldn’t ever think about helpful suggestions and just rode off the backs of others. And compared to everyone else's good looks, you were the workplace monster. 

You had a scar on your face and body you got as a kid. You got it in an accident and it deformed your right side quite a bit. It was challenging to adjust to yes, but over time you learned to live with and accept it. Others not so much. The stares you got almost daily, from everyone in the office to school, even random strangers on the street. All of them made you feel scared and sick. Like you wanted to dig off your skin and rip off your flesh and replace it all with something newer, better, more normal. But you couldn’t and had to live like this for the rest of your life. You had to live with the stares for the rest of your life.

Your only saving grace was this job, the one you were assigned to when you first got the internship. You were awful at it at first, resulting in many scoldings from the manager. But throughout the year you were here at this company, you dedicated your time and effort to be good at at least this one thing. And now you were proud to say that you were damn good at it. The best even! So good in fact that everyone decided that they would drop their workload onto you and let you handle it even if it meant extremely late nights at the office.

And that’s how you got to be here, on the company roof at 1 a.m., debating whether or not going home to actually sleep and eat would be worth the scolding you would get from the manager when you arrive to work ‘late’ again..., among other things.

You know having these kinds of thoughts was bad for your mental health (your therapist grilled it into you every time you even mentioned them to her), but it was freeing in a sick sort of way every time you thought of each scenario that could play out if you just-

“Hey!”

Jumping back to your senses, you turned around and saw none other than Danny Fenton standing right behind you. You two were never all that close in proximity before now so you only knew that he was big. You weren’t expecting the absolute unit that was standing behind you. You knew you were short but having to crane your neck to look at his face only put shit into perspective.

“Another late night?”

You only nod dumbly as he moves from behind to stand next to you, looking down at the bustling city below. A deep sigh came from him as he pulled a candy from his back pocket and popped it into his mouth. He was always eating candy. Did he have low blood sugar or just a sweet tooth?

“Same. It’s like we can never go home, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Mr. Perfect’s suffering just a bit until you realized what he meant. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

“Come on Fenton, just because you’ve done a few late nights doesn’t mean you ‘never get to go home’.”

You settled next to him, also looking down on the city as well. He was on his phone now, the blue light illuminating his features.

“She really never sleeps does she?”  He says laughing to himself.

You were kinda pissed off now. Who was he, Mr. Perfect Intern, Daniel Fenton, to compare his suffering to yours? You practically lived at this job now, once you weren’t busy with school or something else! You even bet that after this he’s gonna go home to his nice apartment and be met by a wrapped-up dinner on the table made by either his husband or wife. (HE HAS A FREAKING HUSBAND AND WIFE FOR FUCKS SAKE!) He was probably talking about his little girl just now, and how she’s up waiting for him. Maybe she was half asleep on the couch with the TV on since she was so determined to see her Dad come home. It’s Friday after all of course she’d get to stay up way past her bedtime. He’s gonna get a hot bath and wash off dirt and grim of work, and-

Danny’s laugh was low and deep, rumbling through the air, sending chills down your spine. He turned to you and smiled his pearly whites glimmer-  Wait were those fangs?

“Dude you know you mumble out loud… right?”

There was silence between you two until a bright red crept up your neck, and ever so slowly engulfed your face. Shame flooded your entire being as you cradled your face in your hands. You sighed, feeling like more air wanted to come out but your very human lungs were empty and in need of oxygen. So sucking in a breath, you looked him in the face (why can't you see his eyes?). He was still smiling, his fangs (he has freaking fangs how had you never noticed before!) poking his bottom lips making little dimples.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve been stuck here for three days doing everyone else's work. I haven’t slept or eaten or taken a shower. I-”

“I know, I know. You’ve been busting your ass for a while now so of course you’d be grumpy.”

You don’t think grumpy is the word you’d use but it was close enough. 

“So how long have you been here Fenton?”

“A week.” He replied cooly, popping yet another sweet in his mouth. (Okay he needed to stop, at this rate, diabetes would be the next one to put a ring on his finger) But you were surprised nonetheless.

You’re sure you would’ve noticed if he was here for the entire week. He must have been playing games with you.

“Am not.”

Okay, you needed to stop thinking out loud.

“Look, just trust and believe that if I didn’t want you to notice me, you wouldn’t have. But I did so…” He shrugged and looked off into the distance once more.

You think that what he said is impossible, everyone notices Danny Fenton. But the office was pretty small compared to bigger companies. And if he really was there for the entire week you should have noticed him at some point of the three days you were here. You didn’t hear him coming up behind you a few moments ago either. So maybe there is some merit to his words.

“What’s got you here for so long anyways Fenton?”

He sighed, his face looking more tired than before. 

“You know the project that my group has, the one we got two months ago?” You nod and he continues, 

“Well, it was fine at first. Everyone was pulling their weight, excited to get it done. But then it started, again, with ‘Hey Danny, I’ve got something important to do this afternoon, can you finish this for me?’. Then, ‘Danny I'm not coming in today, do this for me? Thanks!’. And ‘Hey, Danny’s good at this let him do it!’. ‘Danny I need help! Wait no…, I actually meant that I want you to do this for me.’ 

Danny’ll do this, Danny can do that, don’t worry Danny’s on it! Danny, you’ll finish the project… right?

That along with the other workloads that are trusted upon me by the managers and other employees, ON TOP OF MY OWN ASSINGED WORK!”

By the time he was done, you had already recognized that voice all too well. Danny was struggling, right on the edge of his line, using the shirt on his back the make just a little more. Danny was breaking and just barely holding it together, just like you were. You never realized it before, but you notice now that, Danny’s fucking tired. Just like you.

A wet laugh broke your train of thought. His face was a bit wet, his eyes (?) red from held-back tears.

“People think that I’ve got no flaws-” A pang of guilt shoots through you as you were one of those people, “- but I do. Metric shit ton in fact. One of them is that I can’t help but to help people, even if it’s detrimental to myself. And if my sister finds out about this she’s gonna slap me upside and force me to stay home for a month!”

Another laugh rang through the air, sounding just a bit too crazy for your liking. Even so, you couldn’t help but wonder, you just needed to ask-

“Why are you telling me this?”

His laughter stopped and he turned to look at you. Like really look at you. You realize that Danny’s eyes weren’t blue like you and everyone else were assuming. His eyes were black. So black. Blacker than the night sky and deeper than any ocean. And within those oceans swam thousands of bright lights, each burning 10x brighter than the earth’s own sun! Yet they could never shine through that great abyss. It was beautiful. Danny’s eyes were so beautiful. 

“Because I’m gonna quit.”

“What?” Well, you weren’t expecting that.

“Yeah, I’m going to quit. And as your good friend-” Good friend? Since when!? “-I’m going to advise you to quit as well! I predict that this shabby ass company is gonna collapse in a few months and I DO NOT want to be there for that shit show, doubt you want to be there either.”

You feel conflicted. This is the first time that you and Danny Fenton have actually spoken to each other and after basically trauma dumping on you he tells you to quit! This has to be a prank! Some sick twisted joke!

“It’s not.”

CURSE YOUR BLOODY LIPS!

Danny smiled. He looked noticeably less human now that you could see fangs and eyes, and were his ears always pointy? Dear lord is he a part of the Fae!?

“Close but not quite.” 

At this point, you were pretty sure you weren’t speaking out loud and he was just straight-up reading your mind. He handed you a piece of paper and clasped his hand over yours.

“Just think about it ok? The first one is my number, so just call when you need a friend to talk to. The second is my brother’s, he thinks you’re cute.”

“What?” You look up only to see him gone as if he was never there. Looking back down you expect to see the paper gone too. But it was still there, the flirtatious message next to the second number making the tips of your ears turn red. Once again you remember that, Danny if a fucking giant, one who was now gone without a trace…

“What have I gotten myself into?”

You decided to quit the next day.

Three months later the company ends up in a scandal so bad, that even the bats are investigating it.

You decide to give Danny a call.

All I wanted to do was write a prompt about Danny's eyes... The fuck!?!?!?

[yueyueyxie]

|| ⏾⋆.˚ a cup of tea for his dearest

pairing: yan!sunday x reader, established relationship

fandom: hsr, tw: yandere, drugging.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

sunday's face always seemed a tinge too pale when others visited you and his home. the wings at the side of his face fluttered slightly, a clear sign of his worry that he tried to hide. you laughed, tapping his side, a smile on your face.

"We haven't seen them in a while, but there's nothing to worry, they won't bite." you said, smoothening his hair. he looked away from you, the wings on his head slowly stopping to flap. "What if they steal you away?" he replied. the same as always.

it should have been merely a tease, as you treated it as such, but he said the question with such sincerity and worry every time you started to wonder if it seemed as you didn't love him enough. "Of course not," you replied. he turned around, but you could see the corners of his mouth turn up.

.

sunday passed you a cup of tea in front of your guests, his face gentle. "I can take it myself," you said as you took the cup anyway. the steam blew in your face and you sipped. making a face at the slightly bitter taste, you frowned and made an face at him.

"It's so bitter."

"Medicine is always bitter, especially the good ones," he replied, taking the cup out of your hands only after you finished it off, albeit with unhappiness. "There." he came close to you, placing a sweet into your mouth. at this distance, you could see the gold of his eyes.

Cough. "Sunday, we've got visitors here." you looked away, tasting the sugar of the sweet melt in your mouth. "Okay, dear," he brushed a lock of hair near your ear backwards.

you looked at your visitors, but instead of awkwardness, confusion seemed to be reflected in their eyes.

with sunday seeing the visitors out, you returned to your room.

.

"Sunday, what have you done?"

sunday checked that you weren't in hearing distance, before turning around. the visitor's face paled as his smile disappeared. he tilted his head, watching the visitor with a very blank expression. the same expression as when a person looking at a singular ant before dousing and drowning it in water.

"You- you can't keep wiping their memory like that!"

sunday sighed.

"Why do you have to remember? They don't concern you at all. I suppose I'll have to take other measures then, if you don't keep your mouth shut."

.

how many times has it been already? sunday can't remember. drugging you, drugging the visitors, drugging the roses in your garden with the blood from bodies he doesn't know exactly where to hide...

he's a drug addict to your smile and he'll make sure you stay with him forever.

[whattraintracks]

2. Revenge - TMNT 2003

Midnight meals and Megamind.

"But metals can be melted by the heat of ravange."

"It's 'revenge,' and it's best served cold."

"But"—Donny's hands are busy wrapped around his mug, so he sticks a finger out instead of up—"it can be easily reheated in the microwave of evil."

"Well, I think yer warranty's about to expire," Raph grumbles, harshly poking the start button on their probably-neutral microwave.

"Maybe I got an extended warranty," Donny hums along to the magnetron.

"Warranties are invalid if ya don't use the product for its intended purpose."

"Are you two quoting Megamind right now?"

Oh, hey, Leo's here.

Leo's staring at them like they are doing something very odd. Probably because they're in the kitchen eating ramen and quoting Megamind when they should be sleeping. And because there's zero intonation in Donny's voice right now. And because Raph looks like the microwave personally offended him. Not Donny or his intonation-less voice, though, or the round of "quote that movie scene" he started out of the blue. Raph's the best like that.

"Cuz," Raph grumbles.

"Cuz," Donny echoes, sipping his ramen.

"What are you a cop?" Raph says.

"Cop Leo," Donny agrees.

Leo sighs because that's what Leo does at odd hours. Just like Donny doesn't talk right and Raph scowls. Normal stuff.

"Why do I bother?" Then Leo turns around and walks back out of the kitchen.

Donny wants to giggle at that, but he can't—either because of the intonation thing or because he's curled around his mug of ramen like a shrimp—so he does it with his hands. He's never tried giggling with his hands before; it looks like fluttering his fingers.

Raph watches him, then copies it. His face is still stuck in his it's-an-awful-time-of-day frown, so he probably can't giggle with his voice either. Donny gets that. Donny gets Raph.

And Raph gets Donny. He's the best like that.

[wonweige]

❝ 78151920 ❞ ✶ so do i look like him ? ; not proofread — ignore typos </3 ++ reader (gn!) referred to as 'they/their/them' (reader is NOT the little princess)

she never really knew why she got such looks, but every time the little princess would walk around, head held high and a confident look of her face, the higher ups would look at her with such knowing eyes — as if they did not see her but someone she reminded them of. it made her feel a bit uncomfortable, but she didn't comment about it.

sometimes her father, the crowned prince, would give her the same looks, but that spark would always vanish. from sadness to tender love as he carries her in his strong arms, walking through the halls as she rambles on and on about her day and interests.

her father cherished her a lot, the little princess noted. more so than a normal father would. but the shower of love and tenderness was always eagerly accepted as she'd run into his arms mid-meeting or dress up in pretty outfits because her father could never ever say no to her — his darling little girl.

she just wished he wasn't so overprotective of her.

they'd both play tea party as she adorns a pretty dress, the color oddly resembling the color of the outfit worn by the person in the painting in her father's room. her other parent, she had learned. she didn't ask many questions, she saw how everyone would grow crestfallen at the mention of their name.

even her father, for as much as he tried to hide it, would grow upset, too.

so, the little princess had learned to not mention the name much. but hey, at least her grandpa told her stories! how her parent was the most gorgeous person in all of the lands, how her father was like a puppy with them, how she was the light of her parents' life.

how she had the name [color] hair, the same [tone] skin, the same [color] eyes — how she looked exactly like them.

[whattraintracks]

Haha, what's this? I'm back, and holy guacamole, it got long. What began as wandering speculation nosedived into fic territory.

Short version: I think I really really like the idea of Raph with mystic psychometry. The ability to detect and experience emotional echoes attached to an object.

I benched this idea (largely based on my interpretation of Cal's force ability in SW Jedi: Fallen Order) as soon as I thought of it, because it didn't seem right for Raph. But I really really love psychometry and couldn't stop thinking about it, so I reviewed your published and unpublished HEM writings to see if I could justify it, and, well, here we are.

I think it could work because '03 Raph is an emotional guy, very physical, loves his family, and likes people in general. Additionally, I got the impression from HEM that Raph has a lot of regrets, often building what-ifs off the echoes of his own life, and that this is the kind of mystic power that would piss him off because it's a perceptive ability, and everything he senses has already happened. There is literally nothing he can do about or with it!

You see, I imagine Raph desperately envies both Don's threads—these live, vital connections to the people he loves—and Leo's spinjitzu/hydrokinesis—something he can use to be a better protector. But I love Raph, so I'm going to be mean to him specifically and not give him what he wants.

Like Don's, I think Raph's mystic specialty is shaped by desperation. A deep yearning that he reaches for with his whole soul, causing a shift within him and the world around him. At some point, Raph—angry and longing and missing his brother like a physical thing and guiltily wishing he was back—goes to Don's lab or somewhere else significant to Donny, and it's alive. With the patience and love and laughter of his brother, and for a moment, he's sure Donny never left at all because he's right here.

But he did leave. He can't be here, and whatever this feeling is is too naïve, too young, nothing like the presence his brother carries now. This dark, unwieldy thing that bows Don under its pressure. And Raph almost weeps because despite how powerful the impression is, that's all it is. It's not Don. It's an echo of him. Steeped into the floor and blossoming before his view like a plant feeling sunlight for the first time.

And so Raph discovers mystic echoes. Never things as they are or will be, only snatches of what used to be. Feelings, events, little details lost to time and made imperfect by remembering, preserved in perfect, quiet clarity in the physical world. And at home, they're in everything he touches.

He can't brush against a wall without choking on the overwhelming feeling of his brother's quicksilver mind. The door frame to his room carries the cloying sorrow of everyone who's entered looking for answers and left empty-handed. It starts like this, but as he reaches for these echoes, literally and spiritually, he only begins to feel more. Touching a child's plaything fills him with mirth or a flash of indignation at a toy once stolen. A memory of purchasing new dishware when he scrubs a plate. Dissatisfaction at the ending of a book he's never read before.

And it's annoying and overwhelming and such a stupid power what the shell, but. He gets it, right? That there are emotions so strong they bleed into the world around them. It's almost reassuring to find them, to hold in his hands a little piece of someone else and know what they knew and feel what they felt in a single moment. And it’s maybe even a relief to know his own emotions don't just exist in a void. They linger and enrich everything they touch. With every strong emotion he feels now (which is most of them), he can’t help but wonder what it will leave behind. It's exciting and terrifying.

This is the kind of ability that could burn Raph up, too. Because he's so desperate for any memory of Donny, however stale, that he leaves the metaphorical floodgates open to any and all echoes. He doesn't even realise this is something he can and should temper. He's already got so many of his own emotions, and now he's consuming with abandon those left behind in everything he touches.

Now, emotions that linger on objects don't alter his own. Raph's emotional state isn't changed by them any more than yours would be at the sight of someone smiling brightly or sighing glumly. It's not a transference; usually, he just holds the feelings alongside his own. But echoes are stronger with age. Impressions, once made, work deep into an object, though recent echoes are hard to find. Emotions like to stew before they show themselves.

So maybe he touches some sort of mystic or Foot artifact imbued with malicious intent. An ancient object carrying a mystic echo so powerful and evil that, without preparation, one touch knocks him out cold. His mystic connection feels shivery and frail for a week after, and he desperately isolate to avoid being rocked by an unexpected echo or, worse, find himself unable to feel the important ones anymore.

Once Raph settles into his psychometry and learns to regulate it, his ability could be beneficial in a mystic-rich world like Rise or when mystic foes pop up. Since echoes influenced by mystic are so distinct, if he can avoid overwhelm when interacting with an enchanted object, perhaps he could sense the caster's intent. He couldn't disable a cursed item directly, but this could help him discover how to. He could use this ability to track specific mystic signatures, items or people, given enough time had passed, or he honed the ability enough to detect the fainter, recent echoes. Maybe with time, he'd even be able to purify an object of its echoes. I know these might not seem like abilities Raph would want to cultivate, as detached from combat as they are, but I think they're a logical development here.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk about Raph developing psychometric abilities.

Is Donnie the only one with mystic powers what about his bros?

As of right now, I'm thinking that Donnie would be the only one of the 2k3 turtles with specialized mystic powers! (Don't quote me on that, though, there is a lot of stuff I'm still working out about the later bits.)

On the Same As it Never Was side, they no longer have amulets. If they wanted to train for years, they could use chi without a focus, but for the moment the only one even *slightly* pursuing that is Leo. They are mostly just adult mutant ninja non-magic turtles now.

I'm not opposed to exploring the 2k3 bros with mystic powers as in Rise, if not in the main story then in a side story/'what if' (or seeing someone else's take on this!) but I can't say I've given much thought to the sorts of specialties any of them would have except Donnie. His kind of came naturally as a consequence of his circumstances.

Just for fun, does anyone have any suggestions on Rise-style mystic powers for 2k3 Leo, Raph, and Mike? I'm curious! Doesn't have to be related to their season 5 weapon abilities, but certainly can be.

[feroluce]

Not to make everything about my ship, but if I don't do it no one will, so today we are making meta analysis of Boothill's faceoff match about henghill, because the differences between Boothill's stand off with Luka and his one with Dan Heng- and what you can infer about Boothill himself and what catches his eye in a person- makes me chew concrete.

JUST. I loved the scene between Luka and Boothill so much. I love how wildly unrestrained Boothill is. He really just shoved the barrel of his gun in his opponent's face and put the fear of death into him as a way to test Luka's resolve. I utterly adore him. I hope he does it again. Anyway.

When confronted with all this, Luka freezes. His stress-induced hallucinations were already bad, but you can see how they really ramp up in this match, because before, they were always something familiar. Previous enemies became Silvermanes, or Belobogian automatons, or even Cocolia. Luka is far from home for the first time in his life, and he's so terribly homesick his brain is making everything familiar, because that is what he's desperately craving right now.

But Boothill.

Boothill is something so new, and unique, and horrific and terrifying, that he becomes something entirely unknown to Luka. His hallucination manifests as Something Unto Death, as the very fear of death itself.

And this stand off (which I love so much that this is how this match progressed, because like that's literally just Boothill's in-game skill; he locks the enemy into a one-on-one duel, so this was extremely in character for him) lasts long enough that Owlbert starts having to fill in the silence over the loudspeaker,

and even Boothill himself starts trying to push Luka into making a decision one way or the other.

Given that Boothill is a hunter by trade and is proven to have all the patience to track his prey and then some, this was more for Luka's sake than any impatience on his part, to try to shove him out of his freeze reaction.

And Boothill isn't really hard to read throughout this whole exchange, he all but says outright what he's looking for.

Boothill wants to see him surpass this test and come at him! You can see it in his face when Luka finally takes a step! And in how he congratulates him!

And then he fucking shot him snxhsjksjsn

Boothill admires courage, and bravery, and decisiveness. He admires a person's ability to put their life on the line and still fight in the face of danger and overwhelming odds. Those are the things that catch his eye.

And Luka does kind of get there eventually, but it is a stalling, halting motion that gets him there, and he fell to pieces immediately afterwards. This is his first time with this, and he's still figuring it out.

Dan Heng, on the other hand.

Boothill's stand off with Dan Heng from 2.2 is so fucking far in the total opposite direction that it is HILARIOUS.

Boothill literally breaks into the Astral Express, ambushes Dan Heng, and Dan Heng still has the balls to not only demand info out of Boothill- like doesn't even ask nicely, demands it- he also just straight up calls Boothill a liar. Right to his face! And he still isn't nice about it!!

By the way, that entire conversation? This is how it takes place.

Boothill, phrasing!!

Boothill has him at gunpoint! Dan Heng does not have his weapon with him! He does not flinch, and even stands there with his arms crossed seeming simultaneously pissed and utterly unimpressed. He looks like he should be irritably tapping his foot and looking down his nose at him. Dan Heng could not give less of a shit.

For that matter, Dan Heng even turns his back and walks away from Boothill- right in the middle of him talking, too! Not a single attempt to be considerate of the man who could decide any moment he feels like decorating the wall with Dan Heng's brains.

Dan Heng is brave and courageous and completely unflappable in the face of danger. He is ruthless and decisive in how he conducts himself, even when staring down the barrel of a gun. And through his efforts in Penacony, he shows the ability to put his life on the line and fight through overwhelming odds to save his once-in-a-lifetime companions.

No wonder Dan Heng caught Boothill's eye the way he did, no wonder the two of them were working together and bantering not even minutes after Boothill pulled a gun on him haha

[cheeseburgersinparadise]

uhh uh really fuckin horny thought from last night I just want to get down:

supernatural creature with such addictive, delicious cum that makes you fat and empty headed so all you can do is beg to taste it while drooling like a dog

bye

[bad-holmes-impression]

If Varian and Ulla aren’t the creepiest parts of vat7k for you, you’re imagining the wrong show.