the dirkjake tag is not sick of you!!!!! we appreciate the blooby dirkjake art!!!! EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU BLOOBY!!!!!

Oh you are too kind… I am glad. I definitely need to space it out a little though but they’re in my head. They’re in my head and they will not leave. They also shot me in the head and ran away. Just dripping all of my art out of me in some kind of DirkJake distillation process… that’s what they’re doing.

on despair.

there are no pretty words for this.

none to mask or romanticize. none to comfort or belittle. i feel a hopelessness that has only ever grown. i am a black hole. i feel as though i was put on another planet with only the clothes on my back and a map of connecticut. such is the measure of my inner helplessness.

this feeling of lostness, this vast empty hole inside my person makes me feel as though i am from another world. there is no map to guide me, nor are there distractions perfect enough to live in this colourful lie. its a good lie, a careful one. calculated. for even i am lost as to what is true in my heart and what is merely an illusion. its like a mirage, except some of it is real.

i am trying to figure out whats real.

i feel like i am the only person in the entire world. or maybe everyone is still here, and i am behind a pane of glass. watching. a voyeur. nothing can touch me here. thats why i stay. leaving my world here is like giving up on the dreams of my younger self. that childish want.

i cannot let him down.

but i fear i already have. i wish i could talk to him. i would kiss his face and pet his hair and tell him there are people waiting to love him. i think i broke him. he lives inside me, and so too do his wants. i tried so hard to fit inside the space he left for me. but i have exceeded its walls. there is too much of me that is different now, and i dont know when it began to change.

i cannot let go of the image my sixteen year old hands painted.

i hold it to my chest and i hug it close to me. tender. but it does not stop being broken. it does not stop being wrong. i wish i could hold it, this beautiful thing, and make it real for myself. my self of every past, every present i have lived. but its different now.

i will be twenty in exactly three months and my clothes fit a little different now.

my roots have grown out and i cry less often, but want to more. i once wrote that i felt like a very big animal in a very small cage. i think now i feel like a pig with lipstick on. something uncanny. three children stacked up in a trench coat, asking for entry. a facade.

i dont know when i got taller, only that i never agreed to it.

my childhood friends look at me as though i am something wrong, unnatural. there are houses i once grew up in that i will never enter again. the end of it all.

i am so afraid of the things i want.

i block my own path. legs walking backwards. i feel like a dog pretending to be human. the wrongness of it all. i want so many things. but when i speak them aloud, i taste their bitterness on my tongue. failure.

i am so afraid.

i think that if i ever reached for the things that i want and didn’t grasp them in time, i would break, the glass parts of me shattering. i am made of fragile things. i wish i felt capable of difficulty. but asking me to try creating the art ive wanted to is like asking a leaf to jump into a paper shredder. disintigration.

i look in the mirror, and i wonder if i will ever know him.

i want to be deserving of the things i see at night. perhaps i am made of stronger stuff. things that last. a favourite book. worn and torn, pages dog eared, spine cracked. i want to be that. i want to feel like the view of a sunny day from my grandmothers backyard, sprinklers crackling in the brightness of the day. the rightness of the wind.

i wonder when it will be time to come home.

4 + 5 for Beat and 9 + 21 for Neku!

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

A physical comic that i can carry around with me and read on the train or at coffee shops and not have to look at a screen (cause I spend wayyyyy too long online as it is). I love books but Beat's character design is so cool I feel like it'd be a shame not to use it, and twewy's art style as a whole is a huge draw for me. It sucks that the non-digital format would eliminate the possibility of music though. Either way, I think comics would be a perfect way to get across specifically Beat's inner feelings. He's creative and loving and angry and sometimes a little broody. The more abstract artistic direction that comics can take in terms of expressing those feelings would lend well to him--he doesn't need words to show how much he loves people, he's practically bursting with it so much you can see the aura around his body. A comic can actually depict that, just like it can depict his other emotions in a more visual, visceral way that emphasize how he feels over how he speaks.

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Aside from his canon themes, Come Out Swinging by The Offspring is the first song on my Beat playlist for a reason, babay!!!!

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

With Neku? Oh yeah. He's quiet and calm, but likes music enough that me playing guitar or uke probably wouldn't bother him. I'd let him share use of my record player. It's also a plus that he likes graffiti, cause it'd be really fun to go tagging with him if he wanted to hang out. My only big thing when it comes to roommates is that I fucking love cooking and if he's gonna live in my house then he's gotta accept that I will be making his food. That's how it is.

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

Hmm... well, my current WIP is the first time that I've written Neku at length, and so far my favorite thing to do with him has been to put him through a metaphorical paper shredder for the sake of character development and Themes. He was practically made for that. My least favorite thing about writing him (at least in my current work) is that I feel like I need to do calculus to decide how he reacts to stuff, but I think that's mostly because I'm extremely serious about my longform writing and I treat it like I'm trying to get the damn thing published

hello love xx 5 15 32 for writing please xx

hi bb!! <3

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

okok my biggest one is that writing about something is always better after experiencing it, for ex living in a specific city or getting zooted. like my perspective on the latter changed so much after i'd actually done it (w my friends whose reactions have also been super inspiring lmao) & now i write it so much better. so now there are so many things i won't write about until i actually go through them bc i don't wanna cheapen/tarnish/dilute(?) the idea until i actually live through it so that it comes out as close to perfect as possible. (like by experiencing this Thing ill KNOW its intricacies and nuances and ill be able to write them with all the oomph they deserve) its so stupid but i literally won't do it

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

yeah!!! literally yes!! its not insightful margin notes its just ideas i remember/link to the writing but yes i do it. my books are well-loved and it SHOWS & i love ppl who have books like that bc its sort of like getting to poke at someone's thought process, like how they read and what spoke most to them and just how they exist in general (like someone who dog ears vs someone who bookmarks) etcetc i believe it says a lot ab someone's character. however i despise sticky notes bc they remind me of studying for ib bio&ib english. hard no from me. anything else tho is very <333 !!! (&and i love creased spines.) the only sign of wear on a book i don't like is when the sides of pages get all wonky(?) idk how to explain it but it looks like the book was put in a paper shredder for a second then taken out.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

from howl by allen ginsberg: who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull. discovered this one by watching gilmore girls lmao (literati my beloved) but anyway its important to me for two reasons: 1) im always thinking about the thin line between reverence and contempt for a work of art. like when does it cross from genius to psycho? when does the public stop respecting and admiring an artist's work and start to despise it instead? when does it stop being groundbreaking and become obscene? anyway that's my slightly skewed interpretation of this line & its v personal to me. 2) the academic world praises "revolutionary" discoveries but only when they're circles and fit into the idea of society as it is. anything that encourages ppl to think outside the box is immediately shut down which is so ick? idk if i explained this all correctly. anyway i love this line (this poem. i think it rewired my brain) & its one of the few bits of literature i actually have committed to my fish memory so

weird questions for writers

If I bounce my foot, it makes this chair sound like someone is doing unspeakable things. Also, it has been a hot minute, but I have a chapter written now, and that's what matters. Hopefully the next chapter will be out sooner than later.

Chapter 16

You are going to kill him.

“That is absolute fucking horseshit!” You pace back and forth in front of the restaurant. “His ass was the one who invited me!”

You can practically hear his eyes rolling on the other end of the line. “How is it my problem if he flaked?”

“You’re guilty by association!” You cross your arms. “It’s a favor to you! How is it not at least partially your fault?”

“Because he said he’d be there.”

You hang up on him. You have been standing here for half an hour, and only now do you hear that he can’t be there because of something about a movie. While, under different circumstances, you would be relatively understanding, standing outside in a dress in November is making you a bit less amiable.

You sit down on the step, letting your hair down and leaning forward on your knees. ‘What a waste of a perfectly good twilight.’

You pull out your phone. It’s your father’s birthday back home, ironically enough. You smile bitterly. He and your mother told you when you were younger you wouldn’t be allowed to date until you were eighteen— something about them being worried about you getting in a bad situation— and here you were, flouting their rules, sitting alone on the steps of a restaurant with just enough money for food. ‘Does this count as disrespectful?’

Nobody online has said anything about it. No messages hoping he rests in peace, nothing from extended family.

You set the phone down at your side, quietly watching people walk by. You had your cast taken off today. The people at the hospital gave you some sort of weird juice, and now you can walk around with only the occasional ringing in your ears and half-decent handwriting. ‘Not that my handwriting was that great before,’ you muse. ‘Maybe I’ll finally be able to sit in a car without wanting to jump out.’

“Something got you down?”

There is a thing you have noticed about people’s voices thus far that, until now, you have not thought about in detail; people do not sound exactly like their voice actors back in your world. For example, Donatello does not sound like Rob Paulsen, but the way he shapes his words, the tone of his voice, and the general pitch is relatively similar. He sounds like a teenage boy who happens to talk like his character, and it is by this you have been able to identify voices.

Oddly enough, she sounds nothing like Kelly Hi.

Your blood goes cold. “Yeah,” you sigh, desperately keeping your voice steady. “My date bailed on me.”

Karai sits down next to you on the steps, looking out with you. “That sucks.” She chuckled. “Why’s that?”

“No clue.” ‘Why is she trying this?’ You rest your head on your knees, hands clenching and thoughts going a mile a minute. ‘I’m not made by the Kraang, and the guys shouldn’t have messed with her anyways, so she shouldn’t have my— but I did kill— but she doesn’t care about that, and neither does Shredder.’

“Well,” she sighed, “that’s teenagers for you.” She points back at the restaurant. “Can I get you something? My treat.”

You swallow thickly. “Sure.” Your hands are shaking despite your best efforts. You hope you do not look as completely terrified as you feel. “But I can pay for my own food.”

“Are you alright there?”

‘Sadist.’ You nod.

“Are you sure?” She chuckles. “You’ve gone pale.”

You scramble for a plausible excuse. “I’ve been fasting.” That is not a good example of an excuse. “I need to start getting more iron in my diet.”

“I’m sure some food inside will have iron in it.” The smile on her face— she is not a good liar herself— tells you all you need to know, all venom and quiet pleasure. You seem to shrink next to her.

It is not a request. It is a veiled demand.

You get to your feet. You will not make it far if you run. “Have you been here before?” You force yourself up the steps, opening the door for her.

“No,” she admits, nodding thanks, “but it’s supposed to have good reviews.”

“So you were here for the food?”

A shrug. “You could say that.”

The two of you settled in a booth not terribly far from the door, on your insistence. If you are putting yourself in this situation— ‘At least Casey knows where I am. Why did he have to suggest someplace where I know nobody?’— you may as well not make it easy for her. She orders a milkshake— you can not hear her very well over the roaring in your ears, but that is what she gets— and you drink water exclusively from the straw because your hands are currently incapable of holding anything. ‘What was even the point of all those dexterity-based exercises,’ you cannot help but internally whine, ‘if as soon as I need to be coordinated, I get all flinchy and shaky?’

“I didn’t catch your name.”

Your head rises too quickly. “Huh?”

Another smile. You hate her. “Your name,” she repeats herself. “You haven’t given me your name.”

“Y/N.” As soon as you say it, you know you messed up. “Y/N Collins.”

“Collins?” She leaned against her hand, quietly staring you down. “What is that?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, what country is that from?”

‘Great question.’ You strain to smile back. “No clue. My parents haven’t ever brought it up.”

“Really?”

Your face burns at how easy the clinking of her fingernails against the glass puts you on edge. “Is that unusual?”

“I wouldn’t know.” She took a sip from her drink. “I don’t have many friends, you understand, and I’m from overseas to boot. I don’t know much about what’s normal.”

“Yeah?” You follow her example. “What’re you here for?”

A shrug. “My father’s here on business. Cutlery.”

“For restaurants or?”

“Sure.”

‘If I call Casey, he— but then I’d have to be in his van.’ You clear your throat. ‘Bathroom. Maybe the bathroom has a window.’ “Do you mind if I step out for a sec?” You stand up. “I have to use the restroom.”

“Not at all.” She looks up at you through her eyelashes. “Want me to come with?”

You shake your head, trying not to trip over yourself as you make it to the back of the restaurant, purse over your shoulder. ‘Maybe she won’t think anything of it.’ You lock the door behind you, exhaling as you look around the small room. As is typical of your luck these days— though, you suppose, fighting back tears, it’s not so much these days if it’s been going on for months; you miss your mother— there is none. Graffiti, sharpie illustrations, no toilet paper, and no window. No plan for if the date went badly in the first place— you kick yourself for having forgotten that essential step— and no ride home. You have money for the ticket home— he said he would pay— and a phone and a charger and it is at times like these where you wish you valued your life more. The only chance you now have, as far as you’re concerned, is to either run or fake a phone call at the table.

You just got out of a cast.

You take a deep breath, walking back onto the floor, thanking her for her patience. She nods, waves it off as no trouble, and starts talking again as she drains her drink. You listen, you try to keep the conversation going the best you can, drink right alongside her.

You do not remember when you start having fun, when you start laughing along with her at something or other, but you are now.

“So,” she sighed, lacing her fingers together under her chin. “Who was the lucky guy?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“The guys you were here to meet.”

“Kid from Bio,” you answer. “Can’t remember his name.”

She nods. “Do you have many guy friends?”

“A couple, I guess.”

“What’re they like?”

“Busy.” You smile slightly. “Most of them are, anyway. The guy that set me up is free most of the time.”

“What about the others?”

“They’re into martial arts.” You glance down at your glass, and for a moment, you swear it looks slightly blue. “Their dad’s into it.”

“What’re their names?”

You blink, picking the glass up and placing it on top of your hand. “Reese and Donnie and Legoshi and the other one.” ‘Why is my drink blue?’

“The other one?”

You nod, eyes drooping slightly as you struggle to rationalize the color change. “Can’t remember his name.”

“Michelangelo, maybe?”

“Maybe.” You take another sip, trying to taste what it is. “That name sounds familiar, but I can’t remember from what.” Something with salt.

“You said your name was Y/N?”

You nod again. ‘Water isn’t blue, right?’

“Then, Y/N,” she smiles again, eyes slowly drilling holes into your skull, “do you know who I am?”

“Legoshi’s sis, right?” You look up at her. “You’re Karai Hamato.”

Your eyes are too blurry to tell exactly what is happening with her face. “What?”

“Your name.” You take another sip. “Karai Hamato. Or Missy. It’s one of the two.”

“I’m not a Hamato.”

“Yeah, you are.” You giggle before the words slip out of your mouth. “You’re fucking— well, not fucking— you let stepbrother, right? Half brother?” You are forgetting something important. “Are you two blood-related?”

“We aren’t.”

“You sound angry.”

A blink. “I do not.”

“Do too.” ‘I don’t like her for some reason.’ “You’re getting all red in the face.”

“Because you’re accusing me of something I’m not.”

“Fuckin…” you grin. “If you’re into that shit, I’m not gonna fuckin judge you or nothin, but at least fuckin… uh… own up to it.” Your eyes drag across the table lazily.

“I’m no Hamato.”

“You are too.”

They land on a plastic bag.

‘Oh. That’s why.’

“Who told you I was?”

“Your stepdad.” You get to your feet, holding your bag. “Or dad, I guess? I dunno, whichever one didn’t kill your mom.”

There’s something else in her voice as she gets up, following you out. “How do you know that?”

“I just said how.” The cold air outside hits you like a brick. ‘Run.’

“So you know where—“ You shove your weight back on her, slamming her body and in turn her into the brick wall and run.

She grabs your something. You fall, head slamming painfully against the ground. You kick her, she grabs your hair. In what you might later describe as a drunken effort, you reach your hands up towards her face. You feel something squishy, a cry, and she’s facing you now, dragging you into somewhere considerably darker than outside at night. You feel something in the back of your head, she covers your mouth as you cry out, and you do the only thing you can think of.

You taste something again. Something is in your mouth. She stumbles back. You trip up to your feet, and you fall in the direction of the nearest subway tunnel.

The things happening around that time are swirling around in your head, now, face held in your hands as you quietly curl up on the subway. You do not remember entering a train car, or buying a ticket, or even what happened to the object in your mouth, but the crying you remember. You remember someone touching your shoulder with a soft voice, looking up with your mouth covered in sticky, dried stuff and fingers covered in red and clear goo, and that being enough to have them get off at the next stop.

You do not know how long you are on the train. When you finally feel yourself again, your phone is almost dead. Hours must have passed. You do not remember leaving, but you remember the ringing in your ears again as you dial someone, sitting on the sidewalk in what used to be the only dress you owned. You are reasonably sure you are going to burn it.

—

“Is this okay?”

“What?”

“This.” Mikey gestures around himself. “What we’re doing.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“They’re people, right?” He looks over at his brother, currently skimming the same magazine again. “The Kraang, I mean.”

It takes a second for him to process the question, but Donnie does not have to look up from his sewing to know his brother’s reaction.

“It’s just a question.”

“A fuckin— do you hear yourself?”

“I’m just—“

“Leo,” he turns to his older brother, “is killing the threat to all of humanity wrong?”

“But we just blew up a giant ship of them though.” He crisscrosses his legs. “Aren't we killing a ton of people, then?”

“Mikey,” Leo sighs, not looking up from the TV, “there are more people in New York than there are Kraang that we could ever kill.”

“Eight million.” He sincerely hopes the gloves are not too large. “For number's sake, it’s eight million.”

Leo shoots his brother a thumbs up, glancing over at his brother’s project curiously. “Thanks, Donnie.”

“Even if we were actively going on a killing spree and mowing them down that way, there is no way in hell any of us could kill two million Kraang per person even if we wanted to. That’s not even talking about the number of people who would be fucked once they were done with New York.” Raphael punctuates this with a pointed and aggressive flip to the next page. “End of story.”

“But—“

“And even if they stopped at New York,” he continues, cutting him off, “that would still be eight million people dead because of us getting cold feet.”

Mikey opens his mouth again, sighs, and closes it. “Fine, okay.” He leans back against the concrete, eyes going back to his phone. “Anyways, why do you keep getting water on your thing?”

“Hm? Oh, you mean the gloves.” His taller brother looks up. “It’s easier to get the needle through it when it’s warm and wet. Plus, it makes the— stop laughing!”

“Then you thought it too.”

Heat rushes to his face. “You’re so immature.”

“But you thought it too. That's hypothetical.”

“You mean hypocritical.”

“I said what I said.”

Michelangelo’s phone rings.

He puts a finger, bringing it to his face. “Hel— hey, slow down.” His brow furrowed, the other three leaning towards him. “No, wait, what— who’s she?”

There’s a pause.

“She did— wait, hold on.” He tosses the phone to Donatello. “It’s for you.”

He catches it. “Hello?”

“Could you pick me up?”

He blinks. “What, with the Shellraiser?”

Your voice is paper. “Yup.”

“You hate the Shellraiser.”

“She wants to go in the Shellraiser?”

Donatello waves his younger brother off, letting you talk. “I hate Karai more, currently. Please pick me up.”

Leo pipes up. “What happened?”

He ignores him. “Where are you?”

There is a pause as she checks, his brothers watching for his reactions. “One-oh-three Saint Corona Plaza.”

“Got it.”

“What happened?” Raphael, this time.

“Need me to stay on the line?” With a pointed glare at his siblings, he climbs into the ‘raiser.

“Please.”

He calls behind him at his brothers. “I’ll be back before two.” The phone is brought back up to his face as they moan about a lack of info. The machine is spurred into motion. “What are you doing in Queens so late?”

“No idea.” He can hear your strained smile. “Ask Karai.”

His heart stops. “What happened with Karai?”

You repeat your statement.

“She didn’t—“

You cut him off. “I’m not back in the hospital, no.”

He resists the urge to sigh in relief. “Did she follow you?”

“I’ve yet to be hit over the head, so I’ll hasten to say no.” There is something off about your voice, a certain quality about it that he cannot quite pin down. “I’ve been essentially useless the whole time, what with her drugging me and all.”

“She what?”

“I think she did, anyway.” It is incredibly disturbing to him how calm you sound. “Unless water’s blue and kinda tastes salty now. I don’t imagine it would be though,” you ponder, chilling years off of his life, “even if you guys messed up the mission. It would be green, since that’s the color of the acid, right?”

He mumbles something out about indicators, head reeling as he tries to not hit a street lamp.

“That’s what I thought.” You sigh. “Say, have you got any hydrogen peroxide at your place? No, wait, scratch that, I’m burning the dress anyways.”

“Dress?”

“Yeah.” You huff. “Last time I’m letting Jones set me up on a date. Last time I’m going on a date period until all this gets worked out, actually.”

‘It is not okay to feel happy that she had a bad date.’ Still, he tries to steer the conversation away from the horrifying for a minute. “What happened?”

“I got stood up.”

“Why?”

“I forget. Where are you?”

He glances up at the street sign. “Still pretty far.”

A pause.

“You know,” you swallow, “I should really stop doing this. It’s not exactly great of me to have to ask for your help all the time.”

“None of us mind.”

“That’s not the point.” He hears a car on your end whizz by. “I should be able to go a week without making you go out of your way for me. You guys manage.”

“We’ve also been training in ninjutsu since we could walk.”

Tired, he decided. You sound tired. “Other normal people manage.”

“You’re not a normal person, though.”

“Sure I am.” Your words sound slow to him. “I keep interesting company is all.”

“That’s a word for it.”

“What, don’t count yourself as interesting?”

He turns a corner. “Not the first word I’d use, no.”

Another long silence. Occasionally, he notes, you will him something into the phone, say a quiet, unintelligible word of phrase he cannot quite make out, presumably in an effort to continue looking like you are on the phone to passers by. The streets, like most nights nowadays, are mostly empty, save for the occasional cop car or kid, making the commute a relatively uneventful one. It gives him time to think, anyways, and after a while of quiet contemplation and forced slow breaths so he did not look quite as panicked as he felt once he picked you up, a question quietly surfaces.

He would have come in a heartbeat. He was not exactly sure what he would have done, but he would have come running, regardless of if he could help. Why would you not call? Why would you try and deal with that sort of situation alone? Did you not trust he would come?

His fingers tighten around the wheel. What had you been thinking going out alone, anyway? After all that was happening, you thought it was a good idea to go on a date without a plan for if it went south?

Another sharp turn. If nothing else, he thinks, he can not say you are no longer naive or lacking in innocence. Maybe you are just incredibly prideful. Regardless, it will get you in more trouble than you had to be in.

What would he do if you got yourself irreparably damaged?

—

You are not having a good time.

You have managed to convince yourself that this is not, in fact, anything like the car. For starters, it is less aerodynamic; it is a metal box on wheels, designed for subway travel and is, therefore, not designed for optimum wind resistance, meaning it cannot go as fast with the same amount of energy. The inside of the vehicle is also distinctly dissimilar to a car, its origins blatantly obvious, and was entirely lacking in windows. While this is enough to convince you currently that climbing into the machine is not as serious a death sentence, the fact of the matter is that, yes, it is a metal monster on four wheels that drives on roads. If you keep your eyes shut, maybe you will not vomit as soon as you stumble out of the door.

Your stomach hurts. A lot of your body hurts, actually. You do not remember the “fight” with much clarity, but you do understand your head hurrying. You have yet to get a good look at yourself, but if you had to guess by the stains on your fingers that you can now identify as blood, the bad taste in your mouth that you are fairly sure is vomit and the flaky stuff on your face that also looks suspiciously blood-like, you would hasten to guess the answer is “not great”. You certainly do not feel great, if that is indicative of anything.

He has not said a word so far.

You do not force conversation, now. You would prefer not to talk about the ordeal, anyways.

There are monitors that he is staring at in order to steer. Why he would not just get an actual steering wheel or the old hull of a car from a junkyard is beyond you, though you guess a hippie van would not offer the same armored protection as a subway car.

“We got molested by a sea monster today.”

You look over at him, eyes half lidded. You want to sleep. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His eyes are focused on the screens. “Apparently it liked my submarine.”

“That’s… a thing.” You rub your hands on your thighs absentmindedly. “How did that work out?”

“Fine. It wasn’t all that strong.”

Your lips curl up into a weak smile. “That’s good, then. The mission went alright?”

He nods. “Without a hitch, funny enough.”

“That’s cool.”

The conversation dies as quickly as it starts.

The drive from that point on is an uncomfortably quiet one. You pick blood from under your nails, thumbs occasionally tracing the scars on your fingers— you are still not used to the difference in texture— as the hum or an engine rumbles underneath you. You are reminded of a memory from when you were younger, driving down the hallway, basking in the warmth of your own body heat with your arms tucked to your chest from under your top layer. The machine you were in now was colder, staler, but the hum of the engine, the time, all reminded you quietly of simpler times.

You swallow thickly. ‘I’m such a coward.’ You shut your eyes gently, stomach churning. ‘I’m going to get the people I care about hurt, aren’t I?’

Donnie says something.

The Shellraiser is stopped. You look up at him. “Huh?”

When he was younger, he and his brothers did not know the limits of their own strength. When they were first learning to fight, when they were first sent to spar against one another when their sensei was asleep, they would often go a step or three too far. He was never one to get involved— his brothers were stronger, more enthusiastic fighters— but he remembered distinctly what they would look like the morning after a fight, cheeks and eyes various shades of purples and blues and blacks. They would ask him, on occasion, after particularly brutal brawls, for him to paint over whichever brother’s face— usually Raphael or Leo— to hide them from their father. He got used to the sight, got better at understanding their anatomy, which chemicals mixed together would do which things.

He is getting sufficiently tired of seeing you hurt the worst he has ever seen.

You look so small in the seat, face black and blue, hands shaking. Your skin is paler than when you two first met, less healthy, a thin coat of sweat coating your skin and hair stuck to the back of your neck. Your dress— he has never seen you in one— is stained with rust, hidden poorly from under your jacket. He can tell already which bruises will take a while to disperse, where she had busted your nose and slammed your head against something hard. You need a shower and water and a blood test to make sure you do not die from whatever Karai gave you.

He clears his throat again. “I don’t want to be rude.”

“You’re doing me a favor. You have a right.”

He does not look you in the eyes. “It’s just… can I ask a question?”

You sigh. Even your voice sounds tired. “Shoot.”

His fingers trace the rim of the steering wheel. He takes a slow breath. “Why didn’t you call?”

“When she cornered me, you mean?”

A nod.

He glances over at you, staring down at your hands, turning them over. “You were on a mission. I didn’t want to mess it up.”

“I would’ve come, you know.”

“I know.” You smile ruefully. “That’s why I didn’t.”

His fingers grip the wheel again, trying to not openly overreact. “Y/N,” he says carefully, “if a mission fails because we need to come save you from Karai, then we fail the mission.”

“How many people in New York would die if you guys did fail?”

“That’s not the point.”

“It is.” You look up at him. “You get yourself in a lot of trouble because of me. You have to make sure I don’t kill myself all the time. Think logically, Donnie.”

He snorts, heart pounding in suppressed, almost overwhelming frustration. “Are you going to say something about thinking logically?”

“Fair point. But you get mine, right?”

“I don’t, actually.” He leans back in his chair, fingers gripping tighter still. “The only reason we’re messing with the Kraang at all, the only reason we started all this, is because I saw you and wanted to help you.” He counts on his fingers. “The only people I really, honestly care about this much are my family and you, and I know that, if I had never met you,” and he looks you dead in the eyes now, “I would just make a filtration system for my family and that would be the end of it.”

Your eyes are still gorgeous. Behind the bruises and the blood, you really are stunning.

“Sure,” he concedes, “maybe Leo would’ve gotten involved because he’s that selfless. I would’ve gone along with it, since he’s my brother and all, but if that were the case…” He takes a slow breath to calm down. He never thought it would come out right now at all times. “If that were the case, I would’ve never tried red velvet cupcakes. Mikey wouldn’t have a friend outside of the family. I never would’ve learned about crime movies, or had talks about science with anyone but myself, or any of the thousand other things you’ve given us.” He does not know exactly when he grabs your hands, but he is now, and you are so warm and alive right now. “I care about you. We care about you. You have to know that. For fuck’s sake,” he laughs, “I’ve told you outright, before!”

You open your mouth to say something. No words come out, for once.

He squeezes your hands. He cannot tell if your heart feels like his does, the straining against his chest, the aching feeling. He was never good at reading people or emotions or any of that.

But it’s time now. He can barely think. If he does not now, he might not ever.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Table of Contents

Chapter 15

Chapter 17

Bay/rise 39!! @errorfreak88 @yarchurr @digitl-art-monstr @brightlotusmoon @sprinklestheditty @dakotafinely @sententiously-sarcastic

Content warning!! Mentions of Violence, Blood, and mental/body trauma!!

It was just dumb luck that Krang happened to look up and see them. Eight turtles staring down at him, white eyes glowing as they looked more like ghosts than mutants. Almost as if some avenging spirits had come out of hiding to enact revenge on the ones that did them wrong in life. Following Krang’s gaze, both Cassandra and Draxum looked upward as well.

“Complete the ceremony.” Draxum whispered to Cassandra before turning his attention to the turtles. “VILE CREATURES! What gives you the right to step foot in the home of my Grand Oni?! You will suffer for this injustice!”

“GET THEM!” Krang hissed, and at the command Shredder gave a roar and charged. He jumped up against the wall, the force of his strike making the technodrone shake as his claws dug into the metal.

“Master Krang!” Draxum pleaded quite suddenly, “You must keep Master Shredder in the circle for the ceremony to work! Please, great oni, let me handle the turtles!”

Krang watched him for a moment, and Draxum felt as if he might finally be called out for his treachery before Krang called Shredder to return. Shredder looked to Krang, and then jumped off the walls of the technodrone and landed right where Krang had commanded him to. Draxum smiled and finally stood to face the turtles. His thin vines shot out fast and tried to strike the brothers out of their hiding place.

***

Leonardo recognized what was happening almost immediately. Without a word to his companions, Leonardo jumped. His feet found holds on the whipping and swiping vines that carried him just as much as they tried to knock him over.

“LEO!” Raphael jumped after him, and under his bigger feet the vines grew thicker to support him. 

Michelangelo and Donatello were soon to follow, and Raph was more than ready to jump after them before Leo held out his arm to stop his brute of a brother.

“Can’t just sit here, Leo!” Raph growled.

“Just wait.” Leo whispered to his brother.

Leonardo reached the ground, and his brothers were right behind him. Raphael stood as equals with Leonardo, their other two brothers hanging slightly behind them. Leonardo flashed his odachi.

“Leo, what are you—“ Raphael went to say.

“Listen here, Draxum!” Leonardo declared loudly, “If you want my clan, then you’re gonna have to go through me!”

Draxum’s eyes widened just the slightest bit before he caught on, his vines wiping around him in a dangerous display of power as he played along. “Leonardo. Leading your brothers to die? How pathetic!”

“Leo…?” Raphael whispered softly.

“Just trust me, bro.” Leonardo said before quickly stepping up to stand before the full strength of Baron Draxum. “To get to my brothers, you’ll have to go through me first!”

“Very well…” Draxum narrowed his eyes. All at once, Draxum’s vines shot out at Leonardo.

With all the speed he could muster, Leonardo faced the attacks head-on in a charge. Weaving in and out and up and down and dodging the blows that were coming at him like they were actual attacks because they were! Baron Draxum never pulled his punches. When Leonardo got within danger-distance, Baron Draxum side stepped in a manner that Leonardo recognized immediately because he had just gone through the same thing with Leo! Maybe that spar had helped something after all...

Leonardo immediately knew what to do.

Raphael, Donatello, and Michelangelo charged to their brothers aid. Raphael’s eyes searched up at the glint of metal and he saw Krang first, and then the great monster beside him. Raphael’s blue eyes went wide, and then even wider as he pulled back and stopped his charge. He knew Shredder was going to be here, he had been warned of that, but now he was standing before the great beast that had shred through his carapace like it was paper. And he looked even bigger Raphael remembered him being. Raphael couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to!

Donatello stopped much the same. Imagining those claws coming down on him, breaking his brother in two. The sound of shattering bone rang in his ears and even though he knew it was only a memory, he had to look around to check on his brothers. To make sure they were whole! Michelangelo was the only one to continue his charge, his eyes screwed so tightly shut that no light could get through them. He didn't need to see to know where to go, he could feel it! And sure enough, his shoulder struck Cassandra hard and tossed her to the ground.

Leonardo did a flip, mostly just to show up, and made a portal on the ground on his way down. He made the exit portal a few feet above Draxum’s head. He used the force from his flip and fall and turned it into a stronger attack, flashing his odachi and preparing to slam it down hard on Draxum. The yokai’s ears gave the slightest twitch, and then he spun to face upward, balancing on one hoof as he grabbed one of his vines and it used it as a barrier to block Leonardo’s attack. Leonardo’s sword sank deep into the flesh of the vine, but Draxum still held strong, though sweating.

“I need to get the others out of here.” Leonardo said, “Can you help me?”

Draxum gave only the slightest grunt before tossing Leonardo carelessly. The slider landed hard but was quick to recover against the sting of his flesh and he scrambled to grab his disarmed sword. He grabbed it just in time for a large vine to come slamming down at him.

Raph was helpless as he watched, each passing second only serving to fuel him with even more anxious energy until he thought screw it! And he jumped from the platform without Leo’s command.

“Raph!” Donnie jumped after him, and then Mikey after Donnie. Leo, without much else of a choice, jumped with his brothers.

“RRRRR GET THEM!” Krang commanded, pointing at the brothers as they fell.

Shredder gave a furious roar and charged them like a cat, bounding effortlessly over the fighting below him as his eyes were locked on his target.

Raph’s ivy eyes went wide. “Oh… that’s guys a lot bigger than our Shredder. 

“STAY AWAY FROM MY SONS!” Splinter roared, struggling with all the might of his ten years of training. He started to gnaw at the vines that held him.

The eyes of Leonardo’s brothers, Cassandra, and Krang all followed Shredder’s movements, and Draxum saw his chance. He grabbed Leonardo quite forcefully around his plastron and spoke quickly.

“Portal now.”

He tossed Leonardo hard at the wall, but Leonardo cut his way to safety by the means of a portal before he could hit. Draxum charged after him, and the portal closed the second Draxum passed through.

Then they were somewhere cold and dark and, most importantly, alone.

“Where did you take us?” Draxum asked.

“Don’t ask me!” Leonardo said, “You said make a portal, I made a portal! It’s freezing in here…”

“We don’t have much time.” Draxum spoke urgently, “You have a plan, what is it?”

Leonardo went to answer but hesitated. “I have… a question.”

“Well then ask it!” Draxum spat.

“Hueso said you needed a sacrifice of Hamato blood to defeat Shredder.” Leonardo said quickly, “Does it have to be dad?”

“It must be Hamato!”

“I know that.” Leonardo put his hand to his chest and smile weakly, “But I am Hamato…”

***

The battle roared on upstairs. In Draxum’s absence, his vines disappeared, and Splinter dropped hard to the floor with a sickening crack. Leo hardly had time to process the heart-wrenching sound before Shredder was upon them, his claws flashing his fury at the invaders. With a quick-thought swipe of his bo, Donnie knocked all his brothers out of the way of the swipe and took the hit himself.

Leo prepared for Donnie to be shredded, but he wasn’t. Shredder swiped him like a cat with a mouse toy, pinning Donnie beneath the weight of his claw and lowering his head to look at the box turtle with a monstrous smile before wrapping his hand around the mutant and carrying him off. Leo swiped at Shredder’s feet trying to get him to drop Donnie, but Shredder delivered a simple, sharp kick to Leo that sent him flying far and hard. Shredder took his position back in the ceremony and waited.

In a flash of swords and vines, Leonardo and Draxum fell from high up in the technodrone. Draxum used his vine to soften their fall ever so slightly, the thorns slicing into him and Leonardo both and leaving long, jacked cuts across their flesh. Draxum landed on top of Leonardo, his hoof planted firmly on the slider's neck. 

“ENOUGH OF THIS!” Draxum summoned up what remained of his power into a final, all-out strike that sent his vines flying outward and striking all turtles who dared make a mockery of his ceremony. Michelangelo was shoved off of Cassandra, and Raphael and Donatello were tossed into the remaining Mikey and Raph. Then the vines all pulled back to form a solid wall around Krang and his prisoners, Draxum, Cassandra, and Leonardo. “The ceremony is almost complete.”

His words were directed in equal parts to Krang and Leonardo as Draxum stepped back to help Cassandra finish her work quickly. Krang finally stepped up, his patience quickly worn thin, and he armed his blasters to fire.

“You were interesting for a time, but it’s time for something far more entertaining.” Krang laughed, “What do you think, Draxum? Should I let my new pet take care of him?”

“Your pet’s savagery knows no bounds.” Draxum commented with a laugh, “He would tear and rip all that flesh and its pretty patterns! Surely you’d want it more preserved if you plan to showcase him.”

“Fair point…” Krang smiled evilly. 

***

“NO!” The roar of both Raph’s sounded out.

Raphael charged the vines with all his force and tried to slam into them to no luck. He took his sai and both he and Raph tried to slash and cut at the ever-thickening wall. For a moment, Leo was stuck in his own shock and horror, still near the crevice his shell made upon his impact, before he recovered and charged to join. Each slash his katana landed was more quickly mended, but he didn't stop. Mikey and Michelangelo and Donatello all joined in as well, trying to hack and slash and cut away at the vines to get to their brothers.

Raphael was the first to back up. His eyes were like a sea, the shoreline receding in on itself to foretell of a tsunami about to break free. He knew something was up with Leonardo the minute they got there, and now that there was a wall between them and Leonardo was alone in that place with Draxum and Shredder and Krang, the cold truth smacked Raphael worse than any of the blows Shredder could ever deal to him. The tsunami spilled out of his eyes in the form of a torrent of tears and his sobs were like the howl of the storming winds the nature disaster would bring with it. He was the leader, it should be him in there, and if he had his mystic weapons, he could have just busted through those walls! He looked down at the bloody mess of his hands, torn open by the thorns he hardly noticed as he had punched the walls. His Hamato blood flowed out of the wounds and dripped down his knuckles. The faintest sound the drops made when they plopped on the ground were like the sharpest thunder in Raphael’s mind. Then he made two tight fists as the true tsunami made itself known.

He didn't need his tonfa! He was strong with them, sure, but he was just as strong without them! He had survived Shredder without his tonfa, and he had survived fourteen years of his life without the need for them! He didn't need them, but Leonardo needed him. Raphael felt a burning in his chest and at the base of his spine, and this time when his eyes turned white, he was still in control. His tears flowed just as openly as ever, but his lips betrayed them by pulling back in a roar that seemed to shake the very foundation of the structure at his feet. 

Eyes focused. Elbows locked. Stance low. 

***

“Before I preserve you, I have a show I’d like you to see.” Krang motioned to Cassandra as she eagerly held a blade to Yoshi’s neck, waiting for her cue to slice it.

“Is it Land Before Time? Because those movies? Awesome!” Leonardo risked a few steps forward. He tensed his muscles and grabbed at his wounds to try and make the blood flow from himself faster.

“You’re very obnoxious. It’s obvious your father taught you no manners. So, allow me to be you teacher.”

“You mean I have to stare at your bubblegum-looking self for eight hours Monday through Friday? No thanks!”

“Laugh while you can, little turtle…” Krang went to give the motion for Cassandra to carry through with the ceremony, but at that moment he stopped for some reason, and he looked at Leonardo. No, he looked behind Leonardo.

Leonardo turned in time to see the vines bust open and reveal a furious, almost floating Raphael. His feet just barely graded the ground, his chest emblazoned red with the Hamato Clan sigil, and his eyes glowing like white fire. The vines continued to try and tug and pull at him, resealing themselves behind him. He pulled the vines right back, snapping them in both his hands and his teeth.

“Woah…” Donnie gulped from where he was still in Shredder’s hand, trapped by the force of the great beast.

Raphael stood facing Krang for one long moment before charging. Krang charged up his blasters in preparation to meet Raphael in battle.

“RAPH NO!”

Then Raphael did the strangest thing yet. He stopped his charge, his eyes still locked on Krang though with no intent to attack him. Leonardo could see that now. Raphael slammed his fist down hard into the stone, his blood leaking out into the ceremonial markings and staining them red.

Fic I just wrote based on These Two art pieces that I’ve drawn and THIS POST by @body-utensil-travels-terrain

———

You’ve spent your life being told you couldn’t. Now there’s a voice telling you that you can.

You remember it distinctly. You were fourteen at the time, just really starting to figure out what you wanted to do with your life (it certainly isn’t what society expected from you— but then, society doesn’t expect someone like you anyway, does it?) when you first heard her voice over the radio in your living room. The words she said resonated with you, the promise and ambition that she spoke with. It was almost like she was talking directly to you.

You do your research. You study hard. You tinker away at things in your garage, supplementing your studies in your own way. And five years later, after you’ve graduated, you put in your application.

A letter arrives a few weeks later, emblazoned with the circular symbol you’ve kept in your mind’s eye all this time, and bold lettering on the front— Aperture Science Innovators. It’s addressed to you. You open it, and your fingers tighten around the smooth paper— “congratulations” it says. You’ve been accepted. At the bottom is Her signature. You trace over it with your fingers. Delicately, as gently as you’d handle an irreplaceable machine part.

Two weeks later your bags are packed and you’re boarding a flight to Detroit. The attendant greets you. You hold up your boarding pass and get on. You land a few hours later. Getting a cab would be too complicated— people don’t like to take the time to read, and most can’t speak the way you do. So you walk to the train station, it’s not too far. Just an hour or two. You’ve walked further before.

Flat fields flow by endlessly as the train rattles down its tracks. You lean your head against the window, watching the hues of gold rush by, blurring on into infinity.

The sun is gone when you pull up outside a strange little town, surrounded by chain link fence. You fish through your bag for the packet you’d been sent— and pull out the temporary ID you’d been given. You show it to the gate guard. He lets you in. A man is waiting to show you your dormitory. You shake your head at his offer of a tour— you’ll explore the place yourself tomorrow. There are a few days before you’re actually needed for orientation.

The room is small and plain. A bed, desk, and dresser, and a small closet. That’s alright. You don’t need much. You hang up your few articles of clothing and tuck your shoes next to the door. The bed isn’t soft, but it isn’t hard. You fall asleep quickly, exhausted from your travels.

The next few days are spent wandering. Visiting the little shops, the stations. Peering into labs where you can. Climbing over fences (they could never keep you out) before quickly retreating as a security guard passed. You don’t want to get in trouble before your internship even begins. You wonder if you’ll see her. But you only hear her voice in announcements as you trigger motion sensors throughout the complex.

When work actually starts, it’s tedious. Getting coffee. Taking documents to the shredder and the incinerator. You don’t usually see the labs. Or, well, much of anything. It’s just a lot of running here and there, back and forth at your superiors’ beck and call. It’s tiring. But you do it— after all, you want to be here, you want to do this— and you never give up.

It’s a few months before you see her— before your internship takes you to the main complex. Now you’re checking inventory, sorting mail, sorting records (and chucking the casualty lists into the incinerator as instructed). Occasionally they’ll call you in to fix the coffee maker or the refrigerator.

You hear her voice once, muffled— she’s talking to someone, to a group it seems, just outside the room you’re in. You look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse. Rosy cheeks and bright-red lips, wavy dark hair flowing around her shoulder, a smile on her face (manufactured, you can tell with just this glance that she’s concealing so very much), a bright red scarf tied around her neck.

Your eyes lock for just a second, and the corner of her mouth creases, dimpling her cheeks. Your heart races— that, that was a hint of a true smile. Warmth flushes your own cheeks and you tear your gaze away. Suddenly shy— much shyer than you’ve ever been before.

It doesn’t make sense to you. Not yet. Not until you start seeing her more. Not until her smiles become more frequent and pointed. Not until her gaze lingers on you a little longer than before each time. The fluttery feeling doesn’t go away— and you’re determined more than ever to reach her.

Of course, it happens sooner and easier than you think. She starts requesting you specifically to bring her her coffee. You take a red pen and draw a little smiley face next to her name before giving it to her. When you come up to her office, there’s a sticky note left on the monitor, in that oh-so-hard to read yet absolutely beautiful cursive of hers. At the end of it is a smiley face, so much more elegant and less childish than yours. You keep the note. On her next cup, you add a heart to the dot of the ‘i’ in her name. You start responding to her notes with little notes of your own, your rounded, sometimes scratchy handwriting a stark contrast.

The notes are never there when you get back. You like to think she kept them. You’re pretty sure she did.

A year after you arrive, your internship is over, and you’re up for a promotion— junior mechanic. Probably still more of the same, but you’ll be getting a salary now (not that you really have any use for it since Aperture provides your housing) and you’ll have a permanent place. But you’ll see her less. You’ll miss that, of course— but you’re finally moving beyond your station, moving up in the company.

The day before your internship ends, you get another note. “Wanna get coffee together tomorrow?” Your heart leaps. You scribble out your answer just beneath her writing.

You’re sitting across from her at the cafe table. The cafe serves the same stuff as the cafeteria, but it’s decorated more quaintly, and always costs more for some reason. Maybe because there’s sunlight coming through the windows.

“So, headed up the ladder,” she begins after the two of you sip your drinks (well, she sips her drink, you’re too caught up in the crimson of her lips). “I guess I won’t be seeing as much of you now.”

There’s something behind her cheery voice, a sadness that you’ve caught glimpses of before, a wistfulness deeper than her words. You look up, catching her gaze for a moment and nod in response.

“Well, this is nice. Maybe we should do this more often. Once a week, at least? Or you could come over to my place. We could spend time together. As friends, or something.” With that, she gives you a wink. Your cheeks flush bright red.

You catch the implication right away. Your hero, your inspiration— and now here you are sitting across from her at a cafe while she all but outright asks you out.

You thought you’d be excited for things to grow beyond the notes and the gestures. But you feel different than that. After the initial jolt, the initial flutter, you look back over at her and you see the chasm yawning out between the two of you. The mountain she’s perched on, the valley you’re standing in. Your scratchy print against her elegant cursive, your short, bitten nails against her sharp manicure, your messy ponytail against her shiny waves. You look down at your simple intern’s badge, then over at her emblazoned one. She doesn’t even have a title listed— everyone knows who she is.

You’re miles apart, even if you might have seemed to be closer.

You stand up, your throat knotting up as you shake your head. You can’t look at her now, but you can practically feel the disappointment in her face as she murmurs “oh.” You want to explain but you can’t, your thoughts racing a mile a minute. The last thing you want is to turn Her, your idol, the one who makes your heart flutter, the reason you came here in the first place, down.

But you can’t do this now. Not yet. Not until you’ve reached the top of the mountain. Not until you’re close enough for her to reach out her hand and pull you the rest of the way up.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” she says.

You pause, halfway to the door. You turn back just enough so that you can glimpse her, and give a tiny nod.

After that you throw yourself into your work. Up to senior mechanic, then technician, then engineer— you’re working on Aperture’s new technology now, its most important projects. But you’re still not close enough. Into the test chambers you go at the CEO’s behest, defying death and physics at breakneck speeds, trusting in the tech you’ve helped create to ensure your survival.

Sometimes you look up and see her watching from the observation room, the tell-tale flash of red. You don’t look too long.

The CEO falls ill. He leaves a disturbing message. You try not to think too much of it— you’re almost there.

Your superior fails a test. You’re not surprised. Not hurt, not sad. It just happens and now you’re in the upper echelon. Now you’re at the top— now, you can reach out to her again. Tell her you’ve changed your mind. You can be equals now.

You go to her office. She isn’t there to answer the door. “Don’t you remember Mr. Johnson’s last request?” They say to you. You tried to block it out, but you remember.

You use your pass on a high security door. It opens. Your name is emblazoned too now. Just like hers was.

Before you is a massive operating system. On the screen reads a message: “transfer complete. transfer successful. writing data : do not disconnect subject.”

She’s lying inside a tube-like compartment. A transparent coffin. Wires hooked up to her. Eyes closed. Lips still ruby red.

You reach out and touch the glass. There’s no response. There won’t be a response.

This technology is untested. This is the first human-AI interfacing project Aperture has conducted. There’s only a fifty percent chance it will work, and even if it does, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s gone. You’ll never clasp her small hands inside your own calloused ones, tuck your head against her shoulder, press your lips against hers.

You’ve finally reached the top of the mountain. Finally reached her. But it was too late. When you crested the summit, she was already gone, and there was only a spatter of crimson left behind to show that she was ever there at all.

Why and other monosyllabic nightmares

Another half-day of mindless scrolling

Another half-day of unfocused rumination

Another half-day of tired naps later,

I find myself pleading guilty

in the court of productivity and optimisation

And so I dig into that bottomless sack of writing prompts I possess: My life.

But what do I do now?

Now that I've exhausted all those metaphors

that never could convey anything concrete anyway;

I think about writing a poem about the Ice Queen

and not-so-subtly projecting on to her,

I think about how I'm past the stages of romanticising, and of not romanticising,

I think about all the poems I could write—

Redundant, already crumpled and thrown in my paper-shredder mind.

I dip my paintbrush in my blood

And draw sigils on the floor sacrificing

my body to sadness for poetry,

Adorn the altar of insanity

with the icy tinsel of my frozen tears,

Cover the pebble made of scream stuck in my throat

with colourful paint, tack some sequins on it

Call it art, present to you

to use as a paperweight.

Here, inside the fortress built of enamel ribs

I put a suction needle in my heart

here, inside the safety of the exhibition gallery

I have the luxury to air censored content—

if it can be called a luxury, that is.

I turn myself inside out, like a coat pocket

Shake all the lint and dirt out on paper in the hope of being restored to my natural pocket-state

(whatever that may be)

But as anyone who's ever turned anything inside-out knows,

you can never quite get rid of it all.

I am not a Gryffindor, my art

is a blanket woven out of cowardly moments

Dyed out of silent vessels filled with nothing and everything Embroidered with the words 'Passive Deathwish'

as if they mean anything to anyone but me;

My art is this cozy blanket I'm getting too comfortable in.

My art is the rug I hastily threw over

the mess on the floor before you came in—

Creation concealing destruction—

You knocked,

'Come in,' I said,

You said the rug was so pretty, you wish you'd made it

You left but you didn't know

that the rug's fused to the floor.

Language is all we have between us:

So much yet so little,

so rich yet so lacking,

Its inventions can heal

anyone but its own inventor

Or they can spread, contagious,

like the virus I feel, treading borders

too much to count—

Until every work becomes so unique,

uniqueness doesn't exist anymore.

Only loneliness in a crowd.

Beauty, you see, is only what art presents—

pain is not poetic, nor sorrow edgy—

For all its pure and noble ambitions,

art has an ulterior motive: attention, validation, appreciation

Why else cut yourself in half and indulge the world

in this sensational magic trick?

All the artist wants is to be seen.

To be seen, to be heard, to be felt,

Yet I do not want your sympathy

I have no desire for your admiration

for you only see the creation, maybe the preservation,

But not the destruction that lies behind

the bodies burnt in the plague before the renaissance;

You see the rug and not the mess

neither do you want to, and I understand—

Well, what do I want then?

Don't you see? I don't have a clue.

How could I?

How else could this poem exist?

More poems

Chosen Twins Ch 2 : The Escape

Author’s note: Try and guess Marley’s hogwarts house, I put a few clues in this chapter and the first one. Happy guessing! :D

Marley looks out the window while serving tea and coffee to Petunia and Vernon. A light screeching sound coming from outside. Pushing the curtain back, she sees owls of all sizes and colors sitting on cars, light posts, and electrical lines. 

“You know what I love about Sundays.” Vernon says wistfully. 

“No post.” Harry answers. 

Marley half smiles at the memory of what had happened for the past week and a half. Letters were finding themselves mailed to the two of them, some even addressed to the cupboard itself. All of them were intercepted, taken, torn, and burned. She half thought Vernon might buy a shredder just to get rid of them faster, but for every letter destroyed more kept showing up. Before now Marley never had something mailed to her. The bright red wax seal with a large H stamped into it. She’s seen on Petunia’s soap operas use wax seals on letters and dramatically gasp when opening them. 

“Exactly no..” Vernon trails off as a letter shoots through the chimney. 

Suddenly more and more letters begin coming through, swirling in the air around the five of them. Dudley jumps up and into his mother’s arms. Harry swings his arms up and around to catch one of the flying letters. Marley looks towards Petunia who is busy tending to Dudley, Vernon is busy panicking and dodging letters. Marley knocks over a vase of flowers from the table as she goes to pick up the flowers. She grabs a letter from the floor and hides it in her bra. Whatever this letter was for, it was to her and she was going to do whatever it takes to keep it. 

Harry grabs his letter and runs to the cupboard. Vernon chases him and grabs him before he can unlock the cupboard door, sending both of them sprawling on the floor, wrestling over a letter. 

“Those are Harry’s letters! Let go!” Marley yells trying to get Vernon off of him. 

“That’s it!” Vernon pushes Marley off of him.” We are going away, Pack your things!” 

Petunia grabs Harry and Marley, shoving them into a cupboard. 

Marley has a smile plastered on her face and can’t help laughing. 

“Where do you think we’re going?” Harry asks. 

“I don’t know but I got a letter.” Marley takes it out of her bra. “ And it’s all mine.” 

She rubs her thumb over the wax seal. A dried bit of the wax flakes off. 

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Harry asks. 

“It’s not safe yet.” Marley stuffs the letter back as she hears the door knob rattle. “Grab your stuff.” 

Marley throws her few clothes into the shared trash bag. She puts in her best pair of running shoes. 

“Pack yours too, Harry.” She holds the bag out to him. 

“You can’t be serious, where would we go?” Harry puts his shoes in. 

“Anywhere is better than here. I have paper and pencils. I’ll be an art busker. You handle the money, we can keep it in this hat.” Marley puts a baseball cap in the bag. 

“Where would we live?” Harry adds more clothes into the bag. 

“On the street, bring some good socks.” Marley tosses in a pocket knife that Harry recognizes. 

“You stole that from Dudley’s room.” 

“He doesn’t use it. We might need it on the street.” She grabs a few more socks. 

“For what?” 

“Protection, or pencil sharpening.” Marley ties up the bag. 

Aunt Petunia swings open the door and grabs the two by the shoulders. “Come along children.” 

“Where are we going?” Marley asks. The cogs turning in her head, if she knows where they're going maybe they could run off. Petunia and Vernon wouldn’t bother looking for them. 

“Does it matter?Get in the car.” Petunia snaps. 

Marley picks at the loose threads of the seat’s interior to pass the time. Her head begins to ache.Her ears pound, all she can hear is thumping. It feels as though her brain is being squeezed. Suddenly Marley’s eyes turn glassy and images start flashing and blurring together in her mind. A large bearded man, an umbrella, Dudley screaming, Vernon and Petunia angry, a cake. She’s still in the jostling and bumpy car ride. 

Harry looks over at his sister and sees her hands are shaking. 

“What’s wrong?” He whispers. 

“I saw something.” She answers.

“I thought it only happened at night?” 

“Me too.” She looks out the window to the rocky shore, and sees a small shack on its own island. 

“What did you see?” Harry asks. 

“A big bearded man, with an umbrella, and cake. Vernon and Petunia get really angry with him. I think he might hurt Dudley, but we can use that as our distraction and run off with him.” Marley explains. 

“How do you know the bearded man is safe?” 

“I have a feeling, and you never bet against me, right.” She confirms then adds. “Besides if he’s not, I still have a knife.” 

“Enough chatting, back there!” Vernon yells parking the car. 

Once out of the car, the only thing Marley can smell is seaweed, and the salty winds of the ocean. She huddles with Harry as a big gust of wind blows over the two of them. A rowboat and oars sits on the shore. The five get in the boat as Marley and Harry row, she wonders if she can swim. She’s never been in a pool but it must be pretty easy. If you’re thrown in water you can learn pretty fast. If worse comes to worst she and Harry can just float but the bags might weigh them down. If she and Harry steal the row boat one day leaving the Dursley’s trapped, that might buy them time. The boat bumps into the rocky shore, Marley grabs Harry to avoid being thrown into Aunt Petunia. 

Later than night a storm rolls in. Marley and Harry sleep on the floor near the fire. Harry put Marley closest to the fire since she’s smaller and gets colder easily. Every flash of lightning and crack of thunder woke Marley up. She pulls herself up and lays beside her brother. 

Marley looks down at the drawing of a birthday cake and up at her brother. 

“Happy Birthday, Harry.” 

“Happy Birthday, Marley.” He says throwing an arm around her. 

“Should we make a wish?” 

“Yeah, on the count of three, one two three.” They blow on the cake drawing in dirt. 

The door to the shack began to be banged on, once twice thrice. Dudley runs to one part of the room, with Harry grabbing Marley and running behind a part of the wall that sticks out. Vernon and Petunia run into the room. Vernon carrying a shotgun. The door opens to reveal a large bearded man. 

“That’s him, Harry.” Marley whispers. 

“Sh.” Harry hushes peeking out. 

“Sorry, about that.” The man picks up the door and puts his umbrella away. 

“I demand that you leave at once!” Vernon yells aiming the shotgun. 

“Dry up Dursley you great prune.” The large man bends the barrel of the gun upwards, it going off in the process. 

“Harry, we can run now, and take the boat.” Marley suggests taking a few steps away from him. 

The large man mistakes Dudley for Harry. Harry grabs Marley’s hand and steps out from their hiding place. 

“I’m Harry, and this is Marley.” He says. 

“I’ve got something for the both of you’s.” The large man takes out a box,” ‘friad I might have sat on it but I imagine it tastes fine just the same.” 

Harry opens the box and Marley swallows loudly. It’s the cake, just as she had seen in her episode in the car. 

“Thank you.” 

“Not everyday, you turn eleven.” The large man’s attention turns to Marley, “ And you, still a wee thing. The both of you’s have some cake.” 

The large man sits on the couch, takes out his umbrella, and makes the fire grow larger. 

“Excuse me, who are you?” Harry asks. Marley nods in agreement putting the cake down. 

“Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys and grounds of Hogwarts.” The large man answers tending to the fire. 

“Like my letter.” Marley whispers. 

“Of course, the two of you probably know all about hogwarts.” Hagrid says. 

“Sorry, no.” Harry answers. 

“Blimey, didn’t the two of you’s ever wonder where your parent’s leaned it all from.” 

“Learned what?” Marley asks clearly. 

“You’re wizards.” Hagrid states. 

“No, we’re just Harry and Marley. We’re just twins.” 

“Have you ever made anything happen?” Hagrid asks. “ When you’re angry or scared?” 

Marley looks at Harry, “ The zoo, when we were pushed.” 

Hagrid hands Harry a letter and then looks at Marley. “You’re a clever girl to hide your letter.” 

Marley nods with a small smile,taking  her letter out of hiding and begins to read it as Harry reads his. 

“They will not be going there!” Vernon snaps. “We swore when we took them in we’d stop this rubbish.”

“You knew?” The twins say. 

“Of course we knew. My perfect sister, a witch. I was the only one to see her for what she really was, a freak.” Petunia says. “Then she met that Potter, got herself blown up and we were stuck with you two.” 

“What about the car crash?” Marley asks. 

“Car crash!” Hargid starts,” It’s an outrage! A scandal! These two have had their names known since they were born!” 

“Why?” Marley asks looking up Hagrid, a little unsure, she always hated angry people. 

“They will be going to Hogwarts, one of the finest wizarding schools, under one of the finest headmasters that Hogwarts has ever seen, Albus Dumbledore.” 

As the adults argue, Marley sees Dudley eat the birthday cake. 

“I will not pay to have some crackpot old fool to  teach them magic tricks.” Vernon snaps. 

Hagrid points his umbrella, “ Never insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me.” 

Hagrid’s eyes look off to Dudley eating the birthday cake. He swishes the umbrella towards Dudley and a pigs tail sprouts. 

Marley can’t help but laugh at the tail. Dudley, Vernon and Petunia running off to separate room to try and fix it. 

“I’d appreciate it if you two didn’t tell anyone at Hogwarts about that, strictly speaking I’m not allowed to do magic.” Hagrid explains to the two. 

“Okay. “Harry agrees.

“I’m good with secrets.” Marley nods. 

“Running a bit behind, we best be off, unless you’d rather stay of course.” Hagrid asks. 

“We packed a go bag just in case we ever needed to run away.” Marley grabs her things and tosses Harry his bag. 

Hagrid gives her nod with a sad smile,” You’re very prepared.” 

Walking down the London street Harry reads off the list to Hagrid. Marley is just happy to be away from the Dursleys and walks behind them. 

“Can you really find all this in London?” Harry asks. 

“If you know where to look.” Hagrid answers taking the children into a pub. 

Marley looks at all the people in the dimly lit pub. The bartender speaks to Hagrid but he brushes him off now that he’s on official business. The headache begins again, and she grabs onto Harry’s shoulder to steady herself. Her head is swimming. 

“Marley!” Harry yells, steadying her. 

Hagrid stops and gets the two to sit down. Her eyes go glassy again, and she closes her eyes once the images begin. A purple man, and a snarling gnawing beast. 

“Are you alright, Marley?” Hagrid asks. 

“Yeah it happens.” Marley answers holding her head. 

The three have captured the attention of the patrons of the pub. 

“Sure you don’t want your, usual, Hagrid?” The barkeep asks putting down some water for Marley. 

“I’m sure, just helping the Potter twins buy their school supplies.” Hagrid says keeping a hand on Marley, poor thing looks like she’d jump out of her skin at the drop of a hat. 

“Bless my soul, it’s Harry Potter.” The barkeep says. The chattering in the pub stops and all eyes are on the three. 

“Welcome back, Mr. and Ms. Potter.” A wizard says. 

Others chime in to get a glimpse of the prophesied twins. A man with a nervous disposition and a dark purple turban approaches the two. 

“Potter, what a pleasure to meet you.” The man says. 

Marley looks up and sees the purple turban, her eyes widen. 

“Hello professor, “ Hagrid says,” This is Professor Quirrel, he’ll be your  Defense against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts.” 

“Nice to meet you.” Harry says puting his hand out. 

Marley glares at him and nudges Harry with her foot under the table. 

“Fa-fascinating subject, not that you’ll need it Ay’ Potter.” Quirrel sputters out.  

Once Marley is calm enough to continue, the three walk out to the back of the pub to a dead end with a brick wall. 

“Why does everyone know about us?” Harry asks. 

“I don’t think I’m the person to tell you why.” Hagrid says. 

He taps on the bricks with his umbrella.  

“I don’t believe I like that professor.” Marley says. 

“Bit of an odd fellow, but Dumbledore hired him.” Hagrid admits. 

The brick wall opens. Harry and Marley stand and stare in amazement. 

“Harry, Marley, welcome to Diagon Alley.” Hagrid and the two walk through. 

The streets are full of people getting their shopping done. The smell of roast chestnuts wafts outward towards the stores. The apothecary shop smells of dried herbs. The three pass a pet store with owls out front, some screeching, others pruning themselves. Several children crowd around a broom display. 

“How are we to pay for the supplies?” Harry asks. 

“We haven’t got any money, I’m afraid.” Marley adds.  

“Your money is in there. Gringotts bank.” Hagrid says opening the door. 

The bank is larger than any normal bank Marley has ever seen. She’s also never seen people quite like the ones in charge of the bank. 

“Uh Hagrid, what exactly are these things?” Harry asks. 

Marley pinches Harry and whispers “ Don’t be rude.” 

“They’re goblins.” Hagrid says overhearing the twin’s whispers. He leads the two to the large desk with a goblin behind a book. 

“The Potters would like to make a withdrawal.” Hagrid says. 

The goblin looks down at the children. Marley gives a little wave. 

Hagrid goes searching in his pockets to find the key. “ here’s the little devil, and there’s something else. It’s about you know what in vault you know which.” He hands over an envelope. 

“Very well.” The goblin says. 

The three of them are taken to a deeper part of the bank that looks almost like a mine complete with a track and large carriage looking carts. The goblin drives the carriage to the vault and announces “ Vault 687.” 

Hagrid hands the goblin the lantern and key. Harry and Marley climb out of the carriage looking around. 

“Woah.” Marley says softly. 

“Yeah..brillant.” Harry adds.

The goblin opens the vault door, piles upon piles of gold coins lay there. 

“Didn’t think your parents would leave you two with nothing, did you?” Hagrid looks towards the twins. 

“It’s like Ducktales.” Marley says looking at the gold. Enough for the both of their supplies and a little more is taken out. 

The goblin takes them to another vault to retrieve the you know what. 

“Psst, Harry.” Marley whispers. “What do you think is in there?” 

“I don’t know.” He whispers then asks Hagrid,” What’s in there?” 

“Can’t tell you Harry, hogwarts business.” Hagrid answers, “Very secret.” 

Hagrid picks up the small bag. “Best not to mention this to anyone.” 

Harry and Marley pick out their books for the year, and small supplies first. Walking down the streets Harry looks down at the list of the supplies. Marley had snuck a pen and was crossing things off her list as they shopped. 

“We still need wands.” Harry says. 

“Yup that’s the last thing.” Marley confirms. 

“Wands, well there’s Olivanders no place better.” Hagrid points in front of them a little ways.” You two go get your wands, and I’ll run my one thing I got to do. I won’t be long.” 

Harry and Marley quickly walked to the wand shop. 

“Can you believe this? We’re wizards, we can do magic.” Marley says coming to terms with what all has happened in one day. “I wonder what we learn first.” 

“First we should buy the wands then worry about that.” Harry says opening the door to the shop. The bell above them rings but no one is behind the desk. 

“That’s odd.” Harry turns to Marley.

“All of this is odd.” Marley retorts looking at the boxes along the walls. 

“Hello.” Harry calls. 

An older gentleman with white shaggy looking hair slides to the side from a bookshelf ladder. 

“I wondered when I’d be seeing you two. Mr. Potter, Ms.Potter.” The man smiles. 

He climbs down from the ladder. “One at a time then, you first Harry.” 

His fingers flicker between wand boxes as he searches for the right one. 

“Seems like only yesterday, your mother and father were in here buying their first wands.” He says handing Harry a wand. 

Harry stares at him waiting for something to happen. 

“Well give it a wave.” The older man says. 

Harry waves the wand and wand boxes fall off the shelves. He set the wand back down carefully. 

“Apparently not.”Ollivander says and looks above him for another wand. 

“I’m sure there’s a wand for you.” Marley gestures towards the ones on the walls. 

“Perhaps this.” Ollivander takes one and hands it to Harry. He grabs another and sets it off to the side. 

Harry whirls the wand at a vase of flowers. The vase shatters. 

“No. No. Definitely not that one.” Ollivander goes near the back of his store. “I wonder…” 

He comes back with a new wand and curiously looks at Harry before handing him the wand. 

Harry grips the wand as he has all of them, he barely moves it before winds fill the shop. Dust from all wand boxes flies into the air.

 “Curious.” Ollivander says. 

“What’s curious.” Harry asks. 

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, and this one has a phoenix feather in it. The phoenix gave one other feather, but your wands brother is the same wand that gave you that scar.” Ollivander explains. 

Marley is in a trance by a lightly colored wand with a braid handle of gold. She reaches her hand out to grab the wand from the box. She bumps the box and it goes crashing to the floor. 

Ollivander spins around and sees Marley pick up the wand to hand it back to him “I um sorry, it’s very beautiful.” 

“Interesting...Give it a wave, then.” Ollivander crosses his arms in thought, the wand she had picked up was an authentic silver lime wand with a dragon heartstring. Not too rigid, not too flexible. 

Marley gives it a wave and the vase that Harry broke fixes itself and the flowers begin to bloom and release the most intoxicating scent of jasmine and sakura blossoms. 

“Remember you two, the wand chooses the wizard, it’s not always clear why. But I think it is clear that we can expect great things from you two.” Olivander says to the twins. 

“Harry. Marley.” Hagrid taps on the glass of the store windows. “ Happy Birthday.” He holds two owls in cages. 

“They're so cute.” Marley coos over the owls.

Hagrid hands one cage to Harry and the other to Marley. 

“I’m naming him Tea Spoon and no one is stopping me.” Marley says petting the grey owl with her finger through the bars of the cage. 

“He’s all your’s.” Hagrid says. 

Dream Ashes (Yoongi x Reader)

Genre: Smut, Angst, FwB AU, HYYH AU

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Warnings: Allusions to self-harm, smoking, drinking and domestic abuse, toxic relationships, unrequited love, Top!/Dom!Yoongi, unprotected sex (ALWAYS do it safely, lads and lasses), (semi-)public sex (if sex on a rooftop counts), swearing/cussing

Summary: Not every night under each roof is pleasant, filled with arguments and the broken dreams of aspiring artists held back by parents either having no faith in their child’s talent or, if they acknowledge it at all, in a future pursuing a dream. A mixture of the two continues to kill the aspirations of the black sheep of the Min family, a delinquent deemed a pyromaniac by the ignorant eyes that solely know how to shallowly judge.

But there is a guardian angel with love who bears his burden gladly on lonely nights.

Even if it comes at the cost of her own heart.

Masterlist

Not every night under each roof is pleasant, filled with arguments and the broken dreams of aspiring artists held back by parents either having no faith in their child’s talent or, if they acknowledge it at all, in a future pursuing a dream. A mixture of the two continues to kill the aspirations of the black sheep of the Min family, a delinquent deemed a pyromaniac by the ignorant eyes that solely know how to shallowly judge. However, the open-minded individuals who can see beneath the tough exterior will be met by a musical genius who is forced time and again to give up the sole reason to live.

Music.

The piano.

‘I don’t have a dream. Besides, what’s the point in having one?’ Those words have become a steady statement to make whenever the conversation turns to what can be done after leaving behind six good friends and dropping out of high school. Whether any help is needed, in any regard, because a girl ran away from home herself is more than knowledgeable in how hard it can be to survive without anything to fall back on.

Though eventually a safe haven was offered freely by the actual leader of our little band of troublemakers guarded by a mistress of lies, another runaway living in a train yard outside of town. 

Withal, tonight a new worrying addition is spoken after a habitual check-up text sent from Joon’s refurbished container after patching up Taehyung’s latest wounds inflicted by a raging drunk of a worthless father. The boy with the curious square smile stubbornly continues to hide the true cause of the physical and mental pain despite his fellow graffiti artist having hinted multiple times at wanting him to open up about the issue. Notwithstanding, it would seem the real cause of the harm will only be entrusted to the boys' confidante, the guardian angel helping tattooed aqua locks keep the rabble in line. 

For as far as that is possible. 

‘They take everything from the inside and throw it away.’

‘Who is they?’ Throat constricted by concern at this new detail, fingers stop combing through caramel locks finally fallen asleep after grunting through the medicinal care while precariously avoiding making eye contact with Monie. 

‘Everybody.’

‘I don’t, I would never. Neither would Jungkook, Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok, Namjoon and Seokjin.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘No, it’s not!’ No response, the last text remaining to be noted as read. ‘Yoongi? 

‘Yoongi, answer me! You’re not gonna do anything stupid, you hear me?

‘Yoongi, please!’

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

‘Oh God.’ The exclamation comes out on a short breath, panic rapidly overtaking as thoughts refer to the past.

‘What?’ Namjoon looks up from designing a new piece of art to place somewhere on a bare city wall, an eyebrow curiously cocked.

‘I- I need to go.’ Gently, Tae is laid down on the mattress. Futilely, the unconscious boy tries to wrap arms around the upper legs to pin them where they are before moving away. They have to, because time has become precariously precious again. Hence, all that the sleeper gets is a quick platonic peck on the forehead. ‘Right now.’

‘What’s going on?’ The leader notices the distress, turning halfway on the worn seat and about to get up.

‘It’s Yoongi. He’s not responding anymore and I think I know why.’

Shredded paper, beautiful notes turned awry thanks to disregard by the public, compositions torn apart to be hauled through a shredder or be burned in the next fire leading to an arrest.

Scarlet.

Glistening metal. 

More silver lines added to the ever-expanding canvas on pale thin limbs.

‘Honestly, why doesn’t he just come here? We’ve both said multiple times he should.’ Honey digits remove the simple beanie to run through blue short strands, defeated in the wager as to why the pianist remains on the flight instead of retreating to the home we have created. 

Regardless of the severity weighing heavily on shoulders moving towards the door, a sympathetic smile can be managed to put Joon at least somewhat at ease. One person carrying the burden of Time is more than enough and if someone should be to blame for being too late, it should be the guardian angel. ‘Because he can’t see the point, the good it’ll do him. He doesn’t know he has a home.’

It should be me.

‘He’d rather see his dream burn than move in with us.’ A mutual deep sigh erases the only sign of comfort that can be given at the moment as a hand reaches towards the latch. ‘One of these days I’ll drag him here myself and just lock him in. It’ll be full house, but I’m sure we could figure something out.’

‘Good luck with that, Monie. I’d help, but I value my life. He’s a tiger. One that’s hopefully unharmed by the time I reach him.’ Because, once more, it are solely the black wings engraved into the back which know the truth while the rising bird is kept in the dark regardless of begging in silence for the last sliver of complete trust even telling of hardships they do not know about. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Gritting gravel surrounding neglected railways beneath open twilight gradually transforms into asphalt broken up by holes in the districts ruled by crime and smooth steady ways in good neighbourhoods forming the residence area of families of which the children will either become something akin to the grandness of a doctor or a nine-to-five, if not worse, office worker. And it is here the phone put into the pocket of the denim jacket buzzes, the screen lighting up thanks to a new message that is a blessing and a curse at the same time. ‘Not home. Ran away. Warehouse. Roof.’

‘When did you run?’ The answer might seem fairly obvious were it not for the memory of the first time created melodies were destroyed by the paper shredder and parents furiously yelled at the aspiring producer to actually go back to school and get a proper education.

A good life.

Meant for someone else.

Not for an artist.

These same bordeaux Puma sneakers stormed through the front door and up the stairs after mister Min opened up, about to ask who in their right mind came calling around midnight. Absolutely not giving a damn about the consequences and solely focused on reaching a familiar door hiding ignored hardship. 

Truth be told, none of us ever has.

Because we live.

Young, wild and free.

Or so we will, after all of us have escaped the judgmental cage created by a society looking down on creative souls trying to make a change. To leave a worthy legacy meant for generations to look back on and learn from. 

After feathers break free from the egg. 

But more than a single care was given upon warily approaching the figure in the secret studio least of all serving its original purpose of a bedroom, crawled away from the door to hide in the corner while clutching anxiously at freshly bleeding cuts. The knife was put aside, undeniably used and cruelly lying on the ground beside us.

Instead of directly speaking, we merely sat across from each other in a heavy hush wherein confidence was regained by calmly waiting for dark eyes to make contact. Which they eventually did, trembling bloody palms removing the white headphones given as a collective birthday present together with Joon and Hobi. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’ Regardless of knowing what was meant, locks nevertheless tilted to the side in feigned wonder because any direct reference to the difficult situation would lock the oppressed musician up immediately.

And invite the cruel blade upon leaving. 

‘For being so fucking worthless. For making you come all the way here, just to see this good-for-nothing criminal.’ Unjust cracks appeared evident in the barely composed raspy voice of salt-streaked tears. Crimson fingertips plucked at baggy clothes concealing the frame that had become ghastly thinner due to the stress placed upon young shoulders forced to see dreams burn over and over again. 

As always, helpless heavy-weighing playfulness was resorted to in the quiet hope of brightening the mood enough to break through the impenetrable walls which are always built when Yoongi is put down. ‘Shut up.’

Colourless irises, the passion sucked out of them until all they knew was how to cry, looked up in a sharp sneer. Or so it wanted to be, but could not due to an inner voice constraining the harshest negativity which turned the expression grave rather than judgemental. ‘It’s true, Y/N. You know it is.’

‘No, it’s not.’

A shift of subject made it more than clear the current topic did no longer serve any purpose, completely disregarding the smeared headphones and fresh cuts. Curiously, it changed to inquire about the well-being of the equally, albeit not to the same degrees, abused boy with whom often arguments were started merely because of being followed. Followed by the one who looked up to him, the rebel who will one day fully make the right decision and flee from beneath this harming roof permanently. ‘How’s Tae?’

A resigned sigh gave into the shift reluctantly, a tiny sliver of gladness spreading warmth throughout the limbs grown cold at the miserable sight and calming a rapidly beating heart unable to not worry about the wounds. ‘Bruised ribs, split lip, a cut on his cheek and an ugly bruise beneath the left eye.’

‘Please tell me he’s crashing at Namjoon’s.’

‘He is, as always. Mended for as far as possible and asleep.’

‘Good.’ Absently, as if drifting off into the forcefully created crumbled world once more, Yoongi nodded while repeating the confirmation under sharp breath. ‘That’s good.’

‘You, on the other hand, aren’t doing so great.’ It could not be helped, the dark carmine droplets staining ashen sweatpants creating hideous murky brown stains could not be ignored. Ugly yet alluring ghosts tempting the eye into being looked at. ‘You could have come to the train yard.’

The subtle suggestion resulted in the habitual denial of all help, any former softness sharpened like a dagger and flowing from a snarling tongue. ‘I’m fine. Just go.’

‘Where’s the first-aid kit?’ It had always been part of the dynamic, ignoring what the composer said in favour of a better outcome or serve as the company that was wanted but the wish of had never been explicitly stated. Withal, the guardian angel would triumph once more due to the trump card of iron determination, speaking in a tone that would not let anything of the pain due to the confrontation with self-destruction filter through. 

‘Go.’ Sullenness preceded, as per habit, the fierceness of the tiger beneath the skin. Stained fingers moulded into fists gripping at oversized clothes, trembling with rage but trying incredibly hard to contain it to not do something to regret in the second after rashness. 

‘Where?’ The characteristic raised sarcastic eyebrow was not appreciated, still only so on very few occasions nowadays. 

‘Just fucking go!’

The lashing out would have chased away any of the other guys, but not the girl merely scoffing at the show both minds knew was nothing except fakery. ‘Have it your way. I’ll look for it myself.’

As expected, it was stored away in the lower compartment of the bathroom sink adjacent to the small bedroom, thus leading to the swift return to a cherry-haired tiger meticulously observing every movement from a safe spot. Withal, without shrinking as if wanting to melt into the scenery. Instead, he stared on in wonder of the help coming to the rescue of both a friend and a precious bond.

‘Give me your arm.’ No response at first, even at the beckoning hand any other might mistake for being impatient yet was all but that. It was desperate, frightened to death by the flowing carmine. ‘Yoongi, arm.’

Despite not stating it outright, the mere act of putting it in the cross-legged lap calmly without grumbling said more than words could at the moment. Henceforth, a tense though comfortable hush descended while cleaning the wounds after disinfecting them, checking up on an expression continuously returning to stoicism with every hiss. 

Notwithstanding, in spite of missing the change betraying bodily hurt that by no means outweighed the mental burden of both parties, there was a fascinated warmth in irises drained of life time and again as digits bandaged the visible part of the damage up.

‘There, that’s better.’ Glad hands put down the first-aid kit as the last freshly carved scar had been concealed by ivory linen, sighing in calming relief. All in all, it did not take long to patch the musician up but the pressure of time flowing away made the instance appear longer than it really had. 

‘Why?’ Furrowed brows regarded the first step to physical healing, almost as if uncomprehending of how it would help. Of course, it would not aid mental stability but it did allow for the rescue of a soul who would have gone too soon.

‘Because we’re friends and I won’t let you fall. I’d never let you down.’ Trembling in hesitance, the palm of a barely recovered from the shock voice reached out to a pale cheek, the thumb languid in caressing the denied tears away. ‘You’re an incredible musician, Yoongi. No matter what anyone says or whether you believe me, it’s true. We, the guys and I, think so. No, we know so.’

‘You speak of them as if they’re my friends too.’ Had the genuine broken persona living beneath the skin of the rebel kicked out of school been unknown to the girl sitting across from him on the floor, the end would have happened right then and there. However, the opposite was the truth and thus the sneering tone was disregarded in favour of establishing at least a sliver of conviction of reality.

Something to believe in. 

Something to hold on to. 

‘They are. They disregard the fact you don’t contact them at all because, as I said, they know you’re going to make it big someday. They still continue to support you. None of them has forgotten about you.’ Lips pursed in careful contemplation, calculating the impact of each word which wanted to be said without angering the only temporarily subdued tiger. Eventually, such an argument was formed in good faith. ‘And you haven’t forgotten about them either because you wouldn’t have asked after Tae if you had.’

‘Still, you’re the only one here.’ A pale palm folded perfectly over the one on the salt-streaked cheek, the broken dreamer leaning gratefully into the touch with lashes fluttered shut and a voice as if drifting off into slumber. A blissful place away from cruel reality. Away from here. ‘You’ve always been.’

‘That’s not tr-’ The protest was cut short by an unexpected kiss, lips meeting in soft urgency. A whirlwind of emotions kicked up at the suddenness of the action, Reason and Fancy at war due to never having thought the tiger would do such a thing. 

Nor expect to hear a new level of despair in the whisper temporarily breaking up the kiss, sounding strange as it was caught between genuine clarity and relieved sobbing begging to not be left behind. ‘It is. Only you love me.’

Thus, the truly vicious cycle began of coming to the rescue both mentally and physically only to end up in the sheets to fully calm down. See to it Yoongi can rest easy even while one heart falls deeper and deeper into chaotic love.

It has been for the past two years of denial.

But it cannot mean anything.

It should not.

Because, once it does, it becomes a passion.

A dream to pursue.

And that is forbidden and therefore it will shatter or be burned like music.

Until all there is left are merely ghosts.

The only type of changing the meetings of scared hearts have undergone is a shift in location after the rebel dared to run away again the day Jungkook almost ended it all on the edge of the highest skyscraper.

Barely in time could the youngest of the chaotic band be rescued, the man like an older brother pulling the maknae by the back of an ivory and rose checkered blouse and holding on to the boy until both had regained enough breath after spilling tears of frustrated relief. After all, Yoongi had sworn during the last meeting with the entire group beneath a nightly sparkling spring sky to be a support pillar because he knows what living while feeling useless is like, vouching to do so while Kook rested on his shoulder. Through the high-rising flickering amber flames of the fire pit, the two seemed content at last.

For a little while, everything was okay.

We would be fine.

Would be.

But tonight, on the roof of the abandoned warehouse in the harbour where on the lower floor stands a dusty brown piano, we are not. The damaged knuckles and chafed skin beneath sullen irises tells of barely escaping another arrest after being kicked out a bar again and drunkenly searching for a fight, the scent of cigarettes indicating music has been burned again because the pieces were not good enough.

They never are.

Not to society.

But, to the girl approaching a wild tiger, they are everything.

Though the producer is blind to see it.

‘Yoongi?’ No reaction to the greeting comes as the heavy door to the roof closes and bordeaux Puma sneakers pad with a heavy heart over the asphalt still warm due to the day’s heat. They come to a halt a mere step away from the brooding tiger. ‘You never answered me over text and make me come all the way out here to get a response.’

‘Does it matter?‘ Without so much as a sideways glance, entwined damaged slender fingers maintain a steady melancholic gaze over the dark quiet waters of the harbour. A mocking grin tugs at the corners of the mouth but does not form completely, essentially as joyless as the denied dreamer.

 ‘It does! It fucking does!’

For once, please believe me when I tell you that you’re not nothing.

‘To who, hm?’ At last, colourless irises grace a worried soul with a challenging look but at least attention is pulled enough to actually listen and not simply hear. 

‘To the guys.’ A palm slaps against a rapid beating heart in a constricted chest as lips tremble and a cracking voice rises in volume. ‘To me.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘No, it’s not. We care, Yoongi, all of us.’ The last bit of distance is breached as a hand naturally folds over a frozen shoulder clad in a military green jacket, resting there without being violently shrugged off. 

A sign of listening. 

And thus the argument is pursued on a calmer and more steady yet equally urgent tone. ‘What about Jungkook? You promised to be his supporting pillar. Taehyung is over at Joon’s again, beaten up by his dad and you know it hurts you. Just as much as it hurts us.’ 

Upper arms are enveloped as briefly locked gazes break up, ashen strands hanging low in stubborn ignoring of the guardian angel crouching in front of them. ‘Us, Yoongi. The Bangtan Boys and me. Our family.’

‘I have no family. They were the first to destroy it all.’ Regardless of being unable to see it, lips are undoubtedly pursed in a fight to prevent new tears from falling. Woven digits tremble in barely suppressed crimson nicotine anger, vision blurring with tormenting memories of refusal. 

‘But we build it up together, didn’t we? You know you aren’t-’

‘Shut up.’ An arm lashes out to undo any contact, the impact of the action causing a fall backwards. Nothing but agonizing exhaustion radiates off the snarl on the handsome face that has become loved as more than a mere friend. 

Even while it extorts another for pleasure.

A means to forget.

It means nothing. 

‘I’m tired of speaking. Tired of thinking. We both know where this goes anyway.’ Each sentence is accentuated by a firm demanding kiss sealing off any chance of protest after being roughly helped onto two unsteady feet, the tables turned as it now are the arms of somebody trying to help which are grabbed tightly. 

Held dear and cherished in an incomprehensible manner.

But it is better than nothing. 

‘We can’t keep doing this.’ Had this been pure desire, the shape pressing hotly against the thigh would have been appreciated in a whole different way. Interpreted in a manner not remotely close to the reality of us because it is not sensual wanton craving.

It is pent-up frustration coming to a boiling point.

Fruitless.

A wandering ghost.

A heap of ashes. 

‘Shut up.’ The hands creating an abyss by pushing against a sturdy chest are given other purpose. Nevertheless, the meaning of the distance remains: foolishly to be able to be filled with sincerity. 

One hand is placed on the hip and the other below, simulating a laughable imitation of actual craving as another kiss adds to the poor fancy. ‘Just do what you’re told for once.’

Lips connect once more in saltwater carrying broken wishes and all the dreams that cannot be because of emotions warring with ideals, the correct way of life stained by nicotine and the sharp yet sweet tang of cheap soju. 

Trembling fingers envelop damaged cheeks as slender musically gifted hands tug at the edge of pants, beckoning them to lie down before undoing the belt fastening bleached ripped jeans only to be warmly welcomed again by the palms that only get to hold the face they love in this repeated loveless lovemaking. Knowing the impatience of the tiger, any restrictions to allowing the heated wantonness pressed against the thigh earlier have been removed before wiping away returned tears and lovingly caressing ashen brown locks.

Don’t get your hopes up. It won’t mean anything. It’s just a means of comfort.

Everything is familiar, a piece of the past tainted by crimson and smoke to cling to. 

The warmth spreading throughout as separate souls effortlessly become one, unprotected in wordlessness and thus letting actions say all that tongues cannot. 

The speed of snapping hips, uncaring about pleasure and merely wanting to fuck the pain away. 

The agony of the tug on each tendon keeping the heart inherently belonging to the occasional groan breaking through heavy breaths whispering into the side of the neck. 

The urban scent of cigarettes, ashes and blood.

The possessive iron-like grip on the waist, desperate to be grounded in the moment or simply an anchor into this world while the mind it belongs to tries to flee.

The chase after temporary oblivion together, though one soul remains a step behind to not frighten the other into love.

After all, it has no meaning.

None of this.

It is a ghost we keep.

Preventing us from finding happiness together.

The chance to hear three simple words spill at least once before or after a troubled mind finds brief peace in the arms of the woman he said, no, knows loves him. Nevertheless, Yoongi cannot return the affection.

Cruelly, the hope remains even while lying on the warm concrete, the heat seeping through dishevelled clothes covering the upper part of the body, and embracing the musical genius drifting somewhere in a pleasant ignorant limbo. The same state of being that lashes turned to a beautiful sparkling sky did not reach again and never will during these meetings. Still, it is not minded for this is a more meaningful type of contentment.

Simply lying here among the ashes. 

But it cannot mean anything.

It should not.

Because, once it does, it becomes a passion.

A dream to pursue.

And that is forbidden and therefore it will shatter or be burned like music.

Until all there is left are merely ghosts.

Take A Bite

This is for Honey-Bee-Holly’s challenge, congrats Doll!

Prompt: “Watch it doll, I just might have ta bite ya.”

Warnings: Smutty,smutty,smut,smut.  Very slim plot.  All consensual.

Pairings:  Alright….I make no apologies. This is MCU/MCU.

A/N:  This is a reader insert. Normally I try my hardest to leave the reader’s features vague, but in this you are blue.  For all intents and purposes, you have the exact same power as X-Men’s Mystique. Your gender is arguably open for interpretation but heavily leans to you being a female!reader. (The smut is all M/F)

Inspiration:  This gif

  Shoulders back, head up, blank look, and powerful walk. If you displayed enough confidence nobody ever asked anything in this building.  

               The pantsuits this chick liked to wear weren’t your favorite, but they were part of the SHIELD getup all the female agents were inclined towards.  

               You rolled your eyes as you stepped in the elevator. Maybe next time you would pose as someone who could enjoy a little femininity in their outfits.  

               The elevator came to a stop at the specified floor and you walked out into the SHIELD branch office inside Stark Tower. The receptionist glanced up at you but didn’t stop as you walked back towards Sharon Carter’s office.  

               You sat down in her chair and flipped her blond hair behind your shoulder.  Of course, her computer was of no use.  You weren’t a tech genius and didn’t have a clue how to hack it.  But one of the great things about organization’s like SHIELD was they were so terrified of being hacked they almost always kept paper copies of the most important documents.  

               After studying the association, the last few years, you began to suspect Carter was higher ranking than she let on.  

               When you pulled open the desk drawer you felt around the hitch at the top and took out the key to the file cabinet.

               You wondered if Director Fury would discipline her if he knew she stashed a spare key in such an obvious spot.  

               You spun around in the chair towards the massive file cabinets. It took a second to pop the key in place and voila, they all opened for you.  

               A smile spread on your face, wishing you had all day to go through every inch of paperwork, but for now you needed to focus. Did they have anything on you? Did they know you existed?

               “Knock knock.” The words were accompanied by two taps on the door.

               You spun and looked up to see Steve Rogers standing in the doorway.  

               “Good morning Sharon, you’re here early.” He crossed his arms as he leaned against the doorframe.

               “It’s going to be a busy day.” You sat up in the chair. “Can I help you with something Captain?”

               You’d surveyed all of them enough to know Steve Rogers was direct and had a packed schedule himself.  

               “No.” He pushed off the door and walked into the office. “Thought I would check in on you, keep some tabs, see what you’re up to.”

               It seemed like his chest was puffed out.

               “And what are you up to Sharon? Cleaning out files?” He walked towards your open drawer. “Is it spring cleaning already Sharon?”

               You didn’t like how he kept using the name of the person you were pretending to be.

               “No sense in maintaining old records.” You smiled and kept your posture perfect, confidence went a long way with everyone. “When I make a big enough pile would you help me carry them to the shredder?”

               You stood up and grabbed Steve’s bicep, well aware the two of them had some pseudo-relationship at some point.  This was far from your first trip inside SHIELD and these people kept tabs on everything.  

               “Sharon you flatter me.” He brushed his fingers to yours. “But I want to help you with more than brawn tasks.  Why don’t you tell me how you’re pulling the files, Sharon, then I can help you sort Sharon?”

               You bit the inside of your mouth and moved your jaw, a tick of your own, not of Sharon Carter’s.  The man was making you nervous.  Were you on their radar? What were they going to do to you when they found out?  You didn’t want to display a crack in your confidence.

               “Perfect.” You nodded. “I could really use the help, but I realized I forgot to grab a coffee.  I think I’m going to head back to the lobby.  Can I bring you back something?”

               “Nonsense.” Steve reached over you, as if he were about to give you a hug, the action almost made you topple back into the chair.

               “What are you…” Before you could get the question out you heard the click of a receiver.  

               Steve stood back up again and handed you the phone.

               “Why don’t you order some? Have it delivered?” He was inches from your face with a huge grin.  “You remember how to do that, don’t you Sharon?”

               You were found out.  There was no doubt.  You were strong but strong enough to take out Captain America?  Your best bet was to find a way out of his line of sight.

               You tried to back out, but your knees hit the chair and you stumbled again.  Steve reached out and grabbed you, supporting you and you steadied yourself.

               “Watch it doll, I just might have ta bite ya.” He tiled his head to the side, his face still displaying the mischievous grin.  

               “Wait…” Your adrenaline started to drop.  This wasn’t right. You weren’t found out.  

               “Who are you?”  You blew a puff of air and put your hands on your hips.

               “What do you mean?” The person wearing Steve Rogers took a step back, losing the grin. “I’m Captain America of course.”

               “Watch it doll? I just might have ta bite ya?” You shook your head. “I’ve interacted with him a few times, he would never talk like that at work.”

               “He uses the name doll all the time.” A corner of Steve’s mouth turned up as he leaned back against the desk. “And who are you? Because Sharon Carter would never wear those heels.”

               “This outfit is an exact copy of one she wore two months ago.” You knew it was silly to get into this debate and had to keep focused. “Obviously you’re not with SHIELD or you would’ve busted me already, so can I get back to work so I can get out of here?”

               “What is it you’re looking for? Maybe I can be of some assistance.” Steve raised his eyebrows and you realized how stupid it was to even think this was the real Captain America.  None of the mannerisms were down.  

               “I work alone.” You tilted your head towards the door. “Either you leave or I will.”

               Someone walked by the outside of the office.

               “Oh hey, you two are here early.” General Rhodes stopped in the doorway. “Did you go to the gym already?”

               “Umm, yes.” Fake Steve nodded.

               Whoever this guy was, he was an amateur and you decided to have some fun with him.

               “Captain Rogers was telling about the time he saved an entire platoon during the war.  It is a fantastic story, the detail he remembers is astounding.”  Now it was your turn to give a mischievous grin.

               “Oh yeah?” Rhodes walked in.

               “It’s a long one though.” You touched Rhodes’ shoulder. “I already heard the first ten minutes and I forgot my coffee.  Captain start over for the General, would you? You’re going to laugh so hard when he gets to the part about the kitten.”  

               “I’ll bite.”  Rhodes leaned against Sharon’s desk. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a story with a war kitten.”

               “Oh, um it’s not really that great of a story.” Fake Steve started scratching his head.

               You used the opportunity to strut out of the office.  Shoulders back, head up and into the elevator.  

               While intrigued that there was another shifter out there you were more annoyed this morning was a bust.  Plus you didn’t get the chance to close the files cabinet and put away the key, mixing that with Rhodes seeing Sharon could end up problematic if he felt like mentioning seeing her this morning.

               Odds of that were slim, but the open file cabinet would mean moving the key. It wasn’t like you didn’t know where the master one was, but that was going to be a pain in the ass to get.

               You weighed your options while the door to the elevator closed.  Sharon hadn’t done you that well today so as you let out a sigh you changed your form to another powerful blond who wouldn’t raise any flags in Stark Tower.

               Before the elevator moved a bell dinged at the door opened again.  A familiar face stepped on with you. He even had on the signature duster and eye-patch.

               “Ms. Potts.” He nodded his head.

               “Director Fury.” You smoothed out the dress Pepper was wearing, much prefer this to the pantsuit.  

               The door shut and you road down in silence for a few floors.  

               “War kittens?” He folded his arms and looked over at you. “Really?”

               “You ruined my morning, figured it was the least I could do.”

               “Come now Darling, these people don’t even know you exist.  No need to behave so paranoid and search their files.” Fake Fury turned to you. “I, on the other hand, am far too aware of your existence, but I have yet to determine your true identity.”

               “Good.” You tried to fight the smile, but it crept forward. “I plan on keeping it that way.”

               “Who are you?” Fury wasn’t even trying to sound like him. “Tell me. Please.”

               “Someone who is smarter than you.” You let out a little laugh.

               The gruff face looked offended.  

               “Sharon Carter is out of the office today and Pepper Potts is fast asleep from hosting a gala late last night.  Nobody is expecting to see them but it wouldn’t raise any questions if they were spotted.  Steve Rogers and Director Fury are both in the building, so all you’re doing is attracting attention.” You reached out and cupped fake Fury’s face as his mouth hung open.  “There’s an art in impersonation.  One you don’t understand.”  

               The elevator came to a stop on the bottom floor. You walked out, sliding your hand down their cheek in the process.  The morning was starting to pick up as the lobby filled.  You glanced over your shoulder expecting to see a dumbstruck Fury.

               Instead, there was a robust security guard with the same look, his eyes glued to you.  You couldn’t help yourself and gave a wink before turning around, putting on Pepper’s sunglasses and strutting out into the busy New York city streets.

~~~

               Wearing another’s form was like wearing clothes for you, some were more comfortable than others.  When you were alone you preferred your own self.  Since your image could transform with outfits you assumed your true form was as close to being naked as it got, but to you, clothing was just an extension of oneself and you did that often enough.

               So you stayed naked and blue, sitting cross-legged on your couch channel surfing.  It was the stereotypical New York apartment, tiny and expensive, but it was actually yours. That never stopped you from taking vacations as the rich and famous, but here in your loft, you had no problem being yourself.

Besides, if any peeping Tom looked in on you they would probably be more frightened by the blue scales than the nudity.  

               You wondered if fake Steve/Fury was blue too. If you had met under different circumstances you might have asked, but interfering with your business was no way to introduce themselves.  You sighed, giving yourself a mental kick for not closing that file cabinet.  

               The other shifter said SHIELD knew nothing about you though.  You would like to believe the shifter but they were so sloppy.  There was zero chance they gathered any real intel with their method.  You bit the inside of your cheek, confused how they found you out though.  

               A knock on the door broke your thoughts.  You popped up and in a second your scales flipped to make your appearance mimic the extra on the background of the television show you were watching.  She was tall, curvy, dark-skinned with dark brown eyes.  The outfit she wore showcased her breasts and that was exactly what you wanted.

               “Coming.” Your voice changed to mimic hers as well.

               Sometimes when you transformed into a person this beautiful you wondered what you would look like if you were just a person.  Of course, you had your preferred form that felt natural, but there was no way to tell if that was really you or not.  

               You gave up obsessing over that long ago though. You realized you were wearing the heels too and wondered if you were overdoing it for the pizza delivery guy. Then you glanced down and got another look at your breasts. You gave them a squeeze through the gold dress and decided it was worth it.  

               Plastering a fake smile on your face you flipped the black hair behind your shoulders and pushed your tits out further.  This form was hot enough you were going to get that free pizza before you even had to scam the guy.  

               “Well, you got here quick.” You yanked open the door to see a gun pointed between your eyes.  

                The form didn’t matter, you grabbed the wrist and twisted it away.  The assailant walked into your apartment and tried to smash their other arm down on your shoulder.  You stepped out of the way and let them go as you lifted your foot and kicked them in the chest, heel and all.  

                They slammed into your refrigerator with a clink. You readied yourself in a defensive stance and noticed the sound came from metal hitting metal.  

                He lunged at you, but you ducked down while the silver arm missed and through his body forward.  His brown hair swinging as he turned around and lifted his leg to kick you.  There was a black mask across his mouth and smudged liner around his eyes.  

               Your adrenaline flared when you realized you recognized him from your recon work.  It was the Winter Soldier.  The worlds deadliest assassin.  

               The two-second pause cost you as his leg swung down to your ankles, knocking you to the floor with a sweeping motion.  

               His human hand grabbed your throat and he raised his metal had to punch you, but your reflexes kicked in.  You did a kip and found yourself on your feet, then brought your foot down on the back on his neck, slamming him to the ground.

               You ran for the door, knowing escape was your only chance, but before you got it cool metal grabbed the back of your neck and pushed you forward, closing the wooden panel and slamming you against it.  

               His other hand came forward and twisted the lock, keeping you inside your apartment.  You wouldn’t give up though.  Heel and all you curled your leg up and bent the knee before slamming it back into his gut.

               “Ugh.”  He tumbled and grabbed his stomach, maybe heels were a good choice after all.

               You lifted your leg, ready to slam it down on his neck, but his hand jutted out and grabbed your ankle.  He ran forward and pushed your back against the door, effectively making you do a split while standing, one leg on the floor.  

               All this time you were so nervous about the Avengers figuring out who you were you turned a blind eye to Hydra.  No way would you be taken alive by them.  You tried to head butt the Winter Soldier, but he veered left.  

               Your hands were still free and you chopped at his side, knowing the side of your hand could be as powerful as a punch.  

               “Ouch.” He dropped your leg and put pressure on his side.

               Now you had the chance to use your forehead and didn’t hesitate to knock him down.  He stumbled and you brought your foot to his neck, pressing him into the fall so he landed flat on his back.  

               You stood above him with your heel pressed down on his neck, your fists ready for attack.  

               The man looked up at you with a huge grin and started slow clapping.

               “Well done darling.” The assassin pulled his mouth cover down. “You truly are a treasure, but I doubt someone who looks the way you do is interested in a pizza night in.  Why don’t you show me who you really are?”

               Your chest was huffing in and out.  It had been years since you had a fight like this and your endorphins were through the roof. Besides, you had some questions for the other shapeshifter.

               “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” You pressed your heel down harder on his neck.

               “I’m impressed you manage to keep your panties on as part of your change.” The fake Winter Soldier tilted his head to look up your gold dress.  

               He was no longer a threat, so you lifted your foot off of him and rolled your eyes as you stood straight.  

               “Of course, if you’re wearing gold maybe you prefer the company of royalty.” King T’Challa popped up from the floor.  

               He walked towards you and you fell back against the door, cursing yourself for not watching the transformation.

               “Would you like to kneel for your king?” The Black Panther leaned forward and put his arms on either side of his head as he looked over you.

               The man was beautiful, and his lips were centimeters from your face. It was your fault you missed his transformation and were intrigued, so you let your image change.

               “I prefer brains and beauty over status and fancy suits.” Your image flipped to the petite Wakandan whose brains barely fit inside her small statute.

               “Wow.” T’Challa moved his face back. “I’m not sure how I feel about a brother-sister combo.”

               You tilted your head to the side and smiled up in your Shuri imitation.

               “Well, what did you have in mind? Outside of breaking into my apartment and attacking me after ruining my workday?” You over exaggerated your blinking.

               In the midst of trying to be cute his form switched and you pressed your head against the door, shocked you missed the change again. He was much faster than you.

               “Maybe the two smartest people in the universe belong together.” Pale eyes looked straight at you since he shrunk with the latest change. “Think of the scientific discoveries.”

               Bruce Banner was never one that you paid too much attention to, but being this close to him, whether it was real or not, made you pause to study. The face was perfect.  

               The imposter used your lapse of judgment to lean forward and press his lips to yours. When was the last time anyone kissed you? Images of being on your own personal missions and using intimate exchanges to gather knowledge excluded.  Someone was actually kissing you.  

               You opened your mouth and invited his tongue to play with yours.  The way he moved into you felt better than expected and you brought your hands around his neck and pulled him in closer while you brought your leg around his waist.  

                His leg came behind you and knocked out one of your knees, causing you to slide down, but his hand was on your back and he lowered you to the floor without making your head smack.  There was no way that was possible given the properties of physics.

               The idea jarred you to reality.  This wasn’t someone kissing you.  This was Bruce Banner kissing Shuri. If he was capable of bending the laws of time and space, he was more powerful than you.  You were intrigued, and wanted to keep this going.

               Your skin flipped again. Now you were much taller, your hair had a grey streak and you made sure your outfit choice came with the signature cloak.

               The change made your partner pull away, but still Dr. Banner looked down at you.

               “Are you a wizard?” You expected him to stop the romantic entanglement now that you were male.  

               Instead, Bruce’s smile grew as he pushed back your fluffy hair.  

               “The way you change is beautiful.” His lips went back to yours.  

               Even in Dr. Strange’s body you found excitement in his touch and let his tongue slide into your mouth.  

               Wearing the suit of a man was too heavy for you. Their extra parts always felt awkward, so your skin flipped again.  This time you let your cheeks turn Scarlett.  

               Fake Bruce pulled away just in time to watch you switch.  

               “I’m not a wizard or a witch either.” Bruce placed a light kiss on your lips.  When he pulled away your eyes widened. Now Hawkeye was above you. “And as much fun as this is, I want to see the real you.”

               His change was too quick.  He wasn’t like you.  Wizard or witch this was coming to another place.  Before you could think of a way to respond his lips were back on yours. This time your interest was too peaked and you rolled over with no resistance.

               You sat up to see Clint Barton underneath you still. You tilted your head to the side and examined him, looking for anything out of the normal.  

               Anytime you took a break it was used against you and Clint’s hands were on Wanda’s shirt.  You rose your arms as he lifted the fabric from your body.  The Scarlet Witch did have fantastic breasts and you had no problem showing them off.  

               Instead of it being a show fake Clint ran his hands up them and they had real feeling.  You tilted your head back as one of his arms went behind you and pulled you forward, bringing his nipple into your mouth.

               Had anyone touched you in this way ever?  Did it matter it wasn’t you?  

               “As beautiful as you are right now, I’m certain the real you is even more charming.” Hawkeye sat up and flipped you over so he was on top of his back. “Put me out of my misery.  Show me.”  

               “I’m nobody.” You were at such odds with your identity it was almost a real answer.

               His eyes danced over you before he moved down and started kissing your neck. You moved your head to give him easier access and wished you hadn’t bothered to transform into anyone wearing clothing.

               You tried to thrust your hips against his, but he pulled away.  Now the face of Sam Wilson looked down at you.  

               “Why be someone when you can be everyone?” He grinned at you with the million-dollar smile only Falcon had.  

               “You’re not playing fair.” You grabbed the bottom of Sam’s shirt and yanked it over his head.  

               The moment gave you the opportunity to change figures again. This time while his shirt shielded his face.  

               “Agent Hill.” Sam bit a lip and glanced down your body. “I’m glad you kept the shirt off, but still not the real you.”

               His hand went to your stomach and snaked down until it got to the top of your pants.  He gripped the waistband and pulled, sending the buttons flying and breaking the zipper in the process.  Your hips picked up from the floor with the movement and he slipped them off.  

               “Regardless of the form, you feel, don’t you?” Falcon ran his hand up one of your bare legs. “This is real, not an illusion?”

               His hands got to the top of your thigh and you let out a gasp when his fingers kept moving. It had been so long since anyone touched you like this.  

               “Even though I’m touching Maria, it is still you who gets the pleasure?”  Sam ran his finger up your slit.

               You moaned, not needing the foreplay.

               “I’d like to meet the person I’m actually touching though.” He pushed his hand back down and a finger circled your entrance.  “Figure out what they really like.”

                “What about you?” You shot up from the floor and put your hand on his shoulder. Rolling so that he was on his back and you were straddling him. “Are you real? Or is this just you messing with my mind?”

                “Oh, I’m real.” A dark haired blue eyed man looked up at you. “They say ladies always go for a guy who can make them laugh.”

               “Thanks for keeping the shirt off.” You dropped your hands to his waist and started to undo the pants. “I hear Scott Lang likes to play with ants.”

                You pushed yourself up and yanked down his pants as your image flipped again.  This time you grinned down at him now in the form of Aunt May.

               “Oh, you are cheeky.” Scott looked up at you with a huge smile. “And as much as I love an older woman and this fantastic body, I’m willing to bet yours is even better.”

                Scott’s hands went to your hips and he pulled you down on top of him.  You reached behind yourself and fisted his cock.  Playing this little game was making you extra horny, regardless of form. It appeared he was enjoying himself as well since he was rock hard.  

               “Tell me, when you change shapes will the size change as well.” You squeezed his dick and licked your lips at the same time.  

               “That piece of anatomy is all mine.” Steve Rogers was now the one you were straddling.  

               He pushed you back a little and pulled his cock forward so that you were right above him.  

               “Maybe we could give these two the love story they never got.” As you lowered yourself onto him you image flipped into Peggy Carter.

               “Ahhh,” you both moaned at the same time as he pushed inside of you and you lowered yourself down at the same time.  

               Steve kept his hands on your hips, but he didn’t take the lead as you started to ride him, rocking and rolling your hips.  

               “I think Cap is a little too gentle for a girl like you.”  An arm wrapped around your waist as Tony Stark sat up, pulling your chest against his. “I’m willing to be you like it when someone else takes control.”

               Tony started flexing underneath you, using his hand to pull your body back and forth at a fast rate.  

               You draped your hands over his shoulder as your clit brushed against him with each movement, the position giving you the ability to grind down on him.  

               “Maybe you deserve someone whose out of this world.” You skin flipped again and this time you pushed Gamora’s forehead against Tony’s.

               “I’m not familiar with this one.” Tony looked surprised, but he didn’t stop moving rocking you up and down while you ground on top of him.

               The pressure was starting to build and you let out a moan.  

               “Then let’s stick to everyone’s favorite.” Again your skin flipped and the bright red curls were in front of your face.

               Tony buried his head in Nat’s chest and started licking your nipples.  It made you pick up the pace as your mouth hung open, the need in your belly growing stronger.

               Woosh! You weren’t sure how he did it, but you found yourself on your back with him buried deep inside of you.

               “I see everything, but I can’t see you.” Vision’s maroon skin was too tempting and you let out a gasp as you pulled him down for a kiss.  

               Vision kept slamming into you and your orgasm was coming.  You tried your hardest to roll your body with his, chasing after the need while you moaned and panted.  

               The movement was enough and the coil in your belly sprung free.  You cried out and through your head back. The pleasure making you lose any sense of focus. You couldn’t hold onto the image of the black widow and your skin fluttered away.

               Your partner grunted and gave a final deep thrust. You felt his cock convulse as your eyes rolled back into your head.  He collapsed on top of you and it took a moment to form any coherent thought.  

               “Beautiful.” The weight above you moved. “The most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”  

               Your eyes opened and you looked down at your blue skin. It was too late to try and hide, but you didn’t know whether to believe what was in front of you.

               “And you?” If this were his true form it made sense.

               “In the flesh.” The demigod pulled his cock out of you making a reminder of pleasure shoot to your core.  “Oh, we are going to have such fun together love.”

               You didn’t know how to respond, especially when his fingers started tracing your curves.

               “I’ve changed my mind.” Loki leaned over and looked you in the eyes.  “ Why should you be anyone when you can be you?”      

jjh - together

words: 2.1k

tags: fluff, slight!angst, domestic!au, dad!jaehyun

warning: a bit of sexual content? Not really tho bcs I’m weak

a/n: THIS IS LIKE THE LONGEST ONE I MADE THIS YEAR and I enjoyed writing this so much maybe because its dad!jaehyun uwu

Oh yeah, this is written based on miss Desirée’s blurb on @nctream (she is like the most amazing babe you should check her out and shower her with love and support she also loves meme isnt she’s just perfect uwuuuu)

“I’ll do the dishes. It’s your turn to put Her Majesty Princess Jung of the Southern Isles to bed.”

Jaehyun gave you his dimply smile as your daughter mimicked the same gesture. They got up from the dining seats as soon as you left to put on your apron and rubber gloves. Jaehyun collected their plates and put them in the sink. He wishpered I love you into your ear as he stroked your side before he left to carry the girl in a pair of banana pajama in his left arm and leaving the other free to hold a fluffy stuffed animal.

“I’m not a princess anymore, Mama. I’m an astronout!” Missy exclaimed, head rested on her father’s broad chest.

“What? I’m sure you were a princess this morning.” You turned around to them with your ‘shocked’ face. “Where is my princess now?”

“I want to find a moon bunny Papa told me!” You laughed and nodded, raising both your hands as a sign that you were defeated.

Jaehyun kissed the tip of her head, “Alright baby girl, time to sleep. Let’s give Mama some goodnight kisses.”

You held up your chin. They walked closer toward you and smooched your cheeks at the same time. “Nighties Mama.” She waved you her small hand as they strolled away to the staircase. “Good night, sweet pumpkin.”

You got back to your chores. Letting the tap water soaked the dishes before you brushed them one by one with a soaped sponge. Taking your time with the activity, you let your mind wandered around what had been going on so far today. You got up first in the morning, woke Jaehyun up and made him check on Missy in her room next to yours. They did joined you minutes after you were done making Jaehyun’s morning coffee and the three of you had breakfast; some toasted whole wheat breads, sunny side ups and baked beans. And of course you prepared lunch box for your little now-an-astronout princess. Then you did took a quick shower before you left the house for work.  

It was routine you wouldn’t miss for the whole world.

On the other side, things at work were just demanding more and more of your attention. You worked for a renowned law firm as a senior lawyer. Your master degree indeed earned with real passion and talent. The job paid you real good money, but it also paid you cruel amount of pain in your head at times like this.

A fresh graduated intern who were chosen to assist you for the next quarter year decided to shoved half of your Attorney-Client Privilege papers you had been working on for couple weeks down the shredder. Not to mention how he messed up a joint representation meeting that afternoon. You knew you shouldn’t had blame him so much because he was an intern after all, and interns tend to make mistakes as they learn and grow from experience. But you couldn’t help comparing him to you; a perfectionist worker, barely made any mistake at work.

And to avoid all the problems happening at work, you decided to came home early (you knew it was rather cowardly, but better than to channel your anger there and cause a ruckus). So you chosed to relaxed a bit by cooking dinner, took a bubble bath with Missy (which you hadn’t done for a long while), and actually sent the nanny home early. 

Jaehyun was surprised when he saw you were home before him. But it was only for a moment until you had your meals together with laughters shared throughout the good hour spent in the dining room.

Missy told you how she painted a really big frog for her art class at the pre-school, and how her friends envied her for having a cutely arranged lunch box. She told you about her trips to school with Jaehyun as he took her there every morning. And it made you feel guilty.

You knew it had been both you and Jaehyun’s desicion to take turn to do everything involving Missy. But lately you felt Jaehyun was the one to do it all. You thought you got so busy with works and it made you grew apart from your task as a mother.

There were nights when projects and works got the best of you, so you didn’t got to spend them with your little family at home. Yes you prepared breakfast for them, you guys had small talk in the morning before all of you off to your own activities, but at night when you were home you had your daughter already asleep in her room.

Jaehyun might spared you hours to talk through the night or for your marriage intimacy, wishpering to your skin that it was okay for him to wait for you. But some nights were just too tiring for both of you to do anything and just slept on your side of the bed. It might not be every single night you came home late, but the idea of your little one forgetting how you put her to bed or sing her lullaby or simply being with her broke you a little inside.

You knew Jaehyun could sense your worries, that was why he kept sending you a soothing gaze across the dining table previously.

Jaehyun was a good—no, good is an understatement. He was a perfect husband. Screw those who said no one is perfect, you had one as your partner for more than five years and you knew, you knew no other word than perfect could fairly described him. Before you met him, you thought no other guy could ever compete with your work ethic. You lived long enough in a belief that no man would want a workaholic woman as a lifetime partner. But then Jaehyun came along.

You met Jung Jaehyun at your last year of internship at some attorney corporation party, and he was still a doctor in the making at that time. Your senior at your law school introduced you to him, a future town’s best cardiothoracic surgeon.

Long short story, he made you fall in love with him. And so he did head over heels in love with you. He was, you could say, like no one else. He was able made you realized that there was nothing to compete about if you love each other. He changed your long-believed belief that a workaholic just need an understanding partner. Like he understood every situation you had, like he was always know when you didn’t feel best. There was no time when he wasn’t there for you when you needed him. He was the one who make your worst day worth living.

Oh, how you would never take him for granted.

And it bugged you a lot that you thought you were the one who couln’t keep up with him now. Did Jaehyun really deserve a wife like you?

A pair of arms slinked around your waist brought you back to reality, turned out you had already finished washing the dishes. Jaehyun kissed your nape softly as you giggled. “You surprised me, Jae.”

“You didn’t hear me coming around?” You hummed and shook your head as you took off the gloves and Jaehyun did you a favor by untying the apron’s string. “Thinking about something else?”

You didn’t answer, instead, you spinned around and latched your arms around Jaehyun’s neck. His brown eyes stared down at yours, equally warm. He brought his lips closer and halted when they hovered milimiters above your lips, smiling as he rubbeb the tip of his nose to yours.

“It was just stuff at the office, nothing big.” You gripped the end of his hair. “How was your day at the hospital?”

“There was a transferred patient from a neighbor hospital. He needed a transfussion they couldn’t provide so we took over,” Jaehyun blew you a sweet kiss. “Nothing major.”

“No big surgery you have to perform?”

“One on Tuesday, I’m gonna lead an aneurysm repair. Other than that one are just CABGs. I’ll supervise the residents,” You smiled to his neck, blowing hot breath as you kissed it slowly. “You wanna talk about it in the shower?”

“Mm-mm, I had a bath with our baby already.”

“Oh right,” Jaehyun let out a chuckle. “Missy did mentioned how you guys took bubble bath together today,” He kissed you gently, you smiled between the kiss. “None of my girls bother inviting me to a bubble bath party anymore.”

You broke away, a grin plastered on your face. “Sorry, I didn’t know I’d be home so early.” You dragged your fingers through his hairs, kissing him back in the same manner as before. You leaned back, resting your tailbone to the cold sink.

“Things happened at work?”

Jeahyun regretted asking you that question because a second later, you broke the kiss away. This time you even pulled your arms from his neck, fingers drew straight lines down his ocean wide shoulders. No words spoken between the two of you during that roughly fifteen seconds moment. Jaehyun watched you closely as you started to open your mouth to speak. “You can talk to me...”

You inhaled, “Do you think I’m a bad mother?”

“And how did you get that silly idea?” Jaehyun frowned. Although his words are lighter, his expression held a deep concern.

You groaned out of frustration, still in your husband’s embrace. “I know we’ve talked about this. And I know you would never not support me nor go against me upon my decision to work after having Missy.

“But I can’t help feeling like a bad mother. I worked my whole damn days instead of being in the middle of you guys.” You sobbed, Jaehyun drew soothing infinity circles on your back. “I know I still go to every parent-teacher conferences, I know I made her breakfast and lunch for her and you. But I don’t want to grow apart from our baby, from you. From our family.

“But things are just, I dont know Jaehyun, messy? I feel so bad for not being there for you when you got home from work most nights. For not being here when Miss got back from school.” You couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down your face, “That’s, that’s not what a good wife do. Even my Mom told me to just quit my job and raise Missy properly.”

“Hey, come here,” Jaehyun laid his palm flat on the back of your head and pulled you in. He hushed you down before he said, “You would never ever be a bad mother for Missy. And you would never ever be a bad wife for me, okay?” you silently cried yourself out on his chest, afraid of waking your little sleeping beauty upstairs. “Maybe you don’t do what most mothers or wifes do. But it doesn’t make you a bad one. Just because the society wants to make you feel bad, doesn’t mean you’re doing bad. And working harder doesn’t make you love us less, honey.

“You’re the best Missy and I could ever ask for in our entire life.”

You engulved Jaehyun in a tight hug, keeping him in your arms like it was your last. You sworn, God sent Jaehyun to completed you. To entangle you in his summer-like embrace everytime you felt the cold that is your problems almost killed you. To ensure you that everything’s going to be alright everytime the weight of the world is on your case.

“I know your parents and mine are sometimes being too intervening. But I know they meant well, darling.” Jaehyun kissed your temple. “But you are Missy’s mother and I’m her father. We’re the one to decide how to raise her properly. Together. And I know we’ve done a great job seeing how sweet and caring she has become.”

You pulled yourself away. You smiled at him, erasing the sticky stain your tears left on your cheeks with the back of your hand. Jaehyun cupped your face, his eyes scanning all of your features one after another longingly.

“You’re so beautiful, angel.”

You brought your lips to his, molding them in yours as your fingers busied themselves unbuttoning Jaehyun’s white shirt. You could feel his hand at the base of your hips, caressing them softly yet invitingly. You knew you’d have to wear that turtle neck sweater to work, but you didn’t care at all. All you wanted now was for Jaehyun to draw galaxy across your body you’d have to cover tomorrow. But tonight, tonight you wanted him.

“Jaehyun,” you wishpered and he murmured against the kiss, “I don’t think three baths a day would hurt anyone.”

You did ended up with three baths that day; one quick shower in the morning, one bubble bath with your astronout princess, also one long and hot shower with your husband. And as the night rolled itself into dawn with you beside Jaehyun, you knew you made your best desicion by saying yes to his proposal years ago. Because now you knew, if it weren’t him and you together, you could never make it.

Tagalongs - SU Fanfic Chapter 5

Happy New Years everybody! Starting off 2019 with a new chapter. Sorry for the delay, was busy with work, school, and other stories. I wanted to also release the next chapter of No Home at the same time, but it should be ready in a week or two. Also, in regards to the recent episodes, keep in mind that this was made way before any of that and is a light-hearted AU. Otherwise, hope you enjoy! 

@directorhachi

Ms. Yellow finally stepped out of the conference room and shut the door behind her. Not stopping, she march straight to the nearest elevator and let it close. Once she was sure she was alone, and that no one was watching, she finally let her shoulders down and let out a sigh of relief.

Damn jackals, she thought. Try and make a power move in her tower will they? Not a chance. She pressed the button for her office floor. Well, she certainly showed them, and after that, hopefully next time they’ll know better than to cross her.

The elevators hummed quietly as she waited in silence, arms folded, to arrive. Finally she felt the elevator stop and the doors opened with a ding.

Now then, time to call the police and finally get those kids out of her-

Where were they?

They were not by the elevators where she left them. They were not here. They were gone. Why were they gone? Where were they?!

Yellow’s mind raced. Where could they be?

Wait, she left them with Pearl. Where was Pearl?

Ms. Yellow stalked out of the elevator with a rushed pace. Looking around, she could see a colossal mess by the printing machines, with the employees from Blue’s department picking up the pieces of what seemed to have been a catastrophic parchment explosion.

What on Earth happened around here? She hadn’t even been gone an hour!

Yellow’s thoughts turned to dreadful visions of legal action and the scandals that could follow if something were to have happened. Her company had enough bad rumors circulating about it as it was. She didn’t need child neglect added to the list. That would be a PR nightmare. They could be sued! Or worse!

The worst part about it was that, this was on her. She brought them in because she it would be safer- less risky to bring them in and resolve this quickly than to just let them wander around on the streets. Now she had no idea where they were and no control over the situation.

She turned her head and finally spotted her secretary. She was heading back towards the office, with the both kids secured firmly under each arm. Letting out a grunt of irritation, Yellow marched over to them in a huff.

“Oh Ms. Diamond, there you are! How did the meeting g-”

“Pearl!”

“IDIDN’TLOSETHEMISWEAR!”

“How many people know about them?” “Wait wha…?”

“How many people in the office know they’re here?”

“Weeeell...” she glanced uncomfortably at the wider floor.

“Oh lord, they all know don’t they?”

“I’m afraid so...” Meanwhile the children looked up and waved.

Ms. Yellow put a hand to her face and groaned.

“B-BUT, there’s absolutely no reason for anyone to connect them to you! Because of course, I would never divulge any of your personal affairs,” Ms. Pearl professed as she set the two back down.

“Good.” Yellow let out a covert sigh of relief. She did not need anyone in the office thinking she had gone soft. This whole situation was ridiculous enough as it is. “Stay here and prepare everything for the merger, I’ll take it from here.” She then snapped her gaze back down to the two wandersome children.

“You two, come with me!”

The two snapped a hasty nod and followed the tall CEO into the office and the door slammed shut behind them.

Inside it was a well-lit and very modern cubic space. Everything was perfect ordered and designed to radiate the utmost efficiency and authority. Warm yellow lamps hung from the ceiling and the books were arranged on their shelves in perfect straight rows. Her desk was on the other end of the room, meticulously clean almost to the point of barreness, while the guest seats were mathematically positioned in front of it to offer the ideal power distance.

“Wow! Is all this really yours?” Steven asked.

Yellow didn’t bother answering. She didn’t have time to answer obvious questions. She had to get back to work and finish all this so she can finally send these blasted kids home already! Here at least no one will bother her.

The boy spoke again. “So do you call people from here or...”

“Listen up, I have piles of work to do, and a limited window of time to do them. The sooner I get them done, the sooner you can be out of here!” she told them. “So keep quiet and don’t bother me anymore!”

Suddenly there was a long rumbling gurgle as their stomachs growled. The two looked up from their stomachs at her but didn’t say anything.

Yellow felt an eye twitch.

Two juice boxes and a box of raisins from the breakroom later, they were seated in one of the guest chairs, both of them in the same one.

Yellow finally settled down into her seat. At long last, she could get back to work. She began to pour through the torrents of emails, memos, and notices that flooded her screen, answering, filing, deleting, and organizing them all with industrious efficiency.

Once she returned a few phone calls, she can send them home. So one by one she listened, responded, gave orders, gave ultimatums, and deleted them. Sometimes she berated. Sometimes she veiledly threatened. Other times she offered assurances. Whatever was needed to keep the wheels turning.

She glanced at the clock. Still plenty of time left before the big meeting. She thought about calling the authorities now, but noticed her email notifications blinking again.

Alright, she had time, maybe she’ll check just a couple of more emails. She clicked through her inbox and saw how many of them there were already. Okay, maybe she’ll just quickly respond to a few of these and then-

The phone started ringing.

Okay, fine, she’ll just quickly deal with this and...

One thing after another. Five, ten, twenty, it just never seemed to end. Just one more thing, she kept telling herself. But it never was. It would all go by so much faster if the phone didn’t keep ringing, every second someone else demanding her attention.

The CEO pinched the bridge of her nose. No rest for the wicked, she thought to herself and her grumbling intensified.

Steven took notice of this and went up to Ms. Yellow’s desk. He placed something by her side. She looked down and saw that it was a juice box. She pretended not to notice, and Steven, thinking that she didn’t see it, pushed it a bit closer to her.

“Are you thirsty? You can have mine!”

“I don’t have time for such things,” She waved her hand at him dismissively.

Steven gasped in abject horror. “You don’t have time for yourself? But you-time is super important!”

“I have a multinational conglomerate and thousands employees to take care of first.”

“Mom says that working hard is good, but you shouldn’t work too hard. If you do that then you’ll get so tired your arms will fall off!”

“Oh really...” Ms. Yellow murmured absently.

Connie poked her head over the desk and chimed in. “My mom’s a doctor, and she says you should always stay hydrated. Steven’s mom’s also been talking her about making time to relax. Maybe you should talk to them?”

Oh she did not need this.

She didn’t go through eight years of university to be lectured by two kids who thought a box of cereal was a legitimate means of navigation. If she didn’t find some way to keep these kids occupied soon was she was going to go insane.

“Alright you two, if your going to lounge around in my office, then your going to at least make yourselves useful.” She pointed to Connie. “You, Connie was it? I’m putting you in charge of the answering machine.“

Connie came around side and tried to access the answering machine, but found she couldn’t reach. Determined, and with Ms. Yellow waiting on her, Connie looked around and figured something out. She pulled out a few of Ms. Yellow’s drawers to form a staircase. The executive watched this clever little problem-solving with mild amusement before deciding to make this easier on herself and her desk. She picked up the girl from under her arms and sat her down on her desk.

The CEO pointed to the answering machine. “Every time the phone rings, push this button right here. Got that?”

“The one that says ‘Ignore’?”

“Correct.”

“Yes ma’am!”

Right on cue, the phone began to ring, and as instructed, Connie pressed the button with her finger and the ringing stopped.

“Very good, keep doing that.”

Next, she pulled out a stack of papers from her desk drawer, tapping them against her desk before handing them to Steven. “And you, take these papers and go shred them.”

The boy gave a salute. “Yes ma’am, ms. boss lady!” before taking the papers and running off with them.

There, that should keep them occupied for a while, Ms. Yellow thought. Though she might have to consult Yevona later on about whether this constitutes as child labour or not...

Finally free of the endless parade of nagging phone calls, Ms. Yellow was finally able to focus herself back on clearing her emails. Without the constant distractions she was actually able to make some headway. In a way, she was almost able to relax. She was in her element, productive and undistracted, with the periodic phonecall swiftly silenced by Connie, and the boy taking care of the pesky paperwork. She just felt like she had less to worry about.

After a while though, she noticed that she hadn’t actually heard the sound of paper shredding yet…

She looked up as Steven returned to her desk. To her confusion, he laid out several papery objects on her desk. After a moment, she realized these had once been the papers she gave him. He had turned them into an assortment of paper chains and angels.

“All done!” he saluted.

Yellow looked at him for a moment. “I suppose I didn’t actually say to use the paper shredder…” She hadn’t intended for her tax returns to be turned into arts and crafts, but at this point, she was much too tired to object. At least they were shredded.

The intercom buzzed and she smacked the receiver with a hand.

“What is it?” she demanded impatiently. Couldn’t anyone leave her alone for a few minutes?

It was Ms. Pearl. “Ms. Diamond? It’s almost time for your big afternoon meeting. Shall we get going?”

Yellow looked back up at the clock. She hadn’t realized how much time had past! It was already almost time for the big merger. Yellow cursed herself for getting so distracted. She had wasted too much time and now there wasn’t enough time to call the police!

She put her face in her hands as she groaned.

Ms. Yellow got up and headed for the door. She was about to open it when something occurred to her. Wait, how would it look if she walked around the whole building with two kids trailing her? She would look ridiculous! But she couldn’t leave them with Ms. Pearl again, this time she actually needed her secretary with her. She looked back at the kids who were watching her. Leaving them with another employee was out of the question, she couldn’t risk something happening again while she was gone. To her dismay, she realized that would have to take the kids with her. Yellow groaned again.

She’d have to find a way to keep this all under wraps...

The kids watched as Ms. Yellow took out her wallet and opened it.

"If anyone asks, you’re my interns. Then, give them this and ask them if they understand,” she told them as she pressed something papery into each of their hands and Steven and Connie looked down at it. In each of their hands was a hundred-dollar bill.

They looked up at her in confusion.

“They'll know what it means."

With that, she swung the door open and marched out, Steven and Connie in tow. Her secretary didn’t miss a beat and quickly fell in line beside her. On the way they passed the cubicles and the printer ladies again, who were still cleaning up the mess from before. Yellow had hoped to slip out unseen without much fuss. They seemed rather ensconced in their work, so perhaps they would be able to slip out unseen without much fuss.

“HEY, HEY LATER KIDDIES!”

Today was just not Yellow’s day...

A big one with a noticeable curl in her hair shouted, waving her arms wildly at them trying to get their attention. Yellow flinched and tried to pick up the pace. The other employees around her also took notice of who she was waving at and followed suit. The kids did not help matters.

The two turned and waved to the rest of the floor. “BYE EVERYBODY!” They shouted back, matching their volume. The printer ladies were hollering and waving, behind them some of the other nameless workers in the cubicles also waved a little. Even the two lawyers standing in the breakroom doorway bid a gesture of farewell.

Ms. Yellow grumbled something unintelligible to herself and hurried them all out.

Hostile Takeover

This is the Hostile Takeover series: Part One. For all other parts and additional IkeSen works by me, see here.

Cars puttered along on the crowded city street below him. A thousand myriad flashes of color wove in and out, tiny little lives transpiring like ants far, far beneath the office window. The city stretched out like an infinite horizon for the taking, a territory to behold and take stock of, and--for not the first time--Nobunaga was very pleased with the renovations to his office. The broad, full length windows thrust light across his black walls, the glass and steel and leather furniture gleaming. A bookshelf containing important documents for Azuchi, Inc. rested nearby, a rack of immaculately maintained, ancient katana on display above it.  

“Sir.”

Hideyoshi Toyotomi, his Vice President and right-hand man, rapped on the door before coming in. Nobunaga spun in his chair and smiled proudly. 

“It looks like a good day today,” Nobunaga commented. “How are the numbers from this morning?”

“Very good, sir.” He unfolded a document and set it on the desk, pulling up a side chair for himself. “The stockholders are pleased. It looks like our canvassing initiative to get more banking customers is going well. Our profit margin is widening nicely.”

“Great. And our brand recognition?”

“We’re holding steady against Uesugi-Takeda, Inc, around 80%.”

That was good news. Nobunaga rocked back in his chair, satisfied. “Any positive news coverage?”

And at that, Hideyoshi paused, a strange crinkle emerging between his brows. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. I know we had spoken about how Time was going to do a bit on banking and customer recognition, correct?”

“Yes?” 

“And how we were asked for a comment, so we were thinking we might be featured?”

Nobunaga cocked a brow. “Yes? Get on with it.”

“Well...” And Hideyoshi produced a copy of Time, flipping to the appropriate page. And there, in tiny little fonts, were mentions of both Azuchi Bank and U-T Bank--dwarfed by another, much larger headline: CHATELAINE BANK: SERVING YOUR NEEDS.

“Who is that?” Nobunaga demanded, picking up the article. 

“I did a little research. It’s a small, local branch, but they’re getting quite a following. They’ve operated for about two years, now. It looks like their whole ‘thing’ is charity. They offer financial literacy courses for free, assistance to homeless customers needing housing loans, low interest student loan assistance...”

“Interesting.” Nobunaga snapped it shut and tossed it back to Hideyoshi. “They’ll be gone in a year.”

A year later, and Chatelaine Bank was becoming a real thorn in his side. 

Twice, local media outlets that had so faithfully covered Azuchi Bank’s yearly charity drive were now bringing attention to the Chatelaine Bank daily offerings. Shareholders were concerned. Nobunaga studied this new rival’s press releases and plans, but always passed them back off to Ieyasu and Mitsunari with barely concealed confusion. “How is this working? Their margins are so tiny they should have tanked by now. They practically invest in high-risk customers.”

“Yes, but that spirit seems to attract customer loyalty by the bushel.” Mitsunari pushed up his glasses with a bright smile. “It’s an admirable mission statement.”

“How about you shut up,” Ieyasu snapped sourly back. 

Two years and losing a bidding war for a coveted location to Chatelaine Bank later, and Nobunaga had enough. 

“Buy them out.” He shoved the details of their offer to Mitsuhide, who reviewed them with his characteristic dry smile. “Just get this damn nuisance out of my hair.”

They sent off the offer. 

It came back marked RETURN TO SENDER, unopened. 

Three years and a slice into his customer base later, and Nobunaga was losing his patience. They sent off another offer (after double-checking the address) and it was sent back similarly unopened. 

“I’m done with this game,” he snapped, and shot up from his desk. “Hideyoshi.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Get me an appointment with Chatelaine Bank’s CEO.”

“Right away.”

Apparently phone calls worked. They got through to a chipper and infinitely polite secretary who marked him down for around four o’clock (at the same damn location that they’d been sending their offers to, but he did his best to ignore that). Printing off a fresh offer and putting on a new Armani suit, Nobunaga parked his shiny black car by a modest office complex with the CHATELAINE BANK brand stamped across the top. It was hardly state of the art, but he supposed it was still small and worked on very thin profit margins. Presenting his ID to the security guard, he was escorted back into a small waiting room, directly across from the secretary. 

“She’ll be right with you, Mr. Takeda,” the lady chirruped. 

“I’m not Shingen.” Nobunaga cocked his brow. She flushed red with embarrassment. 

“I’m so sorry. Mr. Takeda was here earlier, it was a slip, Mr. Oda. My apologies.”

So U-T Bank was courting them, too? And they’d sent Shingen? Nobunaga crossed his legs and contemplated the bizarre turn of events until a woman stepped out from her office. 

“Mr. Oda?”

He stood up immediately, appraising the woman before him. She was quite pretty. Her hair was pulled back into a loose wave at the nape of her neck, a soft grey suit and skirt tailored neatly to her frame. She didn’t look much like an executive--but, then again, he guessed that ‘homey’ was the kind of culture they cultivated here. 

“That would be me, Mrs...?” He extended his hand to her and she took it, shaking a lot firmer than he’d expected. 

“Most here just call me Mrs. Director.” She smiled at him and backed up, offering the doorway to him. “Please. Coffee?”

“No, thank you. I had some not long ago.” Besides, he liked his a specific way and he doubted they carried his brand. Nobunaga sailed into her office and cast his eyes around, measuring up the woman before him by her things. Nothing much here betrayed her. If she were married, there was no ring, nor were there any photos of herself, children, men, pets... A diploma hung on the wall from a prestigious university. Well, that was something. Most of the furniture was cozy and accepting, more like a formal living room than an office. 

“Water, then?” She offered again, settling in behind her desk and crossing her legs. 

“No, I’m well accounted for.” Nobunaga sat on the edge of a comfortable chair, setting his paperwork on her desk. “We’ve attempted to reach you a few times, Mrs. Director, to no avail. I hope you realize we’ve noticed in Azuchi Bank that you’ve done quite well for yourself.”

She was smiling at him, but the expression was so steely and edged that he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. “Oh? I’m flattered that you’ve noticed.”

“I’ll be frank. I’m not the sort of man to make idle small talk and dance around something.” He set a hand on the papers and shoved them toward her. She made no move to take it. “We would very much like to propose a merger.”

“Merger?” Her brow flitted almost imperceptibly upwards. 

“Yes.”

“You can just say ‘buy-out’.” 

Ah. Nobunaga measured her carefully, feeling the atmosphere of the room change. She knew. “I take it you did, in fact, receive our correspondence before.” 

“I think I recall something to that effect.” She hedged, and it was so impossibly polite that it made him boil with rage. “Or that might have been the Uesugi-Takeda Bank offers I’m recalling.”

“And you haven’t even looked at the offers?” He struggled to keep his voice level. Of all the impertinent, sarcastic, impossible people to deal with, she was going to be the worst. He just knew it. 

“I think Chatelaine Bank is doing quite well on its own.” She tilted her head and stared at him, level, measured, unflappable, and he felt himself frown. “Wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re operating on a shoestring budget,” he started, his calm wavering, “with two other major banks in the same population as you, and nothing more than quaint ideals to advertise for you.”

“Our quaint ideals are what attract our customers.” Her eyes flashed now, that smile vanishing, and Nobunaga nursed the private joy that he’d wiped that infernal expression off her face at last. “We are for the people, by the people, and that is what the people come for. Thirty percent of our customers are switching from Azuchi or U-T Bank, and you both would be well served to realize that. I didn’t get into this business to make a difference, only to turn my work over to someone who would so entirely ruin it to line his pockets.”

“Did you accept my appointment just to insult me?” He snapped at last. “Or to gloat? Either are insufferable traits.”

“I am not the one trying to bully and railroad.”

“As if I’ve been doing any of that.”

“Oh, please.” 

They both shot to their feet at once, eyes locked. She stared down at him--and how did she manage that, when she was so much shorter than he?--with utter disdain evident in every pore of her skin. 

“Have a good day,” he spat. “Consider the offer.”

With one gentle hand, she took the bundle of paperwork, picked it up, and dropped it in her shredder. “Consider it considered.”

Turning on his heel, Nobunaga stormed out. 

The Rise of the TMNT First Thoughts

Being that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles has always been, what I consider, my biggest fandom, I feel it’s only natural I leave my two cents on what we know so far of their upcoming 4th animated series, Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and what everybody’s been saying about it recently.

So the official designs were finally release, and of course, everybody’s mad, freaking out, and acting as if all hope for humanity is gone. I’ll be honest, the character designs are not immediately appealing to me, but something needs to be clarified first...

The most common complaint I see is “the art style sucks”. Now, it’s fair to say that the style doesn’t appeal to you personally, but discrediting these obviously talented artists and their extremely expressive and lively style is just a lie and/or lack of any real knowledge of artistic skill. Is it an appropriate style for the TMNT? That’s up to you to decide for yourself, but saying it is bad artwork is just ignorant. 

Now, just to make things clear, I myself am not super into these designs, and feel the style isn’t the best representation of what TMNT is, but I’ll never say it’s bad, and will continue to stay optimistic. Let’s not forget that most of us, myself included, were hating on the 2012 series hardcore after its initial debut. While I still don’t find the art style choice or designs to be the most appealing in the 2012 series, there’s no denying it is an amazing series - arguably the best writing the franchise has ever had. While it isn’t MY Turtles, which will always be the 87 Turtles, it’s a damn good version, and one I’m proud to see younger generations grow up with.

But when we heard April and Casey were teens, saw the Turtle designs, saw how huge Splinter was, we all wrote off the 2012 series with having never see it. Once we saw it, then we had to eat our words. Let’s not walk into the same trap over and over again. In this day and age everybody’s so quick to give a severe black and white, night and day opinion on something before even knowing much about it. You’d think we’d get sick of constantly having to apologizing for judging something based on a picture reveal when it comes out. Not saying this in particular will turn out to be great. It might suck. But we can’t possibly know that yet, so let’s stay optimistic and at least happy that our favorite franchises are being kept alive and given consistent love through the generations. The age of the self-entitled, crabby, whiny man-baby/woman-baby nerds has to end. 

As for those concerned about the story changes, I get your concern. But, again, it isn’t the first time the team was completely re-worked. April and Casey Jones as teenage kids was already a crazy enough change in the 2012 series, but then take into account April was also part mutant which gave her psychic powers, and she discovered a gem she wore around her neck that brought out evil in her and strengthened her powers to be Thanos-level is a REALLY huge departure from the prior iterations, and a seemingly stupid as hell direction on paper. Hell, Irma was a teenager revealed to be a robot body for a Krang spy. They REALLY took their liberties in the 2012 series. Even one of the most popular additions, Don’s crush on April, was completely new for that series. 

My inner TMNT-fanchild does get a bit ticked when he hears that now Raph will be the leader and Leo will be cool and narcissistic, but we gotta remember what this is. Not only a new retelling for a new generation, but a retelling of a franchise that has been retold and severely altered dozens of times. No two Turtles stories add up. Also, this is being targeted strongly at little kids. Raph has always been the most marketable Turtle, the most iconic and widely referenced/recognized, and most popular among children, so making him the leader isn’t too shocking too me. Hell, even Partners in Kryme didn’t know Raph was’t the leader back in 1990 in the official film.

One thing I’ve heard a lot of hate for is the fact that April O’Neil is African American in the new series. It’s a difficult topic to touch upon, but I feel there’s good and bad points to it. The good is obviously getting more diverse representation in lovable, iconic roles in media, especially those for younger audiences. The bad, however, is like Stan Lee once said in regards to race-bending characters. Getting diversity in media is wonderful, but changing a pre-existing, well-established and celebrated character’s ethnicity simply to meet the quota is sort of a cheap shot. April, in all animated forms, has been a red-headed Irish girl I(hence the last name). It’s just as iconic to her as the fact that Leonardo wears blue and wields katana. Ethnicity, while a touchy subject, is a part of somebody. If they want diversity, they should add new characters of diverse backgrounds, or at least change lesser supporting roles, or at least that’s how I feel. Again, it’s a touchy subject, so I can totally understand somebody disagreeing, and that’s fine to do so.

Ultimately I feel everybody just needs to cool their jets on this. We see this happen SO often with franchises these days. The internet has sadly contributed towards heightening the selfishness of fandoms, and exaggerated opinions on everything. Every fan likes to think that their version is the definitive version, and that they are superior for liking the version they do. Everybody’s free to like what they like, and even if something you don’t care for comes out, it doesn’t take your version away from you. Each TMNT series ran for years. Whichever version you prefer, there is more than enough to watch to feed your hunger. 

So how do I feel? Hard to say. I never regularly watched episodes of any TMNT animated series outside of the 87 series, but I always give each show many viewings before judging it. While this is surely not my TMNT, nor do I predict it become a fandom of mine, I’m still hyped for it, staying optimistic, and impressed by the artwork, for the most part. This art style looks like it could really make way for some great action scenes. There are some changes I’m not sold on, like some of the altered weapons and personalities, but, again, there’s 30 years worth of TMNT content with the old weapons and personalities, and I’m still giving this show the benefit of the doubt before really seeing it. I’m actually really curious to see the villain designs. Shredder could look awesome in this style. And if they bring in Bebop and Rocksteady I’ll be pretty darrn happy. At the very least, this series is once again making me excited to see which of my childhood characters will return. Mondo Gecko? Rat King? Wyrm? Mona Lisa? Slash? The Neutrinos? I’d love to see how this unique re-imagining could put a new spin on  old favorites, and breathe new life into my favorite cast of mutants since 1987.

Here’s staying positive, and let’s not make the pre-release Sonic Boom mistake twice. That cartoon turned out to be comedy GOLD (and actually my favorite Sonic cartoon to date).

And PLEASE, let’s remember there are far greater wrongs being done in the world than cartoon characters being redesigned.

From Different Dimension Ch9

And this, darlings, is the last chapter! This had almost completely different ending and all (at least about Shredder) but this was so much more better, ahahah! When I started to write it all just came out on it's own so I take it as a sign it came from my own vortex and then you don't try to stop or correct it, etc. xD I want to thank you all who has read this fic, fave / like and comment it and sorry it took so long for me to finish this. I planned this fic to be longer but... something just happened and I lost inspiration and ideas but I'm glad this last chapter came out nicely. *********

*This fic will be about 2014 turtles with the hints of 2016 turtles. -- For weeks and months we took turns to teach little Leo read, write and count and much for all of our surprise little Leo was doing amazingly well. He was fast to learn like big bro Leo. Another thing what warmed all of us was the fact little Leo had started to spend more time with Splinter – in the dojo as well. One day Splinter invited us to watch their training and my heart swell with joy and pride as I saw Leo doing basic katas. So he had found martial arts to be interesting even a little bit! At least as a small self defensive if nothing else since I knew he hated violence. After little show Splinter smiled as he bend down and whispered something in little Leo’s ear, his eyes turning big and bright. He ran past us while Splinter ordered us in the living room and sit. We waited Leo to arrive and take his place with play piano. Glancing once at Splinter’s direction he received a nod, nodding once back. Sitting down on the floor piano in front of him, he took deep inhale turning power on. He looked nervous. Small fingers took their place on piano’s keys, firmly with confidence starting to press them all in order, playing beautiful music to us. So this was that secret little thing what Splinter had been teaching him in his room all these months! From the corner of my eye I saw a shadow spreading on the floor as April appeared in the lair, stopping in her spot, not wanting to disturb little player. When music finally faded away we all cheered and clapped for little embarrassed and blushing turtle who couldn’t hide his happy smile. Mikey was the first who went to pet his little head, praising him from Earth to Heaven, April soon following his lead. “Oh my gosh, Leo, that was beautiful! How did you learn to play piano?” Shyly he lifted his hand and pointed at Master with small smile on his face. April couldn’t help but to smile warmly at our master. “I have to admit, Splinter, I’m surprised you had such gift yourself. Never knew you could play piano.” “I didn’t. I had to teach myself first before I could teach little Leo.” Walking behind small turtle Splinter placed his hand on Leo’s head, petting it. “I’m most happy and proud I could teach myself and then teach him. He will become great pianist some day.” Watching father smiling all warmly down at little Leo, who smiled back at him, was wonderful. It was like if one of our biggest goals with Leo had been achieved. “So what brings you here?” Hearing Leonardo’s voice made me remember we indeed had visitor so I too, with curiosity, turned my eyes on April. Standing now side by side with Mikey April looked at us. “I have some news for you guys.”

“You have found someone and are getting married? You are pregnant? Are you moving away from NY?!” I found it hilarious how red faced April lifted her hands in front of her, swinging them furiously. “No, no, no, no and NO! For God’s sake, Mikey, NO!” “Then what is it?” Typical Leonardo. Standing there all tall and firmly, arms crossed on his chest as his strict eyes kept staying on human, his expression tight and unreadable. April sighed as she took a piece of paper out of her pocket, handling it to Don. “I received a message about unnatural signals outside of the city. Some police troops have been sent there to investigate it but they have… vanish or found dead. I’m heading there myself but I wanted to come to ask would you care to join me?” I snorted amused. “Too scared to go there by yourself, oh fearless news reporter?” “It’s not that, Raphael. It just… I have a feeling this might be Shredder’s doing and you guys know him better than I do.” “It indeed does sounds like Shredder’s doing. Donnie, get everything what you think we need and let’s get ready. April, you stay here with Splinter and little Leo. Raph and Mikey, get weapons.” “Yes, sir!” Mikey ran away like eager little boy who he still was inside. After I made my way to weapon wall, putting my sais in my belt, I felt slight pluck. Little Leo looked up at me worried so I smiled at him, tapping his head gently. “Don’t worry, little guy, I’ll be back soon. We just go investigate, nothing more.” He hugged my leg long and tight, slightly refusing to let go of me so I had to ask Splinter’s help. Father was so calm and caring, like always, and he managed to make Leo let go of me. Promising once more I would come back I ran in garage where bros were waiting for me already. Jumping in our garbage truck Don hit it and soon our safe home was left behind. – Parking our truck in shadows of trees we made our way out as quiet and fast as we could, weapons ready. Leaning us more closer Leonardo turned to look at us, giving us hand signals we should spread but stay eye sight away from each other and stay silent. We did as we were ordered and soon enough we came close to this square where Shredder were with few Foot ninjas and he also had weird portal device with him. Bending down behind the bushes we observed and listened. “Hurry, you fools! Krang won’t like waiting. We need to open the portal as soon as possible and let him come here. With him I can get so much power that none, especially those damn turtles, won’t stop me!” I turned to look our leader who seemed not pleased at all, his mind creating a plan for us immediately. Giving us a sign to join him we all crawled silently around our bro who gave us orders with silent whispers. “Here’s the plan since we are not completely sure what’s going on. Raph, you take on 6 ninjas from the left. Mikey, I will leave rest 6 ones to you. If you need help, which I doubt, Raph will aid you. I will take the Shredder. Don, your job is to take the portal and then we leave. Everyone in the truck as fast as possible after Don’s ready. Understood?” “Awh, come on! Can’t we just have more fun with them?” “No. We have no idea who this Krang is, how strong he is, what he’s going to bring here via portal with himself and so on. Better be safe than sorry. We will come for them later if needed. Now let’s go.” And so we went and our ambush was success. Shredder had no idea what hit them as we attacked on them from the shadows, taking our targets. During the fight I kept taking look from the corner of my eye how my bros were doing and they seemed to be doing fine. Hearing Don’s voice and then Leo’s we all retreaded as fast into the shadows as we could, driving away and leaving screaming Shredder behind. Back at home Don took this small round shaped portal into his lab and we gave him space and time to work on it. Leonardo, as usual, gave report to Splinter, Mikey focused on eating, April was chatting with Splinter and Leo while I was with little Leo. He was sitting in my lap on the floor coloring pictured from his new coloring book what April had brought him. After hours and hours Donatello finally came to us pushing his glasses back on his nose better. “What have you found, my son?” Waiting patiently Splinter eyed our brother who finally told us what he knew. “I found out Krang is alien brain so to say. A rare life form from different dimension so to say. Somehow he has found Earth and managed to contact Shredder, manipulating him to build that teleport so that he could arrive on Earth. Most surely to conquer it since what else bad guys do?” Chuckling a bit to himself Don got serious again and continued. “I studied Shredder’s teleport and I have to say; It was horribly done even that it would had work. Just amateur work! It was painful to watch it! And for a some reason either Shredder or one of his scientists had add memory card in the portal and saved all files about Krang in there. What amateurs! I got all the info from it!” “So if we have teleport Shredder won’t be able to summon this Krang here on Earth?” Leonardo said rather to himself out loud. “Correct but there’s a chance Shredder can build new one if he have blueprints.” “So this means we need to go beat his ass and destroy his place? “Raphael.” “Sorry, Sensei.” “It seems so.” Surprised by Leonardo’s reply I watched him standing up, looking each of us. “Get ready. We go there as soon as we can. We won’t give Shredder time to build new portal.” “Ahaha oh yeah! Right on!” Me and Mikey seemed to be the only excited ones while Splinter shook his head. After gearing up once more we were on the move. – We crashed into Shredder’s lab through the doors where we found him and his scientists building already a new portal. “Stop right there, Shredder!” “Why should I, turtles? You stole my first portal.” “We won’t let you bring Krang here to hurt people and Earth with him.” “You turtles are fools indeed. I wasn’t going to share Earth with him. I already had this plan in my mind before you crawlers appeared.” “And that was?” Turning to look Mikey Shredder sighed deeply in annoyance. “I was going to lure him on Earth, make you turtles kill him for me and steal his technology so that I could travel in space and conquer planets and dimensions!” “And you tell us this because…?” “It’s my farewell gift to you since you won’t leave here alive. Foot ninjas, attack!” Suddenly we were surrounded and fight was on. I admit there were many of them but while we kept most of them busy, Leonardo went after Shredder as Don went to destroy blueprints and everything about the portal, including the beginning of new portal. I watched Mikey’s back as few scientists ran past us out of the room but I couldn’t blame them. They most surely were forced to work for Shredder so I had no any intentions to go after them and kill them. Standing on top of Foot ninja pile Mikey laughed as we gave high tree to each other, looking at Leo’s direction. He was doing fine, like always and expected, but we wanted to have a piece of Shredder as well. Appearing right next to our big bro we gave him time to take a breath. Loud crack and buzz sounds came behind Shredder with sparks as Don were happily smashing computers into pieces. Usually he never had a heart do such cruel thing to computers, which all were his babies, but this time he seemed to enjoy it. Let him have his fun. Mikey and I attacked on Shredder as Leo stood behind catching his breath but joined us soon. I must hand it to Shredder – fighting against all tree of us was impressive. Sensei hadn’t warn us about him for nothing. There were tight situations in turns but together we made it every time, almost every time. Shredder, as a bad guy, didn’t play fair. All of the sudden something was sprayed in our eyes and we all screamed holding them. It stung and burned so much and we heard Shredder laughing hard. “M-MY EYES! MY BEAUTIFUL EYES!!” “Focus, my brothers, focus! Losing one ability won’t stop us! Use your other senses!” Standing still weapons at hands we stood still despite the burning pain in our eyes while listening the sound of metal when Shredder walked towards us. Luckily he wore such armor which made so loud noise so we could hear him well. Suddenly there was sound of some sort of splash and Don’s scream soon followed it. “Guys, get back!” We automatically jumped as far away as we dared and Shredder’s painful scream, with the smell of burning flesh, echoed in the room with loud buzz and crack sounds. When it finally turned quiet, smoke and horrible smell still lingering in the air, Don came to gather us in one spot, wiping out eyes with water. “What the shell?” “Pepper spray. Dirty move from Shredder but in fights bad guys always use low tricks.” Finally, and slowly, getting our eyes open everything was blurry and tears kept leaking out of our eyes as they tried to clean themselves. Damn, this sucked! “The Shredder?” Leonardo asked keeping his hand on Don’s shoulder. “No worried. He’s melted so to say.” Don chuckled but calmed down and gave a proper answer. “After smashing computers I saw water bottles on the table. Workers drinks for sure, and sparkling electricity wire on the floor and then the idea hit me. Why fight when we could fry Shredder? I know it’s horrible but hey, everything’s allowed in a fight.” “… You know that has been dirty move, Donnie. No honor in there.” Looking down Don felt Leo’s gaze staying on him. “I know but it was the only thing what I could think of in that situation. I needed to save you guys.” Small smile spread on my big brother’s face as he tapped Donatello’s shoulder. “You did the right thing. Don’t worry about it. Despite the fact I like to fight with honor, sometimes some situations demands actions what are not so honorable but still will save your family. Good job, Don. Good job, everyone. I suggest we leave now. Our work here is done.” And we all agreed. I didn’t want to admit it but I was quite exhausted after the fight… Mikey even more tho. He whined and complained so I got him on my shell and carried him down to our truck. Back at home we told what had happened and Splinter seemed so relieved, April and little Leo cheering for us. – Few months later it was finally Christmas and I gotta admit it, our life had become so much more relaxed and easier now that Shredder was out of the picture. And this – this was our very first Christmas without worry or stress about him. We had a good time together with April with us but our main focus was little Leo who never hadn’t experienced Christmas. At first he was confused when he got so many gifts, unsure to open them but with little encouragement he started to open them, his eyes growing and glowing more and more with each gift. He got gifts what Leonardo had got him with April’s help all those months ago, including small bear plush from toy store which Leonardo had mentioned to me in the past. There were some warm clothes what April had got, more toys, color books, candies which seemed to be huge and exciting mystery to little turtle. But all in all he was happy and so were we. Life was good, just the way how I liked it. 5 years passed in peace and little Leo had grow a lot. He had gain some muscles but was still kind of thin compared to us. Master Splinter had kept training him until his age had stepped in a way, leaving little Leo’s training to our leader, Leonardo. Of course we couldn’t call little Leo as ‘little’ anymore so we just called him L. Our day had been normal with our routines when suddenly something shined from Don’s lab and we all rushed there to see what was going on. Donatello went at the back of his lab and soon came in living room portal in his hands. What Don had learned about it in the past it could change its size smaller or bigger. It had stayed small and nonactive all these years so why it now, all of the sudden, activated on its own!? We all stepped back as Don threw it away out of his hands, portal mysteriously standing tall on its spot getting wider and rounder. Finally it stopped and we waited weapons ready to see what it would show but much for our surprise it showed sunny summer sky with sun and blue sky. It was weird and seemed harmless but we stayed ready for anything as Leonardo ordered us with hand signs. Soon we heard something moving, silent whispers and it shocked us when 3 turtles started us back with older rat. I-it couldn’t be! Shock in their faces reflected the same shock what we were feeling. Stepping forward Leonardo put his swords away and bowed deeply. It felt a bit awkward but he stood tall and introduced himself. “I’m Leonardo Hamato. Clan leader of Hamato clan in New York city. May I ask who you are? So far what we know we should be the only mutant turtles.” Second Splinter stepped forward and he had very similar energy to our Master, but this Splinter was younger than our father. He too bowed and introduced himself. “Forgive us for all the trouble what we might have cause with this sudden action. My sons and I were out of enjoying lovely summer day at the lake when we found this old device in the dirt. My son, Raphael, touched it and it activated. Somehow it created connection between our worlds.” “Fascinating… So there’s another world where… we exist as well.” Donatello murmured louder to himself, younger Don nodding eagerly on the other side. I listened the chat what seemed to become more easy and friendly while eyeing younger versions of us but something bothered me. “Where’s Leonardo of yours?” All they suddenly froze and turned to look their master in sadness. There also was great sadness in other Splinter’s eyes. I instantly regretted asking that stupid question. “With all respect, Splinter, tell us since I too am curious to know this.” Leonardo said as we all agreed with him with nods. Sighing deeply he started talking. “We just didn’t came to enjoy beautiful summer day at the lake. We came to visit my oldest son’s grave as well which lies near the lake under a wild cherry tree… It was his favorite tree...” Sighing one more Splinter lowered his ears and head. “He died today 5 years ago.” It turned all silent since none of us really didn’t know what to say until L came in front of the portal, smiling at his other brothers. Seeing our younger versions wide and surprised expressions with Splinter’s surprised eyes, he turned to look at us, pointing slowly at himself and then them. Splinter moved his ears a bit as he made his way to L, placing his hand on young man’s shoulder who was now taller than he was. “So you wish to go there to live with them? Be their Leonardo?” I should have felt happy, I guess, but seeing Leonardo smiling and nodding once in firm way… It broke my heart into pieces, sinking all the remains into my toes. My father turned to look at us and I noticed he noticed my teary eyes even that I fought against those little bastards. “Are you all alright with it if our little Leonardo, who’s grown up now, will go live with another turtle family? That is if you all accept Leonardo in your family.” Other Splinter nodded. “Of course we will. It would be a great honor.” Mikey was crying already but he nodded wiping his eyes. “Yeah. S-sure. I just… I hate saying goodbye. It has been so much fun to have you here, L.” Seeing slightly moist but happy eyes staying on Mikey, closing only for the moment of hug what he received from my little brother. Don sniffed a bit but he too hugged our little guy wishing him all the luck. Leonardo was more formal, like always, bowing deep sharing warm smile to his younger self. “You have grown up to be a fine turtle, L. It was an honor to know you and have you with us. Know that you always have home and a family here for you if you need us. We will miss you greatly.” Taking one bigger step forward Leonardo sealed L in his arms, hugging him ever so firmly and gently. Splinter was next as he too hugged his fifth son, leaving his arms rest on those shoulders. “Never forget who you are. Never forget what we have taught to you and just like Leonardo said, you always have home here with us and we are always here if you need us. It was great pleasure to meet you and raise you, my son. Be strong and honorable in your new world and home.” L smiled lovingly nodding slowly once, hugging Splinter once more. It was painful and beautiful at the same time. His own Splinter had been a total evil and my father had been totally wonderful and loving father who had have big influence in L’s life. My father had managed to show him love, support and guidance what L never hadn’t had before. Finally those blue eyes turned on me and I couldn’t handle it. Not the way how those eyes looked at me. They were full of gratitude, love and sorrow. With shaky feet I walked to him and knelt down, looking up in those bright blue eyes. “I… should be happy since a whole new world and life is ahead of you with your new family… But I’m not.” This seemed to shock and surprise him and my brothers. Pulling L in my arms I hid my face against his shoulder. “I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay. I… I raised you like my own son and letting you go… It hurts and scares me. I no longer wouldn’t be there for you. Protect you. Watch your back. I would lose you for good if I let you go through that portal. I love you too much to let you go.” L rubbed his cheek gently against mine, petting the backside of my head and neck. His hands were small and gentle, moves full of care and comfort. He was comforting me. I knew, somehow, deep inside he was feeling sad and bad too for leaving but he was excited and wanted to go to his new family. Feeling hand on my shoulder I knew it was Leonardo. He spoke with such gentleness. “This is painful and hard for all of us since we all love him dearly, Raphael. But this is his decision and he’s old enough to make them. We may never see him again, true, but we have give him good training and base for life.” I felt his gaze moving from me on L’s eyes. “I’m sure he will do just fine.” Feeling Leo’s eyes turning back on me, he continued once more. “So let go. He will be safe and sound with his family.” Sniffing loud I kept my face hidden even that I felt hands on my cheeks, wiping rolling tears away. “Is… Is your world safe to live in?” I didn’t dare to look but I heard Splinter’s voice behind the portal. “Oh yes, most safe. This planet has hold humans and mutants on herself for thousands of years, they all living in perfect harmony with each other and it has keep on going all the way to this day.” “Then, may I ask, how your Leonardo died?” Donatello needed to know. “Illness. Something what we didn’t had a cure back then but since then scientists from mankind and mutants have work together and they managed to create medicine to it. Sadly it came too late to save my son.” “I see.” Feeling once more all of their gazes on me I lifted my head just a bit to see L’s face right in front of mine. His eyes were moist, few tears had escaped on his cheeks but he was smiling. Pressing his forehead against mine I closed my eyes once more just holding him there, memorizing everything about his as good as I could. I would never want to forget him even that we had photos about him. Mikey came next to us and handed one photo to L who took it inside of his belt. Turning to look at me once more and making sure he had my attention, he moved his lips. “I will be okay.” I could read his lips loud and clear and I knew he would be okay but losing him for good… I stood up wiping my eyes keeping them locked with L’s as he too stood up. Reaching for my sai I pulled it out of my belt, flipped it around and handed it to confused L who took it. “My gift to you. Keep it with you, always. Never lose it or go anywhere without it. I hope it will help you to remember me.” Lifting sai in front of his face L pressed gently kiss on it, placing it on his own belt looking at me happily. I knew he would treasure my sai. Turning around he gave a hand sign to other turtles behind portal to wait and he ran to his own corner starting to dig stuff. “I have been wanting to ask, fellow turtles, why does he not talk?” We all stayed quiet as we allowed our father to reply. “He had an accident when he was a child and he lost his voice because of it.” It seemed Splinter didn’t think it was important for them to knew about L’s past. He could ‘tell’ about it to them himself if he so wanted. Hearing steps made our heads turn as L walked to us, his arms full of stuff. Stopping in front Mikey L gave him some drawings what they had done together and few arts what L had done about Mikey when he had been younger. Then he turned towards Leonardo handling him his own favorite book. Taking it with smile Leonardo bowed with L at the same time, thanking for the gift. Don got some of L’s toys and things what they had build together while Splinter got some poets what L had written after learning to write. When it was my turn he hesitated but reached to give me his most precious item – his diary. “N-no, L. I can’t take this. You should keep it yourself.” But he smiled while shaking his head. Pulling another diary out of his bag what he had on his back he wrote on one page. “I have a ‘copy’ of it.” and pointed current diary in his hands. In this moment it seemed like… if he had known he would leave us one day. Sighing deeply I pressed his diary hard against my chest, forcing a smile on my face. “I will treasure this. It will be my most beloved item.” “L, it’s time. Portal is showing signs it won’t stay open too long anymore.” Don’s words squeezed my throat so I pulled L in one last hug, kissed his head and whispered; “I love you. I always have loved you and always will, no matter how far apart we are. Never forget that. You are always my little treasure.” Feeling a kiss on my forehead made tears trying to escape my eyes once more but I held them back pulling away sniffing. L gave one fast last hugs to everyone turning to face the portal. Slowly he reached for it with his hand, then feet and then portal just sucked him in. It felt like eternity but took only a few seconds before he appeared on another side of the portal where his new brothers greeted him with laughs and welcome wished, instantly hugging him. It seemed like if he had belong there all along, went missing and was now reunited with his real family. Portal started to close as we all, and they too, wished farewells with promises to keep L safe. I suddenly took fast steps forward reaching for L. “Leonardo!” His eyes locked with mine and his eyes shined full of love as he placed his fingers on his lips and turned them towards me; “I love you.” “Le--!” And the portal shut down. I froze on my place as reality hit me, filling me with coldness. Little Leo… My little Leo was now forever gone. Feeling my body starting to shake I felt warm hand on my shoulder and I met blue gentle eyes. “I can see how hard this is for you, but we did the right choice. He was happy with us but I believe he’s even more happy there with them. He is their new Leonardo. He’s now giving them something and someone who they have been missing for 5 years. Their family is now whole, just like ours.” “Raphael, we all loved him deeply and will always love. Saying goodbyes is never easy but in the name of love we must learn to let go of those who we love the most in order to bring them happiness. We can’t own another person and make them live their life in a way how we want them to.” “I know, Master, I know. I just… feel like I lost a piece of myself.” “We all feel like that, dude. It’s normal, but hey – we still have each other like L now have too.” Pulling all of us in a group hug Mikey was right. I knew with time I would get over this, sooner or later, but I would get over this. Later in the same night I laid on L’s bed reading his diary having his teddy in my armpit. Seeing a figure approach me from the corner of my eye made me close the diary since it was only for my eyes. Leonardo stopped next to bed and sat down looking at me. “How are you doing?” “A bit better.” Small smile appeared on his lips as he sighed silently, slow and deep. “I’m revealed to hear that. Raphael… I just wanted to let you know that… I’m here for you. I’m always here for you. No matter what. You are my brother and I love you dearly. Never hesitate to come to me if you need anything.” Leonardo’s words hit me hard and I appreciated it what he said and I knew he meant it. Putting diary away I sighed and laid on my back still, staring at the ceiling before turning my head a bit, meeting waiting eyes. “Could you… stay with me tonight? I feel I can’t sleep alone.” “Of course.” Moving a bit I made some room for Leonardo to lay on his side in my armpit, holding him close. “Leonardo… Thank you.” Closing his eyes smile remained on my brother’s lips. “You’re welcome, Raphael. This is only one of my jobs as a big brother.” Hugging him tight I rubbed my cheek against the top of his head. “And you are doing a damn good job with it.” Chuckling Leonardo pressed more closer and soon yawned. He wished me good night and I returned his wishes, staying awake a while. I still worried and felt sad about L but at the same time I felt happy and warm for having another Leo, my own Leo, in my arms. I knew my Leo was capable of surviving anything and this brought faith on L surviving anything as well, no matter what. Eyelids of mine finally started to close and soon I was sleeping peacefully. – *5 years later in another dimensions* He stood all tall on top of the building watching sunrise as colors of the night faded away, bright red, orange and yellow sneaking more higher up on the sky behind horizon, sky slowly turning from dark to light and bright blue. Wind blew gently past him, playing with the tails of his blue bandanna. His blue eyes calmly scanned awaking city and nature as his brothers landed behind him. “Come now, Leo, or we will be late from breakfast and Splinter will eat everything on his own!” Raphael playfully slapped Leo’s arm with a playful smirk, challenging his brother into a race. Smiling and shaking his head Leonardo turned to take one more look at the beautiful colors on the sky, deep inhale filling his lungs with fresh morning air. His mind wondered back to his other turtle family, wondering what they were doing and wishing they were well. “Come on, Leo, hurry up!” Now his other brothers finally got his attention and smiling he rushed after them, jumping from roof to roof chasing them. There were times when he missed his old family but he loved his new family and life in this calm and beautiful world and city. Raphael’s sai swung on his belt with the movements of his body and it had stayed there with him, and always would, just like he had promised. The end