#All of Mikey’s dreams are freakin weird

[bringingourrealitys2life]

[text transcript: “Hey! My brothers and I aren’t in the competition, but we brought some (totally-not-enchanted) donuts, if you guys wanted any..?”]

The I Hate Fairytales boys weren’t made early enough to have been submitted, but Raph is here to hand out some snacks!

(Don’t worry about the donuts, they’ll just give you some weird freaking dreams ;p )

[@tmntausummit]

“So those are totally cursed.” Raph stated simply once their visitor had walked away. The three of them had politely refused- or in Raph’s case, stared him down until he gave up trying to hand him one- the offerings, but Mikey did not get the memo, hugging the donut to his chest protectively. “Oh, come on! They’re not even running! They’re just some nice dudes with some delish looking donuts! Look at this!”

Mikey brandished the donut as Leo slipped a jean jacket over Donnie’s shoulders. The five-year-old gave Mikey the same deadpan that Raph wore and decided, “When Mikey dies, I get his phone.”

“Still not old enough for phones.”

“Aw.”

Leo lowered his hands. “How’s this?”

Donnie adjusted the fabric uncomfortably. “Scratchy.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to feel.” Leo assured. “Come on, Dee. Don’t you wanna match Raph?”

Raph slipped a thumb into the pocket on his baggy pants, bright red singlet complimented by a large jean jacket and pair of shades in its pocket. He winked and shot a finger gun at his younger brother, clicking out the side of his mouth, before turning his attention to the brother dressed in a striped orange-and-white sweatshirt and jeans, orange sneakers plastered to the floor as he resisted the urge to feast on the likely high enchanted snack.

Donnie considered it. “No.”

“Do you want a shirt underneath?” Leo tried half-heartedly.

“Too many layers.” Donnie shrugged the jacket off and Leo sighed, “You’re not giving us much to work with here.”

“Layers feels weird. And that’s just two things.” Donnie argued with a pout. Leo raised an eye ridge. “No tight pants, no baggy pants, no shorts, no jeans, no jeans jackets, no long sleeve shirts, no polos, no skirts, no ties, no sweaters, no suits- you’ll do t-shirts, but nothing with pictures or memes you don’t understand, or bright colors unless it’s purple, and we have a basically one chance to wear shoes in our size, but all of those are weird or tight.”

“Cut the kid a break, Leo.” Raph chided as he held Mikey’s hand behind his back, earning a pained squawk. “He’s never worn clothes before. You know how he is with different stuff.”

“Routine is fine, but it’s a fashion show.” Leo stood up to the toss the jacket in the large no pile.

Raph released Mikey. “All I’m saying is, he has one of his fits and you can explain to everyone why he’s whining to the high heavens.”

“I don’t get that loud!” Donnie sputtered, his face bright red. “I just get stressed a bit.”

Raph was about to respond when he realized Mikey had swiped the donut back and was shoving it into his mouth. His eyes widened in horror, which was quickly replaced with murderous fury. “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU ATE THAT!”

With a scream muffled by donut, Mikey took off in a sprint. Raph was not long behind, screaming insults and for him to spit it out.

Leo sat on the floor, looking through their limited options. After a awkward moment of fiddling with his hands, Donnie sat down next to him, bowing his head guiltily. “Sorry I’m difficult.”

“Sorry enough to change your mind?”

Donnie’s face crinkled and Leo chuckled lightly, scooping an arm around his shoulders. “That’s alright. I’m sure we’ll find something you like.”

Donnie smiled and reached for a fedora. “I like hats.”

“And while I’m sure you can pull it off, you can’t exactly expect to beat the competition with just a fedora.”

Donnie adjusted the fedora over his head, throwing his head to the side and running to fingers over the brim. “Watch me.”

Leo laughed and knocked the fedora over his eyes, earning bubbling giggles from his younger brother. Pulling the fedora from his head and into his lap, he suddenly asked, “Hey, what are you gonna wear?”

“Me?” Leo teased in mock thought. “Oh, I dunno. Think there’s a space heroes cosplay around here?”

“I can find one!” Donnie scrambled upright and took off like a shot.

Leo hopped to his feet and considered calling him back, taking in the new excitement in his stance and shaking his head. With a fond smile, he trailed after him, absently hoping that their brothers would be able to find their way back.

#Raising A Tello AU #tmnt 2012 #All of Mikey’s dreams are freakin weird #He’ll be fine #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #tmnt fandom #tmnt donnie 2012 #tmntausummit 2.0 #tmnt leo 2012 #tmnt raph 2012 #tmnt mikey 2012 #tmnt au #tmnt 2k12

[bandficsunlimited]

Floral & Fading (Pierce The Veil Fanfiction)

(This was the first band slash PTV fanfic that I’ve ever made, so please forgive me if it’s terrible and nonsensical and not what you really expected.)

"D-d-d-darker now, kicked out and sleeping in your car, you rolled the window down, enough to dream and make-believe..."

"That's it, stop it! Pierce...whatever, you're outta here! Go on, we're closed! Everybody out! You're wrecking the place!"

The harsh reprimand of the bowling alley owner rang out, exasperated and palpably angry, and Jaime could perfectly and very much tell why.

Standing in the carnage of musical instruments and debris of bowling equipment alike, their band sign hanging off on one corner with half already in shards on the floor, holding splintered parts of what used to be a bass guitar, and staring at a rowdy crowd that had been shoving and pushing at each other the entire time, the owner's rage towards the sheepish band was easily understandable.

Jaime wasn't sure how Pierce the Veil was allotted to perform here in the first place, considering that their post-hardcore music wasn't really the appropriate ambiance to a bowling alley, and they were forced to wear such weird clothes (Mike laughed at his older brother's atrocious green floral shirt that he fished out of his dad's closet for ten minutes straight), and the owner didn't even know what the hell their band name was ("He announced it with the enthusiasm of a vendor selling tacos in a deserted place under the torpor heat of the summer Mexico sun", Jaime observed. "Oh great, now I want tacos", another voice inside his head complained), but all he knew for certain was that this was quite unexpected.

"For a bunch of people living in '69, these guys sure do party hard." Jaime thought, uttering a low whistle as he surveyed the wreckage of the chaotic room.

Not only had he and his bandmates completely trashed the place, they also managed to influence the people to join in with it as well, and what once was a group of peaceful weekend bowling players had turned into youth-crazy moshers that threw articles of intimate clothing, allowed crowdsurfing and mosh pits, nearly ripped the band members apart (two of them tore out their drummer's sleeves, "but," Jaime internally snickered, "with Mike's big guns, who freakin' wouldn't?"), poured juice punch on each other (Jaime could see a girl smiling at them wryly without a care of the sticky beverage that dripped and coloured her hair a vivid blue), pulled the fire alarms and lit up their lighters inside the place, and ultimately ("and most importantly", Jaime noted), they enjoyed and allowed themselves to lose control to their music.

"So all in all, not a bad gig." Jaime concluded with a satisfied grin. He looked over to Vic, Mike, and Tony, all exhausted, sweaty, and holding destroyed instruments alike, but also with the same enthused smiles lighted up on their faces.

Celebratory high fives were passed around the band members, but before Jaime could give one to an expectant Tony, the owner's stern face emerged in front of them, his nostrils flared and his voluminous belly rising up and down steadily, smoke appearing to come out of his ears, startling the band out of their gregarious reverie.

"You damn brats, still happy about wrecking this place. I regret ever knowin' your name. No you boys better get out of here before I get you a damn good whacking to and slam your sorry little asses in jail!" The owner threatened, waving at them the remaining microphone stand that was still actually standing and almost tripping on the wires in the process.

"Sooooo...does this mean we don't get paid?" Vic asked innocently, a cute charming smile emblazoned on his face, doe eyes wide and sparkly, every uttered word in the sentence dripping with sass. Behind him, Jaime chuckled audibly, Tony grinned so wide it seemed the corners of his lips would split open, and Mike covered his mouth with one heavily-tattooed hand to stifle his laughter.

The owner only glared at them poisonously, radiating nothing but sheer hate and venom out of his eyes, and shoved them all out of the way, causing a little domino effect to the band and nearly tripping on the wire yet again, as he muttered various colourful profanities, most likely endowing the worst curses known to man and monsters upon the Mexicans. He shook his meaty fist once more before going past the outbalanced band members, and grabbed a broom to commence cleaning up the mess that they made.

"Great gig. Great time. Great job, guys." Mike praised his fellow band members, as they packed up and salvaged what little they can from their smashed equipment, but not before he added a grim "We still need money to buy new instruments though, and since Vic here killed off any chance of us getting paid, well..."

"Thank you Mike, that reeeeaaally boosted our morale." Tony replied sardonically with a laugh.

Vic, pretending to be hurt, indignantly glared at his younger brother with a sulking pout. "We weren't getting paid anyways, Mikey. It didn't hurt to ask."

"Hey, hey, I'm just kidding bro. Hell, I don't blame you anyways. I've always wanted to wreck the living shit out of my drums! I mean, who doesn't? It's the adrenaline, man, it gets you. This was awesome, you guys. P-T-V!" Mike ranted on happily, as they all cheered out in enthusiastic replies of "Wooooh!"

"Well, I take it that's a wrap?" Vic quipped cheekily. He was answered with an affirming chorus of "Oh yeah", "Guess so", and from Jaime, accompanied with an audibly rumbling stomach, "Anyone else also craving tacos right now?"

Jaime's out-of-place remark and hunger pangs gave Vic an idea for a fun little prank. He acted all excited, suddenly pointed out to a random corner, and shouted "Hey look Jaime, a taco stand giving food away for free!"

"Where?!" As Jaime's head frantically whipped to face where Vic was pointing, Vic glanced furtively at Tony and made silent finger motions, signaling for him to trip up Jaime. Tony understood immediately, and he surreptitiously crouched behind Jaime and positioned himself by his feet, waiting for the right moment.

"Oh, you know, it's just there Hime, if you'd just, like, I don't know, back up a little, maybe you'd see clearer or something, y'know..." Mike improvised, buying for time, and Vic facepalmed behind Jaime's back and mouthed "That didn't make sense bro." to him.

But despite Mike's lame assurances, Jaime still obediently obliged with his instructions and ambled a step backward. His legs caught on the crouching turtle by his legs, and he began to topple backfirst, arms thrashing about wildly as he tried to break his fall.

"Gotcha again, Jaime!" Vic said triumphantly, earning him victorious high fives and rounds of raucous laughter from Mike and Tony.

But due to unforeseen and unfortunate circumstances, Jaime's head accidentally contacted a nearby bowling ball (ironically, it was the yellow one that he tossed at one of Mike's drums earlier and nearly hit Tony), and he heard a sickening crack, as Vic, Tony, and Mike's laughs instantly dissipated and they immediately rushed to his side.

Jaime felt himself losing consciousness quickly, and his vision blurred and faded as he saw his friends' concerned faces looming over him, Vic frantically waving a hand to his face and calling out his name.

"Jaime? Jaime??? Jaaaaiiimmeeeeee..."

~*~

Jaime jolted awake at the sound of singing invading his ears, and his eyes fluttered open and he found himself curled up in a couch, his bass guitar cuddled up next to him, a fan-gifted monkey pillow strewn on his stomach, and an abandoned floral pattern notebook lying facedown by his limply-hanging fingertips.

The rest of the band was simply chilling out; Mike lounging next to him as he clutched a coffee mug in one hand and twirled a drumstick in the other, Vic looking at his ink scribbles with a pensive visage and a badly-chewed pen stuck between his teeth, making little vocal warm-ups with their names (at the moment, he was singing out "Hayyyymeeyyyy skunnkkkk"), and Tony softly strumming notes at random on a battered acoustic guitar.

Jaime remembered his dream and his hand immediately shot up to his hair, as if to feel the phantom of a nightmarish afro that never was, and he sighed a little too loudly in relief as he felt only the soft spikes of his hedgehog hair. He rubbed his bleary eyes as he examined the appearances of his fellow bandmates' hairstyles with mingled scepticism and doubt.

Watching this event unfold, the trio's questioning stares immediately pierced (pun very much intended) through the scrutinising Jaime, but it was Vic who asked the question first.

"You okay there, Jaime?" he said, momentarily ceasing with his playful vocal warm-ups, his inquiry slightly garbled by the writing instrument clamped between his mouth.

"Dude, I just had the weirdest dream..." Jaime started.

Mike snorted into his mug at amusement at Jaime's revelation, spinning the drumstick more furiously and throwing it in the air. "Expect Jaime to be so cliche."

Tony glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and retorted "And expect you to be the one breaking the fourth wall." Mike stuck out his tongue at Tony in reply, and he failed to catch the drumstick, the wooden stick clattering noisily on the floor.

But Jaime seemed not to hear them both as he leered at Mike's short hair, hidden under his black beanie, analysed Tony's expertly messed sticky-uppy hair and Key Street cap lying by his side, and finally settled to concentrating and peering at Vic's long and flowing hair as if it was an art exhibit.

Vic finally noticed Jaime's strange stare and stared back with questioning eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that? Something wrong with my hair? Is my hat not on straight? Or do you just not like my hat? Again?" Vic badgered endlessly, his voice taking on a concerned tone, running his hand throughout his head to check for anything weird.

Jaime said nothing to clear things out as he slowly reached out to feel for Vic's hair. Mike took a sip of his drink absentmindedly and flipped his drumstick as he watched blankly, engrossed by the scene, and Tony had an exasperated expression that sighed out a silent "Oh, Jaime, here we go again."

Jaime grabbed one end of Vic's hair and started tugging at it, as if testing for it's legitimacy.

"Ow! Jaime! What the hell?" Vic exclaimed, slapping Jaime's hand away. By coincidence, Tony hit a sour note on the guitar as he was distracted by the unfolding events, making a sound that added for comedic effect.

"Your hair...it's normal." Jaime lamely replied.

Vic squinted in suspicion as he ran his fingers over his locks to fix his hair. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

Jaime closed his eyes and nodded in alleviated affirmation. "Oh it's good dude. It's good. It's just, well, just that dream..."

"Well, what dream? Don't keep us in suspense, Hime-time." Vic prompted eagerly, setting down his abused pen and rumpled notebook on the desk and dragging his chair closer to Jaime. Mike and Tony set down the instruments they were holding and leaned in closer to listen in as well.

Jaime sighed extravagantly once again and began to narrate. "It was like...we were having a concert in a frigging bowling alley...you had short hair and a stupid floral shirt...Mike was wearing this nerdy-ass sweater and vest, I don't know what it was...Tony was crowdsurfing on a bunch of weirdly-dressed people...and I had cotton ball for a hair...it was sick though, we smashed our instruments in the end, and oh, I nearly hit Tony with a bowling ball!"

Tony glared at Jaime in mock disdain. "Something you wanna say to me, Jaime?"

"And me! Did you just call my clothes nerdy?" Mike put in indignantly.

"You tripped me up and made me smash my skull on a bowling ball, Tony, so I'd say we're pretty much even. And also Mike, Vic was wearing a long-sleeved green floral pattern shirt and ironed beige pants and stupid hard shoes and he had short hair that looked like it was shaped out of clay, so there." Jaime explained in a flat tone to both offended parties, not missing a beat.

Tony simply made a 'seems legit' face and nodded. "Touche, Preciado."

Mike, on the other hand, stared at his older brother for a couple seconds, as if picturing Vic in the horrible clothes Jaime described, but his should-be bellowing laugh was reduced to a strained snort as Vic glared back at him venomously with a look that said "Don't you dare Michael."

Jaime carried on with his story gracelessly as he fumbled for the words, unable to describe the dream properly. "Anyways, it was just—I don't know, but it was like...a time travel or something...I don't know man...it was 1969!" He finally declared. Mike couldn't hold in his laughter anymore at the final part, and he began to double over laughing, strained wheeze escaping his throat like a squeaky balloon losing air.

"Aw dude, did you just marathon Back To The Future...again? Look, I know you wanna be the next Mexican Marty McFly, and we support that dream of yours, even if you don't look too good in bodywarmers, but...that's just askin' for it." Vic sympathetically apprehended with a little shake of his head. His maternal and disappointed tone of voice made Tony crack up, and Vic finally dropped his stern parent act and joined in with the mirth.

"But it was! I swear! 1969! A lady! Threw her bra at me!" Jaime punctuated almost pleadingly, his voice drowned out by the chaos of laughter.

His hysterical bandmates only laughed even harder at the bra throwing part, and Vic had to jump out of his seat and whack his younger brother in the back with immense force because he promptly choked on his drink, as the slapstick-looking act made Tony's smile grow impossibly wider.

"Yeah right, like that would ever happen. Keep on dreaming, Jaime." Vic deadpan quipped with a pokerfaced expression. Jaime finally stopped sulking and succumbed to the contagious hilarity and sheer ludicrousness of it all, dimples popping up as his laugh echoed the loudest inside the room.

After everyone had calmed down and managed to catch their breath, the place was filled with silent contentment and lingering traces of entertained expressions on their faces. Mike went to the kitchen to place his mug in the sink (but accidentally brought the drumstick with the mug instead of the spoon, which made for a very interesting story later on at band practice, when he accidentally ripped the skin off his snare drum with the metal utensil), Tony returned to fiddling with his guitar as he quietly played Dammit by Blink-182, and Vic held his pen and paper once again, but before he turned away to continue writing, he said softly to Jaime, this time with an earnest smile.

"Keep on dreaming, Jaime."

"Our lights knocked out, turned upside-down, I'm just a stupid motherfucker, can't figure it out."

#i'm so sorry for this #ptv #pierce the veil #fanfiction #band #bandom #vic fuentes #tony perry #jaime preciado #floral and fading #mv #one shot #short story #crack #trash