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gryfflepuffinthetardis · 5 months

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Sweet Jane Part One — Campbell Bain x Reader

Summary: Y/n was admitted to Saint Jude's hospital in Glasglow soon after her eighteenth birthday when she developed a case of psychogenic/traumatic mutism; there she meets a talkative, optimistic, idealistic, hyperactive nineteen-year-old boy with Manic depression who dreams of becoming a DJ, follow them through their story and learn what happened to Y/n.

Series Warnings: Past Toxic Relationship, Manipulative Ex, Mentions of Past Rape, Mental Health, Discrimination against the Mentally Ill/Neroudivergent, Traumatized Reader, Abusive Parents, Mentions of deceased family members, Stalking, Suicide, Reader doesn't handle men touching her well, Mentions of Sex, Bad Caretakers, Implied Non-Scottish Reader, Implied Short Reader, Campbell Bain's Dad is Terrible

Chapter Warnings: Reader refuses to speak; Loving Campbell Bain, Traumatized Reader, Selectively Mute Reader, PTSD Reader, Psychogenic Mute Reader, Traumatic Mute Reader, Manic Depressant Campbell Bain, Bipolar Campbell Bain, Schizophrenic Furgus, OCD Rosalie, Reader Developed Selective Mutism as a Coping Mechanism, Reader may have an intense type of anxiety caused by trauma, Reader is implied to not be Scottish or at least from Scotland (I am American but just add where you're from), Reader is implied to be shorter than the six-foot Campbell Bain

“You are a mystery to me, yet so familiar. Like a song I’ve never heard before, and a tune I’ve known my entire life.”

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Y/N hadn't spoken a word since she was eighteen and long before that something had changed. Her parents finally decided enough was enough and sent her to Saint Jude's hospital in Glasgow.

Campbell had literally crashed into the new girl during his excitement at hearing that the Saint Jude's radio station would be reopened.

The girl screamed as he collided with her and she started screaming and kicking due to his body weight on her.

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry." He said, hurriedly, getting off of her and holding a hand out to help her up but she just stared at him, terrified, "I'm sorry. Uh..." He realized he didn't recognize her, as far as he knew he was the youngest patient at Saint Jude's and this girl was around his age. This was exciting! "Are you new? I'm Campbell Bain, I'll be the bane of your life until one of us is discharged." He chortled at his own joke before he realized she was still of the floor, "Oh, let me help you up." He crouched down and took her hand, helped her up.

She stared at him with a confused look on her face but she didn't pull her hand away yet more out of shock than anything. Campbell offered her a smile before she ripped her hand out of his grip and ran off, leaving Campbell very confused.

He asked the nurses about the girl but none would give him proper answers, until he got to Stuart the orderlie, who should've been a patient instead but... you know, life.

"She's a looney." He said, blankly.

"Ai, yes. Yes. Yes. I know that much but what's her name? What's her deal?" Campbell prodded.

"Y/N." Was all he said.

A few days later, Eddie McKenna arrived to be the DJ for Saint Jude's, with assumption that he'd be able to tell the difference between the staff and the patients.

He had an interaction with Stuart and assumed he was a patient but found out that he was a nursing assistant. Well, that couldn't be good.

Then he met Campbell, who seemed perfectly friendly and nice before realizing he was a patient himself.

Campbell and Y/N were on better terms, now that she had stopped bolting on the other direction when he tried to talk to her. And they listened to Eddie's show as Y/N read Narnia.

Soon after the show, Eddie heard Campbell playing and singing, Summertime Blues on his guitar which was only slightly out of tune, which Eddie had played on his show. He saw Y/N correcting Campbell's finger placement on the guitar as he whined that it hurt his hand.

Campbell enthusiastically praised Eddie and explained on his poor timing and the patient’s dependence of television.

Y/N caught sight of something moving outside the window and she threw a guitar pick at Campbell, making him pout in her direction before seeing her pointing and they ran to window as he said, “Hang on, you’re not boring me or that, but I’ve just seen a friend of mine flying past the window.”

Y/N and Campbell leaned out the window to see the hospital’s Schizophrenic who despite the schtick his disorder stereotyped him as he was just the most gentle soul you’d ever meet, if a little eccentric, grappling down the side of the building.

“Fergus! What’re you doing!?” Campbell shouted after him as Eddie joined them, “you’re gonna hurt yourself!”

“Shall I get a nurse?” Eddie asked and Y/N shook her head.

“Fergus! You’re gonna miss your cocoa, you know!”

“I know.” Fergus told him.

“Can Y/N and I have it, then?” He asked.

“Help yourselves.” He told them.

“He’s escaping.” Eddie said, surprised how calm both of them were being so calm about this

“He’ll be knocking on the door in an hour or so. He always does.” Campbell reassured Eddie, “annoys the hell out of the staff but makes this one smile.” He nodded at Y/N as she sat on Campbell’s bed with his guitar, the look of fascination in Campbell's eyes was not lost on Eddie.

Campbell returned to his enthusiastic and impulsive idea-planning, the first being to bring up a story when a student nurse accidently gave everyone in the ward a laxative, making Eddie and Y/N look at him oddly and the only problem he saw with it was where he’d get that many laxatives.

“What about a request show?” He asked Eddie.

“I already thought of that. I haven’t enough records.” Eddie shot down that idea… well, he’s never disagreed with Campbell Bain before.

“So?”

“So? When folk request something, they usually like to be able to play it.”

“We just make them keep requesting until they hit something we actually have.” Campbell said, “‘if you can guess a record that we actually have in our library, then we will play it for you with a special dedication’.” He did a playful punch in the air, “who could resist?”

“It’ll never work.”

Y/N who had been playing with Campbell’s guitar, then played a jingly tune.

“You’re right, Y/N!” He declared, enthusiastically with an enthusiastic pointed finger at her and then he ran his hand through his light auburn-brown floppy hair, “We’ll need some jingles.” Y/N looked up when Campbell sang a jingle, “Hospital radio, Saint Juuuuude’s.” He smiled at Eddie, “that sort of thing.”

“You need singers to record jingles.”

Campbell picked up his guitar from Y/N and sat next to her, “and what exactly is sitting here before you?”

“A lunatic!” Eddie declared, making Y/N softly giggle.

“Aye, a singing lunatic!” Campbell agreed, enthusiastically. “We could record them in the station, aye?”

“Aye…” Eddie submitted.

“Brilliant!” Campbell exclaimed, going back to Eddie, “Now give me the key.” He held out his hand.

“What key?” Eddie asked.

“To the station.” Campbell said and ran to the door, looking out, “look, I’ve gotta start. Writing the jingles, rehearsing the singers, cataloging the albums.”

Eddie looked at Y/N as she looked back down and realized he hadn’t gotten her name, having been distracted Campbell’s… Campbell-ness and Fergus escaping. “Uh, ma’am… what’s your name again?” Eddie asked, making Y/N look up from a piece of paper she was now writing on, she gave him with a blank deadpan look at being called “ma’am”. She was only eighteen.

“That’s Y/N.” Campbell said.

“What’s your favorite album?” Nothing. She just looked at him, “can you sing?” She blinked twice and he turned back to Campbell, “what’s wrong with her?”

“Oh, she doesn’t speak. She hasn’t said a word since she got here.” Campbell said, “and there’s nothing wrong with her, she’s just looney like me!”

Eddie walked closer to him and asked as gently as he could, “Campbell, how exactly are you here?”

Campbell paused in which he faltered, knowing how his own father felt about his disorder before smiling, “Can you not guess? I’m manic.” Y/N looked up and smiled at him, making his eyes dart to her and a more genuine smile appeared on his lips before he reassured Eddie, “but don’t worry. The drugs I take make me completely stable. Except for headaches, of course.” He blinked in pain as he focused back on the painful headaches and he squeezed his eyes shut before blindly grabbing onto Eddie’s shirt who could sense a scene coming up as could Y/N who looked up to be amused by Campbell, “I get these headaches. I just comes over me and I cannae…” He flopped on his bed, next to Y/N and shouted out in pain, “ah, the bells! The bells!”

Y/N reached over and went to place her hand on Campbell’s back before stopping, hesitating to do so, not sure if they were close enough or if she wanted to admit that they were close enough and then suddenly Campbell’s mood shifted back to near manic and he shot himself up to look at Eddie, making Y/N pull her hand away, blinking briefly in surprise, “And I want my own show, by the way.”

“What?” Eddie asked.

“Well, after all this work, I think it’s only fair, don’t you?” He questioned.

“Campbell, I cannae just give you your own show.” Eddie protested, “you need training on the equipment.”

“So? Train me!” Campbell pleaded, eagerly. “I’ll take Friday nights.”

“Will that not clash with Brookside?” Eddie questioned.

Y/N looked at the window where they had gone to to shout after Fergus.

—

The next day, Campbell and Eddie were in the common room with Eddie standing shyly while Campbell did the opposite and shouted through a party megaphone while Y/N sat with Fergus, writing down something for him to read. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have an important announcement to make!” He spotted Fergus and Y/N and narrowed his eyes, “Fergus, stop flirting with Y/N.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and went to the couch rather bored now and put her headphones on.

Campbell and Eddie had announced the request show, while admitting that they had limited records. Eddie went to talk to Nana while Campbell stared at Y/N, feeling nervous to approach her since he worried she hated him with how scared she got when he interacted with her.

Then Fergus clapped him on the back, making him stumble and look at him, unamused before approaching the silent H/C-haired girl.

"Hey, Y/N," Campbell said, kindly, walking up to the silent girl but she didn't seem to hear him as she was listening to her Walkman. He tapped her shoulder, making her jump and stare at him with wide eyes just as she had when they first met. He gestured to her headphones, silently asking if he could take them off and she slowly nodded and he gently slid them off and could vaguely hear Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover by Sophie B. Hawkins.

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"Hey, we're doing a request show. You have any requests?"

She looked at him for a good while before getting up and leaving. Campbell frowned and his spirits were diminished before leaning forward and face planting his face into the couch cushion, groaning.

—

Campbell showed Eddie the radio station now cleaned and useable thanks to him, Y/N, and Rosalie and as he left Eddie questioned Campbell about Nana and Campbell answered in his own hyperactive way before Eddie questioned him about his obvious crush on Y/N.

“The silent girl, uh… M/Y/N.” (Mispronunciation of Your Name)

“Y/N.” Campbell corrected, automatically in a slightly defensive tone.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Campbell’s cheeks burned as they reddened and his heartrate quickened, “No. No. No. She’s new actually. Been here about a week. She… she’s a mystery.” He gave out a dreamy smile, “One I’d like to solve but…” He shrugged like, what can you do? —

Campbell was snoring when he was awoken by a friendly smack in the head. He woke up, groaning with confusion before turning on his light, illuminating Y/N who smile sweetly at him as she held something behind her back.

"Jesus, Y/N." He groaned, "what you do that for?" She just looked at him and he nodded, remembering who je was talking to, "right. Uh, what is it?"

Y/N brought a custom record sleeve out from behind her back and he slowly began to realize what she was trying tell him.

"Oh, you want me to play one of these songs during the show tomorrow, er… today?" He asked.

She nodded and sat on the edge of his bed, making him kick around spazzily and awkwardly before sitting up, trying to make room for her as his heart pounded and he looked down at her, feeling her body heat up against his but forced himself not to think about that as it was a bit of a creepy thought to have at two in the morning as she showed him the songs on the back of the vinyl which was also handmade, she pointed at the first song: a cover of The Velvet Underground's Sweet Jane by Cowboy Junkies.

"Is that your favorite song?" He asked and she nodded. "Wait, these are all from different bands, how'd you get this?"

She pointed to herself, "you made it?" He gathered, "Who made the record?" She pointed to herself again and he just smiled at her impressed and enamored by her. "You are one mystery, Y/N L/N. You may be my favorite mystery.”

She smiled, telling him that she liked the idea of being a mystery to him and kissed his cheek, near the corner of his lip, nearly making him melt with a loud dreamy sigh before running off. He looked after he with a starstruck look of awe on his face before flopping back on his pillow, groaning.

—

The next day, Y/N shared a smile with Fergus before listening in on the radio to the show, standing and watching Campbell through the window.

“Good evening! This is Ready Eddie.” Eddie introduced, “and on my left is my right-hand man…”

“Campbell Bain.” Campbell introduced, not seeing Y/N watching him and the smile on her lips.

“And you’re listening to the first ever Ready Eddie Radio Request Road Show.” He gave Campbell a thumbs up and the nineteen-year-old pushed a button, making a jingle play.

“Ready Eddie’s road show. Ready, Eddie, go.”

“That’s right. This is the premiere. This is the first. And you can tell everyone that you were there. You heard it! You saw it!” Campbell said, enthusiastically before joking, “And they’ll tell you, it’s all part of your illness.”

Y/N giggled at his antics before realizing this and she zipped her leather jacket up over her shirt with the sarcastic quote on it.

“We’re playing requests from Ward Eleven this evening. This one is for Francine. I hope you’re listening, Francine.”

Campbell then teased, “I hope anyone’s listening.” He then saw Y/N watching him and let out an audible smile that melted his insides.

“Is anybody listening?” Eddie asked, “Is anybody out there?”

Then Help! By the Beatles started to play and soon the patients came out and Campbell ran out of the station to dance with some patients before more came out, including Fergus. He gave Y/N a smile and thumbs up as he flashed the part of the television he had removed.

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Campbell ran back to Eddie and pulled his earphone off so he could talk to him, “the television’s broken, Eddie! There is a God!”

Eddie nodded in the direction of Y/N and Campbell’s face lit up and he ran to Y/N and taking her hands, trying to ease her into dancing. She shook her head before starting to shuffle awkwardly to the music before Campbell took her hands and pulled her against him so she danced with him to the beat of the music. She then giggled up against him and he smiled, triumphally.

He was about to comment on how beautiful her laugh when there was a BANG! And the music stopped, making them all exclaim in disappointment before Campbell and Y/N ran back to the station to see what was wrong.

“What’s wrong?”

“The mixing desk.” Eddie said, trying to fix it with his limited knowledge.

“Do something!” Campbell exclaimed.

“What can I do? I can’t even turn on the bathroom light without shocking myself.” Eddie remarked.

“Well, check the plug. Maybe it’s the fuse.” Campbell suggested as Y/N looked up at Fergus and gestured for him to come.

“It’s not the fuse.” Eddie sighed.

Campbell ran his hand through his floppy hair, “I cannae believe this. I’ve just had the world’s shortest career as a disk jockey.”

Fergus took out a screwdriver and headed inside to help and started to unscrew the screws of the mixing desk.

“Fergus, what are you doing?” Campbell asked.

“I’ll just have a look.” Fergus reassure him.

“No, don’t!” Eddie shouted, “don’t have a look there.”

Y/N helped Fergus lift the plate of the mixing desk as Eddie continued to try and stop Fergus and Y/N, “Fergus, Y/N, I’m asking you. Please, leave it alone”

“He’s gonna blow it up.” A patient said.

“He’s not!” Campbell protested.

“I think I know what the problem is.” Fergus told Eddie.

“He’s blowing it up.” Another patient said and the others started to chant Fergus’ name.

“Fergus, don’t, okay!? Just leave it alone. It’s all we’ve got.” Eddie pleaded and Y/N smacked Eddie’s shoulder when Stuart literally pushed her out of the way, making her squeak and stumble before Campbell caught her and glared at Stuart.

“Oi, watch where you’re going!” He shouted.

Stuart aggressively grabbed Fergus holding him in a near chokehold and Y/N tried to go forth to help but Campbell held her back, knowing she��d just be pushed away again, if not sedated.

“He’s not causing trouble, is he?” He asked Eddie and Y/N shook her head, frantically at Eddie.

“No, he’s just helping me, get the mixing desk going again.” Eddie muttered.

“Him? He couldn’t get his brain going again.” Stuart spat and Y/N scoffed, implying that she felt that better described Stuart than Fergus.

“Leave it, Stuart.” Isabella, the more kind nurse said, “it’s all over.”

Stuart let Fergus go and sulked out of the room, clearly upset that he didn’t get to hurt someone as Y/N gave him the middle finger.

Fergus closed the plate of the mixing desk and Y/N flipped the switch, making the light come back on.

“You two are geniuses.” Campbell gasped.

Y/N shook her head and pointed at Fergus like, no, he’s the genius.

“YOU’RE GENIUSES!” Campbell shouted and he slammed the door shut and got back to the microphone, “Sorry about the technical problems, folks. We’re now back on the air and we hope to keep it that way. Our next request is for Y/N and dedicated to her by me.” He chortled as he looked at her and clicked his tongue as he winked.

The cover of Sweet Jane played, making Y/N smile as Eddie looked at Fergus, giving him an apologetic and thankful smile as Fergus perpetually scowled before his lips curved into a gentle smile.

Later, Y/N helped Campbell clean up the hallways before they bumped into each other.

“Uh… so how did you know how to help Fergus?” He asked.

She took out her wad of paper and wrote: Learned. Taught.

He nodded, taking what he could get, “I always knew you were smart.” He said, honestly and he hesitated before leaning towards her to kiss her cheek like she had done the night, she shifted, conflicted as she could see the pure gentless in Campbell's personality, in his actions, in his eyes, and she could feel it in his cheek kiss. He had hesitated, not wanting to overstep boundaries and he was still nervous about his decision but before she could react Eddie ran out of the room, making them break apart and move out of the way before he rammed into them.

*This is a series from my Wattpad, so I'm moving in to Tumblr and Archive of my Own. There is an entire subplot later on of stalking and the cause of the reader's muteness or mutism (which ever is the correct term). Am I the only one who feels like Campbell Bain might also have ADHD or is it just because of his Bipolar/Manic Depression. I'm usually good at this but I'm having a hard time differentiating the two or maybe it's just David Tennant.

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mswyrr · 7 months

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forgiving and needing to be forgiven

Moiraine threatened Lan with a serious violation: she threatened to have Alanna force a bond on him. Lan could have chosen to walk away after that. Instead, he chose to consider this--and the rest of her shitty behavior--in context of Ishamael's assault on her and her own subsequent serious illness. He chose to forgive her - and we see, in the beach scene, that Moiraine makes it clear she doesn't expect his forgiveness.

When they come back together, choosing to open their hearts to each other once more--and emphasis is on Lan's wince as his heart reopens to her; it is his freely made choice, but it has a cost, there are scars left by what they've both been through and how Moiraine has treated him--the magic circles them and it is beautiful. Freely choosing to understand someone you love is hurting and commit to forgiving their mistakes and wrongs is a powerful thing; it is what makes long-term relationships possible. It is a kind of common magic - how people can grow, change, fuck up, and choose each other again and again. It is beautiful.

Loving someone, sharing a life together, and knowing them so well for decades--whether platonically or romantically--is one of the most beautiful things an adult human can choose to do. It is hard work; it is pure joy; it is the cultivation of grace for another and their failings and wrongs and the humility to recognize your own failings and admit your wrongs.

It's understanding and being understood, even the parts of you that aren't pretty, even the parts of them that aren't pretty. It's caring for someone when they're sick--not only temporarily, but even in chronic ways that wear upon you, that motivate the person to be hurtful toward you, like Moiraine was sick in s2--it's experiencing the vulnerability of receiving that kind of care even when you're difficult and unsightly. And every day it is a choice.

Moiraine can choose to forgive Siuan in the same way that Lan chose to forgive her. The same ethics and emotional truths apply and the reasons for Moiraine to choose to do so go back even further, are rooted even deeper, than Lan and her and their platonic love.

Lan forgives Moiraine at this point in the story because their relationship is very important, but it isn't Moraine's big true love romance - Siuan is. Their narrative arc is just gonna be more fireworks and grand imo. Siuan wrongs her at this point in the narrative (and Moraine wronged Siuan by deceiving her for six months!) because their resolution is being reserved for later. It's probably going to come along with another, even higher stakes resolution in the larger conflict, and it is going to be gorgeous.

Rosamund Pike didn't write Sophie Okonedo a passionate personal letter asking Sophie to play her wife--and Sophie didn't agree to that!-- just so it could end this way. That doesn't make "behind the scenes" sense or narrative arc sense.

#moiraine x siuan #siuanraine #wot spoilers #wheel of time spoilers #the wheel of time #wheel of time #wot meta #my meta #moiraine sedai #lan mandragoran #siuan sanche

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prettyinaccurate · 6 months

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Do you have more lore of graham and arthur besides them fucking one time as well as their established jobs?,i love them so much and i want more of them.

I do! Their backstories are pretty flushed out by now, so ill put em below if youre interested!!

Graham:

Graham was born in London to a middle class family in the very late 19th century. His mother died giving birth to him, and he had no siblings, but his relationship with his father was good. His father did the best he could raising him, but had to work a lot to support their family, and often left Graham to his own devices. This didn't bother Graham at all, since it gave him the freedom to do as he pleased.

Graham's father owned a salvage shop (which is basically a Victorian thrift store), and they lived in the apartment above it. The money was nothing impressive, but it was enough to get by. However, since Graham’s father rarely left and Graham had no interest in making friends, the store was basically where he was raised. Surrounded by such a wide variety of oddities donated or pawned, he would occasionally come across old books and instruments relating to the sciences. He poured his life into these outdated textbooks and studying these strange instruments; quickly developed a deeper understanding of them than most scientists would dare to dream. Particularly, he was most fascinated by herbology, chemistry, alchemy, and anatomy.

When Graham was a teenager, his father died of scarlet fever. Graham had never been significantly impacted by emotion, and, while knowing he would miss his father, was not partially saddened. (Still this would impact his interest in creating cures.) In his will, his father left him a decent sum of money, the shop, and the apartment above it. Uninterested in continuing the business, Graham sold just about everything inside the shop at a heavily discounted price, keeping only that which related to his studies. Using this money and that his father left, Graham decided to put himself through college. This did not work out. He learned in his first year that the college taught from the same textbooks he had already memorized, and he understood the contents on a deeper level than even his professors. After three semesters, he dropped out and returned home.

Now equipped with money he had not needed for college and more confidence than ever, Graham used what was left of his inheritance to purchase that which he needed for starting his own experiments. He found a lot of success in creating elixirs of a wide variety; started with simple things like cough remedies, fever reducers, and soothing balms. He continued like this for about a year before delving into more ambitious elixirs. His success continued, though was briefly interrupted by an incident involving lye which left him blind in his right eye. He recovered speedily with one of his own cures, but did not regain sight. Soon after being blinded, Graham decided to take his work more seriously. He reopened his father’s shop under the name “Hurst Curatives” and began to sell his work. He saw rapid and wild success, as word quickly spread of his almost “magical” cures. All it took was a single request at an exuberant price from a nobleman to Graham for him to realize commissions could be very lucrative. Again, he never much understood moral codes, so he saw no issue when these commissions eventually took on a dubious nature. In a matter of five or so years, he established himself as a disliked but distinctly respected member of the community, knowing a lot of bad things about very important people. He is untouchable! He is rich! Life is pretty damn good.

Arthur:

Arthur was born to an immigrant family in the late 19th century. His path is more traditional, but certainly a success. His parents came to America from Scotland, settling in a large city on the east coast. His mother was pregnant when they arrived, and he was born not one month later. His family did not have much money, and lived in a shared home with ten or so other families. Since this made for a crowded and chaotic environment, Arthur spent a lot of time at the library, or reading on the outside stoop.

Arthur was not immediately captured by the sciences. Instead, he was entranced by fairy tales, especially the stories of brave heroes sacrificing everything for the good of another. Deeply empathetic, he was inspired by these tales of heroism and would carry them with him to adulthood.

Arthur did not have any formal schooling in his formative years, but learned to read and write early on from an older Scottish man who shared their building. It was enough that he was able to attend secondary school, where he excelled. During this period, he decided to become a physician, hoping to help people much like the heroes in his childhood stories. His teachers were impressed by his drive, compassion, and grades; enough so that he was put up for an academic scholarship, which he was awarded.

In college, and through to his doctorate, Arthur’s life did not see much excitement or change. He threw himself into his studies with a great passion, passing on a social life in favor of reaching his goal. He began a paid internship, at which point he began sending money home to his parents so they could live more comfortably.

His mentor, an Englishman originally from the outskirts of London, was delighted by Arthur’s progress and care. So delighted, in fact, that his mentor offered Arthur a position as lead physician not one year after receiving his doctorate, explaining that a dear friend of his was retiring, and had asked for a promising doctor to take over his position. Arthur accepted this offer excitedly, and was shipped off to London just as soon as he was granted permission to practice there. It’s not very long after his arrival, however, that he notices many of the cases in London are… odd. What, or who, is the cause?

#pi speaks #i love them soooooo much #ocs #graham f. hurst #arthur cailbhin

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months

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am i the asshole for becoming this girls only friend then not responding to her for 3 years?

I (16) started out at a new highschool and the teachers asked me (or more they told me, bc how am i supposed to say no) to be friends with this girl because she had no friends. basically they asked me to spend my breaks with her and sit with her in class.

me and her had nothing in common. it was always really awkward talking to her. every lunch id try to make conversation but itd always die out into an awkward silence until i was like "okay. im just going to read my book now."

i hung out w her a few times outside of school and it was always unbelievably uncomfortable. should mention this kid had a terminal illness. i started worrying about the fact that i was her only friend and that i didnt even like hanging out with her and that i had to try harder to be her friend bc what if she dies young die to her illness and no one goes to her funeral. in all honesty i wanted to just be casual friendly acquaintances with her, but due to the fact that i was told to be her friend, that she had no other friends, and that she had a terminal illness, i forced myself to be more than that for her when i didnt even enjoy being around her and even found her rly rude (she would lash out at other people for very small things like mishearing something she said, which made me very scared to ever aggitate her)

I was struggling mentally and i dropped out without saying anything to anyone (all unrelated to her) we followed each other on instagram, but when i started transitioning i made a new ig not connected to my deadname or old transphobic highschool friends in any way. i never contacted any of my friends from highschool after i dropped out. It wasnt personal, it was a fresh start.

about three years later i logged back into my old ig accidentally and saw i had like 80 dms from her. the dms went between "miss you. school isnt the same without you!" to calling me a bitch and insulting me. some messages were rly long others were just her spamming guilt trippy "im sorry i made you hate me... its my fault you left....." over and over. she was way more emotionally attached to me than i realised. and i felt like absolute shit. had absolutely no idea what to say. so i didnt say shit.

i just logged back out without replying.

am i the asshole? should i have responded, try to go through the same forced friendship again? or would it reopen old wounds to respond now?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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plothooksinc · 4 months

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If you’re still taking prompts for the No Rest For The Weary adjacent fic, can we see the guys’ first trip back to Hueso’s pizzaria? With or without April and Mayhem tagging along?

Also, I just found the series and binged it in like 2 days

I'm glad you enjoyed it, anon! Because I can't shut up, you get the weeks preceding it too-- (Note: if the formatting is wonky I apologise but my first attempt to post it took every single space out, hngngngn) Niño idiota: >> aww dont sweat it bm ill be back to dazzle your customers soon!!

The message came in at lunchtime, and he didn’t see it until the rush had been and gone. Hueso scowled down at it as if Leonardo had personally insulted him and tossed it into the corner of the kitchen. Their first day re-opened was chaotic, with many customers seeking a sense of normalcy or not having access to their usual haunts—he’d like to say he was thinking of them by reopening so quickly, but in all honesty, Hueso was a businessman (and previously a pirate to boot) and knew the best way to recoup his loss from the enforced closure was to take advantage of the mess. That it was also an excellent way to take stock of who had come through the invasion unscathed had nothing to do with it, of course.

He didn’t get back to his phone until late in the evening, having fielded a number of annoying encounters along with customers over-ordering pizza like the invasion was just taking a brief intermission—and dealing with Hop, who timidly called him to make sure the ‘crazy lady with the knife’ was nowhere in evidence before he dared to front for his shift—and by then he was exhausted. But Leonardo had messaged him again—with a nonsense string of kissy faces and hearts followed by a row of question marks, and he sighed. A five year old’s need for validation, honestly.

Hueso: >> 💀💀💀✨✨

The boy seemed like his normal self. He told himself it was less of a relief and more of an annoying reminder that his break from seeing one of his most destructive customers-slash-temporary-waiters was destined to be a short one. He should take advantage of it while he could.

He didn’t hear from Leonardo again.

Days later, he attempted a call and found the phone was out of service.

He was not worried. One of the boys would surely come by for pizza now that he was open and he could make polite inquiries. Asking after a customer’s health was permissible.

(Michelangelo had said he was recovering. The phone was purely a coincidence. Leonardo had merely forgotten to pay his bill like the irresponsible boy he was, or he had been using it before being cleared by doctor’s orders and the phone had been confiscated with great prejudice by his brothers. That was all.)

---------

He did not see a single turtle in his restaurant.

He did, however, hear from someone else; a phone call that took him by surprise, coming in on the main delivery line and asking to speak to the manager. He came to the phone already annoyed, anticipating some complaint of my pizza is cold, or your special mystic sauce is flirting with my roommate! (It wouldn’t be the first time. Sometimes his ingredients were very fresh.)

“This is Senor Hueso and I am busy,” he said curtly. “Your complaint had best be of a suitably drastic nature.”

There was silence for a moment, and then a woman’s rueful voice. “Ah. Welp. You weren’t a hallucination after all, huh?”

It took him a moment to place her, and then Hueso blinked and retreated into his office, closing the door behind him. “Mrs O’Neil?”

“Just Carol’s fine,” she said. “You, uh… I’m just trying to ground myself? A little? Things have been weird.”

“And so you decided to call the skeletal owner of a mystic pizzeria to feel normal again,” he said drily. “I see. It makes perfect sense.”

“You’d be surprised. Listen, I have two reasons to call—I know you’re busy so I won’t keep you tied up.”

He found he didn’t mind, actually. It was rare that a human willingly associated with the yokai, though it spoke volumes that the two humans he’d found that would do so were related to each other. “Go ahead.”

“First was just to, uh, touch base? And make sure you got my message, and—I meant it. You helped out a lot.”

“You are welcome, Senora.” He nearly added any time, but frowned and thought better of it. Hueso did not wish to encourage anyone to rely on him. That was foolish. “And the second?”

There was a brief pause. When she spoke again, she sounded almost sheepish. “...yeah. Uh… it’s another stupid question, probably.”

“Of course.” He braced himself for another inane question about skeletons.

“Yeah. Does your, uh… pizzeria… even though we’re human, um—”

He blinked.

And then, almost against his will, he smiled.

“Senora, that is a stupid question. Kindly remember all the times my employees have delivered to your daughter.”

“Oh, thank god. Or...whatever you guys believe in—”

“Quit while you are ahead, perhaps.” But now he was outright amused, leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah, noted. Okay. So some more spicy chicken…? Two, I think. We’re at a hotel right now, will that be a problem?”

“Not at all. I will pass the order on to the staff.” He hesitated. “At a hotel? Your apartment is a lost cause?”

“For now. April’s, uh, friends? Are paying for us to stay here, and I guess they’ll give us the all clear. Hopefully soon.”

Ah. Sometimes it did, in fact, pay to ask sociable questions. He leaned forward, voice rising eagerly. “You have met her friends? The—” Turtle boys. He stopped himself from saying it, because in all likelihood she had not met them and, annoying though they may be, that was a secret he would keep.

“No.” She paused, and then added shrewdly, “But April is staying with them, and I’m sure she’d have said something if they weren’t doing okay.”

He wasn’t sure April would have said anything at all, actually, given how tight-lipped she’d been on the topic of both mutants and yokai. But knowing that she was staying with the boys did give him some level of reassurance that they hadn’t just vanished from the face of the earth.

“Gracias,” he said anyway, and reached for his notepad. “I had lost contact with them, so was… curious. Tell me your hotel and room number and I will get your order ready.”

---------

His delivery girl came back with a hotel business card in one hand, Carol’s mobile number scrawled on the back, and a brief message:

Just in case. I’ll ask April about them in the meantime xx Carol

Well. That certainly was an offer. A perceptive woman, indeed.

He tucked the card into his business card book, face down so the message was hidden.

---------

Perhaps Leonardo was avoiding him.

The idea filled him with annoyance. He also knew it was extremely unlikely, but he far preferred this irritating potential reason over anything more serious. Hueso let himself believe this for a day and a half before he had to acknowledge that, foolish though the boy might be, he would not avoid the pizzeria just because Hueso had made a comment about an extra shift to pay for damages. He would own up to it, if only to make childish comments about how much Hueso could rely on him and filch extra slices of garlic bread when he thought nobody was looking. And potentially cause even more damage, because that seemed to be par for the course these days.

The thought made him smile faintly-- until he realised he was very close to daydreaming about Leonardo accidentally trashing his pizzeria, and he nearly snapped poor Hop’s head off when he fumbled a serving a few moments later. What a ridiculous thought. (And he was annoyed at himself, not the staff, so he made sure to let Hop leave a few minutes early as an apology.)

Perhaps Leonardo had attempted to open a portal while concussed and had accidentally stranded himself in some remote farmstead. That seemed as likely as avoiding him. Or he had been portal jacked by pirates, and any moment now Piel would open the door to his restaurant and drag the turtle in like some waterlogged kitten, draped in seaweed and clinging to his ridiculous sword and wearing both those ridiculous eyepatches again, good grief what had the boy even been thinking (clearly he hadn’t been) and Leonardo would beam at him and launch into a tale of all the mermaids he’d met and flirted with until Piel dropped him mid-spiel and stormed out again.

Perhaps he had quite deliberately portalled his family to Tahiti this time to recover in luxury.

...doubtful.

Perhaps…

Perhaps he was thinking about this too much.

Hueso put it aside and went to serve the family of googlyschmootzes that had just arrived and didn’t think about it again.

For a good twenty minutes.

---------

He broke.

Hueso: >>Buenas noches, Carol. Could I ask if you have any word? >>This is Senor Hueso.

Senora O’Neil: >>Evening! I will see what I can do. I’m sure they’re fine.

--------

They were not fine.

Carol did not text him. But the following evening, his waitress Gloriana knocked on his office door to tell him that one of the turtle boys had arrived and was asking for him, and he barely let her finish before Hueso was moving past her and through the kitchen at a speed a little too risky for an area full of sharp implements.

April was at his front counter, peering listlessly at one of the menus, and he took a moment to observe just how tired she looked before he took in the hunched bulk that was Raphael slouching next to her, and he froze. He already knew April had been injured—had seen her arrive with her face a mess, knew about the attack—but it was the sight of the large snapper that made him feel the first unfamiliar touch of… anger.

Fear.

Raphael’s arms were thoroughly bandaged, swathed above his plastron and neck, and his eye was covered in a patch that made him think nonsensically for a moment, ah, so it was pirates after all. But it was the large chunk missing from the curve of his shell that horrified him, the sight of a near miss that was far above and beyond their usual shenanigans.

They are children, he thought. This is too much for children.

If Raphael was the only one to visit him, how badly off were the others?

He did not ask. Instead, Hueso regarded them with a face he hoped was impassive, and tugged the brim of his hat down slightly.

“I see life has not been kind to you lately,” he said. “I hope you do not think this entitles you to a discount.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” April said politely, but the knowing smirk that curved onto her exhausted face warned him ahead of time. “Especially as we’re not here for pizza.”

...ah. Carol had ratted him out. Very rude, considering he had not once mentioned he was concerned. He flicked his gaze to Raph, who gave him a wan smile of his own, blinking slowly with his one good eye as if he were considering going to sleep right there at the counter.

Hueso sighed. It wasn’t the end of the world.

“I suppose you had better come through to my office.”

---------

April’s nose was newly bandaged and her bruises were that particular array of colours that always arrived in the process of healing. That was something, at least, though Hueso couldn’t help but note the smaller bandage patch behind one ear. She had been hurt more since he last saw her. Perhaps they all had. It made him fret over Leonardo’s last message and out of service phone all over again.

“My doctor insisted on checking it out, but it’s all healing well,” she said, taking the mug of coffee from him. She was sitting on one edge of the worn couch he kept in his office, slouching against its side with a carelessness that made him wonder how long it had been since she’d slept well. Raphael was taking up the rest of it, sitting there with his hands clasped on his knees and clearly trying not to fidget.

“I did not ask,” Hueso said levelly, and held out another mug to the turtle. He didn’t seem to notice.

“No, but I ain’t blind,” April retorted. “Mikey’s right, you are a big softie.”

He sighed. “A terrible slur upon my reputation.”

“Sure it is.” She grinned over the rim of her mug, and elbowed Raph in the side, who started and then finally noticed Hueso’s outstretched hand. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us. Right, Raph?”

“Right,” Raph said automatically, taking the mug. Then he blinked. “Wait, what?”

Dios mio. Hueso raised an eyebrow. “Raphael. How long has it been since you slept?”

“Uhhh…”

The fact that he trailed off and frowned spoke volumes, and Hueso sighed again. Well, he hadn’t been fooling them anyway. Or, at the very least, he hadn’t fooled April. He turned on his heel and went to the cupboard. “I assume your mother asked you to stop by.”

“You assume right,” she said, relaxing back with her coffee. “Guess I’m doing a proof of life tour today. I checked in with her, she asked me to follow up.”

“I see. I feel you should have left this one home to sleep.”

Raph frowned at that. “Yeah, well, this one thought April could do with company. It’s been a, uh, week.”

That gave him pause. “Does this ‘a, uh, week’ begin before or after the zombie attack at the O’Neil apartment?”

“Man, don’t ask him to count days at this point,” April said wryly as Raph took on a more confused expression. “Just assume things have been chaotic as hell since the day the sky opened up and rained bubblegum on us.”

“Such a misleading way to describe an alien invasion.” Hueso snorted, hiding his worry. Not that it seemed to matter with this company. “That almost sounds cute.”

“Never had bubblegum in your hair, huh.”

Hueso served her with A Look. “In my clearly bountiful hair? No.”

Then he threw a blanket from the cupboard across, hitting Raph in the face, and pointed. “You, nap. You.” To April. “Tell me what has happened, and why Leonardo’s phone is out of service.”

Raph blinked as the blanket slid off his face and landed in his lap. “Wait, it is?” And he started to fumble for his phone, until April put a hand gingerly on his shoulder. “April?”

“Yeah, uh, it’s okay,” she said, eyes wide. “We didn’t know it was out of service, but it makes sense. I remember the last place he had it. I think Leo needs a new phone.”

That was at least vaguely reassuring that Leonardo was alive and in need of technology somewhere, but April’s dancing around the point only served to irritate him. “You are both very tired, it seems, if you did not realise before now.”

“Yeah well, you try dealing with two invasions in the space of a week,” April shot back. “Leo’s phone getting eaten is kind of less important than, you know, Leo himself. And Mikey. And everyone losing their freaking homes and—”

And Raphael put out one of his giant hands to settle her back on the couch before she could get to her feet, grimacing faintly at Hueso, and he put up his skeletal hands in a gesture of apology.

“I did not mean to imply any stupidity,” he said faintly, reeling a little at the sheer amount he needed to unpack in that small rant. “I am merely… concerned at how exhausted you are.” There, now he was being honest. What was the world coming to? He didn’t know where to start, so he started with the most bizarre. “His phone was eaten?”

“It wasn’t me,” Raphael muttered, and April broke into a laugh before she could help herself, slapping a hand over her mouth.

Hueso texted a message out to his kitchen staff and took a seat, feeling far more brittle than he had a few minutes ago. Teenagers. Very tired teenagers. The laugh had sounded less amused and more borderline hysterical, so when he spoke again, he was as gentle as he could be.

“Perhaps you ought to start from the beginning.”

---------

Gloriana knocked on the door ten minutes later with a platter of cheesy bread sticks and spicy meatballs. By then, April had finished telling him about the attack on the lair, Agent Bishop’s involvement and mistakes, and Leonardo and Michelangelo’s rescue. The mention of Bishop would have set his hair on end if he had any; he was familiar with the man, given his restaurant straddled the line between the Hidden City and New York, and there had been harassment before certain rules were put in place and Bishop promptly lost interest.

Raphael had fallen asleep during April’s spiel, and she had tucked the blanket over him without so much as a pause and carried right on, and the practised move was doing something unfortunate to Hueso’s emotions. Or perhaps that was just the realisation of just how terribly things had gone after Leonardo’s last message to him; how close the family had come to tragedy.

They were children.

(Also, Leonardo’s phone being eaten by a possessed train was nowhere on his spiralling bingo card--)

He took the platter with a nod of thanks and closed the door, sliding it onto the coffee table in front of them. April needed no encouraging and snagged two breadsticks with the flash of a grateful smile. He sat and politely let her wolf them down before he spoke again.

“They are all right now?”

“Mikey just overextended himself and is sleeping it off,” she said, and he wondered how much of an understatement that was. He did not pry. “Leo’s… not doing great, given the timing, but he’ll be okay with time. Might be a while before he’s back to pester you, though. Or take any shifts.”

“I will somehow manage without this added disruption in my life,” he said with a straight face. He was partly relieved; mostly, however, he was quietly calculating just how hurt the boy must be to be gone for a while. To be taken straight from a hospital bed before he had a chance to recover-- “And you say both of these aliens are now dead, yes?”

“With extreme prejudice,” April said with satisfaction.

“I am sure my customers will be relieved to hear the danger has fully passed, then.” He sipped his tea.

“Oh yeah, sure.” She grinned at him, snagging another bread stick. “And I’ll let Leo know you were worried about him.”

He frowned at her over his cup. “You will not. He is insufferable enough as it is and I will confess to nothing.”

“Hmm, I dunno…”

“I can still charge you for those bread sticks you are eating.”

“Man, you think my silence can be bought?” She waved at him with the bread stick in question before biting it in half, and he sighed.

“I was under the impression humans were easily corruptible, yes.”

“Oh, we totally are.”

The O’Neil women were definitely going to be headaches in his life, weren’t they. Hueso found he wasn’t particularly annoyed by that fact, but he made sure to sigh again. It gave him an opening in any case. “Would you like to take some food home with you? The family must surely be quite exhausted, if they are all dead on their feet like the two of you.”

“That would be amazing and my lips are sealed,” April said sunnily. “Only can we get stuff that isn’t pizza? We kind of, uh, wanna hold off on that for a bit. Long story.”

Odd. But he didn’t care enough to question it. She had overloaded him with enough stressful exposition already. “I will put together some other options. It...may take a while, if you care to rest until it is—”

A green hand landed flat on top of the meatball pile, and they both jumped. And watched as Raphael grabbed a full handful of meat and shoved it into his mouth, chewing slowly before letting out a snore and sinking back into sleep again.

Well, then. He was beginning to understand why Raph had defended himself about eating phones.

“Does he do this often?”

April cackled.

---------

Mayhem was in his kitchen.

Having a staring contest with Hop.

Hueso counted to ten. And then tapped the rabbit yokai politely on the shoulder, pretending he didn’t see the boy jump more than strictly necessary. “You have work to do. I will deal with the interloper.”

Hop nodded vigorously and then took off the front counter, stumbling over his own big feet on the way out the door. Hueso sighed. And took his place, staring down the tiny yokai with the most unimpressed look he could manage.

Mayhem stared mildly back.

“I am going to put together some pasta and burritos for the Hamatos,” Hueso said finally. “When I am done, kindly make sure it gets back to wherever they are staying and deposit the two in my office directly into their beds. Then I will consider us even.”

Mayhem tilted his head as if he couldn’t possibly know what Hueso was talking about; as if the little sneak hadn’t dumped humans in his lap not one week before. His tail dipped off the ledge he was sitting to wave dangerously close to a pot full of bubbling mince.

Hueso pointed a finger bone at him. “Do not threaten me, pequeña mierda. I know where you came from.”

Mayhem stuck his nose in the air and turned away. But his tail curled around him obediently and his ears twitched back.

Just so long as they were agreed.

---------

April was snoring on top of Raphael when he returned. He took a picture, careful to cut Raphael out of the shot, and sent it to Carol.

Hueso: >> You told her I was concerned. A lie and a terrible betrayal.

Carol’s response took a while in coming. He wondered if she was laughing at him.

Mrs O’Neil: >> Which is it? 👀 A lie or a betrayal it can’t logically be both

Hueso: >> We will have words about this later. For now, I am sending your daughter home to bed.

Mrs O’Neil: >> Gracias, Senor.

---------

Knowing the family were okay did set his mind at ease somewhat. His restaurant seemed much quieter without the turtles coming through, but it wasn’t as if Run of the Mill was a picture of serenity without them. Not with his customer list including mob bosses and smugglers and the occasional pirate, but largely his customers knew very well to treat his restaurant with respect and cause no issues (providing, of course, he did not double-book certain parties ever again.)

Life settled into some semblance of normal over the next week as the invasion became more distant; for the majority of the yokai it had been merely a source of hushed gossip, trapped as they were quite safely in the Hidden City’s lockdown. (Hueso was under no illusions. If the invasion had not been halted on the surface, the Krang would have found them all eventually. He kept that to himself.)

Carol messaged him some days later, minutes after closing, and he glanced down at the message and couldn’t help his faint huff of amusement:

Carol: >> YOU DIDN’T SAY HER FRIENDS WERE GREEN >> also thank you for the complimentary cheesecake how did you know

Hueso: >> I didn’t say they were human, either. >> I have my ways. You can work them out yourself I’m sure.

Carol: >> A lie and a terrible betrayal!!! >> You saw the delivery address. More stupid questions?

Hueso: >> I do not think that is the clever retort you think it is. I neither lied nor betrayed. I am an honest man* >> * Terms and conditions apply >> Also yes, but you are welcome. Your home is intact?

Carol: >> For the most part. Some minor repairs needed. >> The boys are fine. I only met one, but he’s charming in an awkward sort of way. They’re coming for dinner next week!

Ah. Hueso closed the door to his office, leaning against it, and felt… lighter. That was promising. In more ways than one. If the boys were going to a family dinner, they were okay. And Carol had met a turtle and invited him to dinner. Truly, a unique human being. He suspected he was going to enjoy their conversations.

(He wondered if she threatened the turtle with a knife first.)

Hueso: >> All of them?

Carol: >> As far as I know. Does that help? Would you like me to pass on a message?

“Like you did last time?” he muttered. But he appreciated the offer even so.

Hueso: >> That is quite all right. If they are well enough for dinner, I’m sure I will be seeing them myself sometime soon. Gracias.

He saw the dots come up and vanish again, then reappear, and he waited patiently.

Carol: >> You’re welcome 🥰

He wondered what she had been typing. But his curiosity was only mild, and it had been a long day; Hueso collected his briefcase, checked in with the closing staff, and made his way home in a surprisingly good mood.

---------

The following weekend, he woke to find she had sent him a picture. He opened it over breakfast and promptly spat milk across the table.

It was a picture of April, holding up her phone with a wide grin, her camera panned back to catch Donatello perched on the back of a couch like a menacing and mildly deranged vulture. Those strange machine hands of his were extended down with markers in their pincers, scrawling on the side of a sleeping Leonardo’s face. Michelangelo was leaning over one side of the couch with a marker in his hands but it looked like he was laughing too much to contribute, and he could just see Raphael—a much less exhausted and less bandaged Raphael, for which he was quietly relieved—looking at the camera with a grin and gesturing at his brothers, his mouth smeared with… chocolate? That was probably chocolate--

Carol: >> Proof of life 🎊🎊

Hueso: >> A terrible invasion of their privacy.

Carol: >> I’m innocent! My daughter is the fiend here. You don’t hae to worry, I didn’t say a word >> *have

If Leonardo was sleeping at this dinner, he was still healing—but clearly in safe territory, if his brothers were… well. Being brothers. He’d certainly woken up several times as a child to find his bones decorated in all kinds of rude messages. Hueso grimaced at the memory and took a closer look.

The boy had lost weight. Not enough to be frightening; enough that Hueso contemplated whether he could get away with inflicting more food on them without the repercussions of Leonardo’s smarmy grin and assumptions. Probably not. Besides, he had faith that Carol would have fed them well and Michelangelo was an excellent chef in his own right. He was not needed here.

Hueso: >> Gracias. >> Is it all right if I print this?

Carol: >> You may do with it what you like. April knew what she was doing.

Like mother, like daughter. The girl was a menace. But in this case… he smiled and tucked back into his breakfast, wiping up the spilled milk with a napkin. April was all right. He would have to let her know that her family was welcome at his pizzeria, provided they were not easily shocked by some of his clientele.

---------

Carol🗡️: >> Maybe a quieter night. Do you have quiet nights?

Hueso: >> First Wednesday of the month is Human Night Out. It only attracts the younger yokai.

Carol🗡️: >> Sounds ominous. Human Night Out?

Hueso: >> Wherein we hide all traces of the Hidden City and pretend we are a human pizzeria. There are costumes.

Carol🗡️: >> ...that’s actually something yokai are interested in?

Hueso: >> You don’t have theme nights in your own restaurants? The younger yokai are fascinated by humans. The older… not so much. It is quieter. There are ‘exotic’ dishes which I think you would find fairly mundane. The yokai would think you were just in disguise.

Carol🗡️: >> Okay that’s amazing. Don’t you lose money though?

Hueso: >> Not when people pay a premium for the exotic dishes.

Carol🗡️: >> I detect a con.

Hueso: >> I’m sure I have no idea what you mean. Booking for 7pm?

Carol🗡️: >> We’ll be there. I’ll review your exotic dishes.

Hueso: >> I’ll give you a discount for your first time if you review them positively.

Carol🗡️: >> We’ll see 😁

---------

[unknown number] >> I know I know youve been so worried about me I amhere

Hueso: >> New phone, who is this

Niño idiota: >> Ohohoho OUCH we gotta work on ur meme skills u did it wrong

Hueso: >> I’m sure I don’t care.

Niño idiota: >> well when u decide u do care as u inevinnev something something do its ‘new phone who dis’

Hueso: >> ‘inevitably’.

Niño idiota: >> that’s what i said >> anyway sorry i was out of touch i lost my phone?? prolly left it somwhere u know how it is >> I owe u a shift just lmk when

Hueso is typing… Hueso is typing…

Niño idiota: >> did I break u with like responsibillity want me to be an idiota just to balance things??

Hueso: >> I will not need anyone for a few weeks. But do not think you are off the hook. I am sure I can find something tedious for you to do. >> You are already an idiot no need to rub it in.

Niño idiota: >> u love me and u know it

Hueso: >> Debatable.

Niño idiota: >> Debatable!!! thats not a no u no

Hueso: >> Get some sleep and learn to spell. I am busy.

Niño idiota: >> ✨🎊👏👏😘😊😏 >> in that order or

> Read 3.48pm

Niño idiota: >> you leave idiota on read??? rude tbh jail bla bla bla >> 🥺🥺🥺 >> 😎see u soon✨

---------

“—get it, but I wish you’d told me before this!” The voice was whining and petulant and very, very familiar. He felt a Pavlovian sense of annoyance rise up almost as fast as the sheer relief, and Hueso opened the kitchen door a crack to peer out.

Sure enough, there they were. Finally. Leonardo was leaning against the closest booth to the alleyway portal, but he was on his feet and that was good enough. Michelangelo was latched onto one arm and Hueso couldn’t tell if it was clingy affection or for extra stability. Perhaps both. Leonardo’s pout was ridiculously overdramatic, which told Hueso the boy was perfectly fine with whatever he hadn’t been told, and if he had eyes, he would roll them. Teenagers.

“Sorry, Leo, we kinda forgot.” Raphael rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. The eye patch was gone with no sign of wounds beneath. “It was a spur of the moment thing, but the kid’s never had pizza, so—”

“Nah, I get it,” Leo said, waving his free hand. “But I’m totally complaining about this injustice for the rest of the night, just so you know.”

“Oh nooo, a surprise no one could have foreseen, however will we manage your-- oh wait, I have headphones.” Donatello, moving around them with a look of complete disinterest and his phone in his hand.

There. All four of them.

Hueso breathed. Hop had already picked up his notebook and was rounding the counter; he managed to catch him by the shoulder before Hop could get further (another jump, were all rabbit yokai so anxious or just this one?) and took the notebook from him, gesturing with his bony chin toward the kitchen. The message was clear: trade places.

Then he waited until all four were seated—pretended he wasn’t paying attention to the way Michelangelo helped Leonardo into the booth—and sauntered over, the picture of nonchalance, grateful that his voice was dry as the desert when he spoke. “Ah, my most destructive customers. I thought it had been quiet around here.”

Donatello didn’t even look up from his phone, which was the very picture of normal for him. But the other three did, with Raphael and Michelangelo throwing him cheerful smiles. Leonardo lit right up with a flash of teeth in a smug grin that said he was about to say something incredibly obnoxious. Good. Business as usual. Even if he wasn’t currently flailing at Hueso with his usual dramatics, which he suspected meant the boy was still sore, at the very least.

“Bone man!” Leonardo beamed, then sprawled in the booth with a barely-there wince, propped up by his little brother. “Toldja it’d be soon. Miss me?”

“Yes,” he said flatly. “But my aim is getting better.”

Donatello snorted at his screen, and Leonardo made a face. “Seriously? That’s like… so old, you need to hang around someone younger with better jokes—”

“Someone like you, perhaps?” Hueso pinned him with a look, tapping his notebook. “You seem to have forgotten where I heard that from in the first place.”

“Memory issues,” Michelangelo said solemnly, pushing Leonardo delicately upright again. “Concussions will do that to ya.”

Hueso raised the notebook to hide his smile as Leonardo shot him a betrayed look. “You told him?”

“I’m sorry, was that meant to be a secret?” Donatello glanced up finally. “We’ve been incommunicado for weeks after an invasion and he called you while you were sleeping it off. What do you think we told him?”

“I told him, technically,” Michelangelo said cheerfully, “But it’s okay, Leo! I didn’t tell him anything else! Pinky promise.”

Raphael raised a hand sheepishly. “Yeah, uh, but April and Raph might’ve...”

Leonardo’s expression flickered from surprised to guilty to mildly distressed before it settled on the sulkiest frown he’d seen on the boy yet. “Well, that’s not fair. I was gonna like… derail him with tales of our epic adventures and everything, and you beat me to it.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘regale’, Nardo.”

“Derailing may still happen,” Hueso said dryly, tapping his finger bones on the edge of the table to get their attention back. “If you intend to continue this fascinating conversation rather than order your food?”

“Hah,” Leonardo muttered. “That’s totally what I meant—”

“Hush up,” Michelangelo said, leaning past him. “I’m hungry. Can I get the mystic lasagna?”

He took their orders after that, watching them carefully as they talked. Raphael’s eye was a little red, but was tracking correctly and obviously focused. A good sign, he hoped. Donatello seemed utterly like his normal self, and Michelangelo was wearing what seemed to be compression gloves. Leonardo… was still thin, and looked very tired, but Hueso had seen him far more exhausted. There were splashes of vivid colour creeping over the top of his shell which he couldn’t help but stare at, trying to work out what they were.

Leonardo tilted his head at the curiosity, and then smiled more genuinely, twisting slightly so that Hueso could get a better look. “Like it? My little brother is awesome, as usual.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Michelangelo huffed, but he was grinning as Hueso stared at the beautifully painted marigolds, petunias, and tulips winding their way across Leonardo’s shell.

The boy was an impressive artist; not just for the careful love and detail on such an unusual surface, but the way he’d crafted his art to disguise injury. Because Hueso had to pay very close attention to see the repair job to the shell beneath.

The damage had been… extensive. He’d thought Raphael’s shell had been bad; no wonder he had been incommunicado for so long.

Leonardo’s smile shifted strangely on his face, and he sounded almost uncertain. “What do you think?”

Ah. It was hard to translate what Leonardo really wanted to hear. But given the way Michelangelo had gone so far to hide this injury… he leaned back again, humming thoughtfully. “I think the next time I would like new art for the restaurant, I should see if your brother is free. It may perhaps be a less destructive option than waiting tables.”

Leonardo grinned in pride as Michelangelo brightened next to him. “Really? I would love to do some art for you, Senor Hueso! I could bring my portfolio next time!”

“You have a portfolio?” Raphael looked confused. “Wait, what’s a portfolio?”

“It’s a port just for me, duh,” Leo drawled, and then reeled back as Donatello threw a wad of napkins into his face. “Hphh!”

“That was terrible and you know it.”

“It was pretty great, actually.” Leonardo spat a piece of napkin at him and smiled lazily. “You’re just jealous I thought of it first.”

Donatello resolutely ignored him and turned to Raphael. “It’s a collection of sample works that illustrate an artist’s skill and range.”

...had they forgotten he was here? Typical. He coughed loudly, and watched them all swivel back to him attentively. “Yes, bring your portfolio. I suppose I am interested. The flowers look very lovely.” He paused, but in the end he couldn’t resist. “Though it does make you look like you’re about to be thrown at a wedding.”

“Sounds like a fun sport,” Donatello drawled. “Let’s get Kendra married off so we can bowl Leo at her bridal party. If she has enough friends for that.”

“Can—can we wait until he can survive that first, Raph would like not to panic all over again—”

“Why should Leo get all the fun? I’m the small one, let me be the bouquet!” Michelangelo had literal stars in his eyes. “I’d love to be a bunch of flowers.”

“Yeah, but you can hardly paint your own back, Miguel.”

“Challenge accepted. This bitch yeet!”

“Okay, one: language, and two: even Raph knows that’s not how it goes—”

“What’s wrong with yeet?”

“Leonardo--”

Maybe he shouldn’t have made the joke. Hueso sighed heavily, and this time it didn’t stop them from continuing on with... apparently inventing a brand new hobby. Teenagers. But lively ones, and he would rather they were here giving him a headache than go through the weeks of quiet that had preceded this one.

“I’ll take your orders to the kitchen,” he said, and turned on his heel.

“Hey, wait—”

There was a tug on his sleeve, and he turned in surprise to find Leonardo half out of the booth and trying to keep his balance; Michelangelo had an arm wrapped around him to stop him falling, but was still arguing with the others. Apparently he’d lunged to get Hueso’s attention without thinking it through. Good grief. He stepped forward and put his bony hand under Leonardo’s elbow, gently pushing him back into his seat.

“Do not do that again,” he said quietly, and Leonardo made a sheepish face.

“Sorry. I just wanted to, uh…”

He trailed off. Hueso raised an eyebrow and waited patiently until he glanced away.

“Did we worry you?”

What an odd question. Or rather, what an odd delivery. He would have expected Leonardo to be smug, taking it as proof of their friendship, but Leonardo seemed more anxious about the prospect. And Hueso thought back to their text conversation. To the boy’s completely nonchalant dismissal of his silence and missing phone.

“Only a little,” he said, voice mild. “In truth, I was more impressed by the tale. One could say that you and your brothers acted like…”

And Hueso smiled. Pointedly.

“...champions.”

Leonardo mouthed the word back in confusion, before realisation lit his face. Hueso took advantage of the pause to move away, heading for the kitchen with his notebook, listening briefly to the conversation behind him--

“Raph! Raph! Hey, gimme a lift, I need to go check the Wall of Champions—”

Hueso vanished into the kitchen and passed off their order to his kitchen hands. He only had two photos of the boys, after all. One was still quite firmly pinned to the Maze of Death cheaters wall. The other--

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?”

His staff shrank back; both at the yell and at Hueso’s wide grin, which admittedly looked downright unnerving on a living skeleton, he could admit--

“Omigosh we’re champions!”

“With this photo!? YOU’RE DRAWING ON MY FACE!”

“Well, someone had to. I, at least, look suitably championlike—”

“You look like a deranged gremlin is what you look like. Couldn’t he, like, edit out the chocolate first?”

“I mean, it could be worse, Leo! We could have been drawing something that wasn’t PG-13.”

“Where’s April? I’m gonna kill her.” Leonardo was wailing. “She sent this to Hueso!?”

Hueso swept through the kitchen and into his office, shutting the door behind him so that nobody could hear him laugh.

#rottmnt #rottmnt fic #oh only 14 pages an improvement--/shot #nekotsuki #no rest for the weary #(adjacent)#furthering my carol and hueso friendship agenda don't mind me #also I wanna hang that photograph on MY wall lmao

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happy74827 · 1 year

Text

The Night You Left

{!!SPOILERS!! SEASON 4 EPISODES 1-8}

[Rhys Montrose x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: After an argument that went wrong in many ways, you left your boyfriend in the dust. It was only later when you eventually found it to be the biggest mistake of your life.

WC: 675

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/No Comfort (ish)

This one is super short, but I wanted to get something out before the weekend ended. So... enjoy!

『••✎••』

You couldn't even remember what the two of you were arguing about. One minute you were cuddled up on the sofa, watching a Disney classic, and the next you were both screaming like a bunch of banshees.

The anger you felt, which might have been unjustified, clouded your judgment and actions. At one point, you had a nagging feeling that you had gone beyond being violent and possibly had thrown his grandma's handcrafted vase at his head. It was a little fuzzy, but if you had, he must have been quick on his feet. You didn't recall seeing any blood.

At the end of the fight, which could have been hours or minutes, you stormed out with him at your tail. His begs and pleas for you not to go, his insufferable fists on the car door to get you to open up, and his demands that both of you worked out whatever it was, were the only things that came back to you.

Thinking back, you wished you had reopened the door. You wished you could have pulled him into a hug, forgiving him for everything, but your past self was a stupid idiot. A selfish, insufferable stupid idiot.

You drove off, purposely dusting him in the process, with not a care in the world. You figured he would call you later in the evening with apologies and flowers at your doorstep, but he never did. When guilt hit you, you attempted to call, but he never picked up, and Rhys always picked up when it was you.

The silent treatment went on for days, and your calls became more and more frantic.

The things you said, the things you believed you said, were not the things you meant. Of course, they weren't. You loved him more than anything, and you wanted to let him know that. If he was going to shove you out of your life, fine, but at least he should hear the truth from you.

It was then, two days later, that you found out he wasn't actually ignoring you. He couldn't call you because he was gone. Murdered. Slaughtered down in the woods like some animal. When you watched the news, your heart sank.

You felt numb like you couldn't breathe. Memories of your smiles and laughter from the early days of your relationship - the good times - surrounded your brain. His flirty personality that got you hooked, the British accent that made anything sound like Heaven, his absurd love for alcoholic beverages, the way he would prioritize forehead kisses over lip kisses, the smile he'd give you when you came into view, his hands... God, his goddamn writer hands...

The more you drank, the more he appeared in your apartment. The irony was that, although he was a figment of your imagination, he scolded you for drinking and reminded you it was his job, not yours. He would hold your hand, wipe your tears, and act as though he had never left. But in reality, he was never there.

From time to time, you still felt his lips hovering over yours, giving you the same tingly feeling you had always experienced. You believed it to be him staying around you, like the Patrick Swayze movie you used to watch together. He always hated it, but because you loved it so much, he tolerated it.

A few days after his body was found, and his funeral was held, new evidence suggested that some random, mentally ill college kid had murdered Rhys. It was hard to believe that such a pleasant and charismatic man like Rhys could be taken away so suddenly by someone who lived too much in their head.

After the article was published, explaining the whole ordeal, Rhys became forgotten by many. The man who was running for mayor was swept into the far abyss, and people moved on with their lives. But you were still drowning in your liquor.

You were drowning and the one person who could pull you up was gone. No one else cared.

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mariacallous · 3 months

Text

With the benefit of long memories, we can confidently say that never in the history of the Palestinian-Israeli tragedy has the situation been as dire or perilous as it is today. But never has there been greater clarity about the essential components of a future peace settlement.

What sets apart the recent atrocious events—the horrific Hamas attack on Israel that killed over 1,100 people and the ongoing, belligerent Israeli response on Gaza, which has killed over 25,000 Palestinians—is that they have reopened deep wounds for both peoples: for Israeli Jews of the Holocaust; for Palestinians the Nakba, or ��catastrophe.” Both peoples are in psychological turmoil, and emotions are exceptionally raw.

When the cannons eventually fall silent, the reckonings will begin. Hamas is currently enjoying a spell of popularity among traumatized Palestinians, but will it ever be forgiven for the death and destruction it recklessly—and almost certainly knowingly—provoked? Caught woefully off-guard on Oct. 7, 2023, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu may have the country behind him in pursuit of Hamas, but for how long will he be able to stay the course once a semblance of normality is restored?

Sooner or later, after decades of suffocating Israeli occupation, there was bound to be a seismic explosion, but not necessarily in the form it took. Hamas could have chosen instead to emulate the largely nonviolent border protests it had itself orchestrated some five years earlier, but to greater effect this time in light of its resourceful thwarting of Israel’s electronic surveillance barriers. Had they come unarmed in their thousands to explain and not to kill, Palestinians’ pleas for freedom and equality could instantly have been broadcast across the land and further afield and could have had a profound impact on the political climate in Israel and fostered new political currents.

By choosing a violent path instead, Hamas instantly nullified its long-term strategic goal to be accepted by world governments as a legitimate interlocutor in any discussions about the future. While the group might claim some tactical benefits, Oct. 7 will be seen as a massive act of self-sabotage when the dust settles.

In its vindictive reflex response, the Israeli war cabinet likewise abandoned the strategy that had been pursued for years of bolstering Hamas’s rule in Gaza to forestall the prospect of a Palestinian state on the West Bank and Gaza under a unified leadership. The new aim—to destroy every vestige of Hamas—was not the outcome of rigorous strategic thinking but a spontaneous lashing out by the supposed guardians of Israel’s security.

The new goal is not just ill-thought-out. It is also unattainable, although it is not beyond Israel’s leaders to keep moving the goal posts to enable them at some point to declare victory. Rather than destroying Hamas, the relentless battering of Gaza and its entrapped inhabitants is more likely to act as a recruiting sergeant for the organization. This, in turn, is Israel’s own act of self-sabotage.

Israel also had choices. In the light of the new era in which the state had acquired official relations with a growing number of Arab countries, a robust, inclusive, regional response could potentially have been swiftly devised. The outcome would almost certainly have been less destructive and more effective than Israel’s unilateral military response. It might have avoided the deaths of thousands and led to the release of the Israeli and foreign hostages captured by Hamas on Oct. 7.

For all this, the prospects of a new peace process emerging from the ashes of the present wretchedness may, ironically, have been enhanced by recent events, for two main reasons.

First, the common fallacy that the Palestinians are a defeated people and that the Palestinian issue could be sidelined has been exposed as the nonsense it always has been. Second, the related illusion that the conflict could be managed or contained has been shattered. It cannot be. It has to be resolved, for otherwise there will be more explosions with the resulting toxins continuing to overflow into the rest of the world. There is no way of resolving this conflict without Israel fully ending its decades-old occupation of the West Bank and the siege of Gaza, so that the Palestinians may be free to exercise their self-determination and live in freedom and dignity.

Since the 1967 Arab-Israeli War, every seismic explosion of violence related to the conflict has sparked moves toward peace, even if, in some cases, they ultimately failed to reach fruition: The 1967 war itself prompted a steady evolution in Palestinian attitudes toward accepting a Palestinian state alongside Israel instead of in place of Israel; the 1973 war led to the Egypt-Israel peace treaty six years later; the First Intifada in 1987 culminated in the Oslo Accords in the 1990s, which, at the time, were widely believed to herald a new era of peace based on two states; and the Second Intifada in 2000 triggered the 2002 Arab Peace Initiative, with its offer to Israel of full recognition by all 22 members of the Arab League, in exchange for Palestinian statehood on the West Bank and Gaza, with East Jerusalem as its capital.

As for the future, the wheel need not be reinvented. Peace between sovereign states can only be achieved through a cooperative relationship between the Arabian Peninsula and the Levant. This is the only course of action to end the current nightmare of violence and brutality.

All the vital ingredients for such a settlement and peace in the Middle East were set out in the aforementioned Arab Peace Initiative, which has also been endorsed by the Organization of Islamic Cooperation. It urgently needs to be revived—and revised if warranted—and energetically promoted from within the region to the Israeli and Palestinian people who, in the wake of Oct. 7, both need credible assurances of their safety, security, and acceptance in the region that—in the end—is their home.

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riftdancing · 2 months

Note

Softer question this time.

Question Three! Siyoh grew up in a bakery. She helped work it. She suffered for it. Does she still bake? Does she have a favorite recipe? A favorite food?

Siyoh's life at this point revolves around food and hospitality. She's dedicated her life to becoming a passionate culinarian and trades woman.

After the revolution Rex helped her reclaim her family's business by financing her purchase of the old family Bakery, which was at least still mostly intact. Now that the occupation had passed Siyoh wanted to restore the honor her parents had fostered before her and celebrate their memory.

She considered reopening a bakery, but with it brought many ill memories of living a life under occupation. Furthermore, since living in Limsa Lominsa she'd learned a lot about both Othardian and Eorzean cooking. Too, she learned many out West were not familiar with Eastern customs nor food, and this was something she wanted to change.

Siyoh is incredibly passionate about Doman (and Thavnarian) culture. She loves spreading the wisdom both her Mother and Father passed on to her about their traditions and culture. She's excited to share Eastern food with those who have never tried it before, and since the revolution brought so many new faces to the East it cultivated the perfect opportunity for her current business, the Umbral Udon, which operates out of the building which used to be her Mother's bakery.

A now thriving venture in the East, it serves primarily as a Ramen Shop/Noodle Bar. However, there is an RSVP only venture in which Siyoh cooks a multi-course meal for a group of up to six diners she calls 'A Taste of the East.' This is mostly for foreigners but some locals enjoy participating too. The goal of this meal is to introduce patrons to an assortment of both Hingan and Doman cuisine and educate them on the historical and cultural influences and significance of each dish.

As a trader following in her Father's footsteps and working with a lot of his pre-established contacts, Siyoh has access to a wide range of the most fresh and delicious ingredients on the Eastern roads, seas, and winds. Further more, as the Umbral Udon works hand in hand with her sister establishment, Azuma's 'The Doman Dragon', they also have a large plot of land where they work their own fresh foods and ingredients.

Her work ethic, trading know-how, and contacts are what likely originally caught Rex's eye and influenced him to finance both establishments. But also likely led to the early attractions between both Rex and Siyoh, who are now romantically involved much much later down the line.

These days, most of the labor for the Umbral Udon is worked by staff which have been carefully curated by Siyoh. Why? Because she has moved her business further West to be more involved with Firelight Trading Company leading their Hospitality division. (You know, so that she can be closer to her man and not an entire ocean apart...)

Part of her job entails things such as curating the menu and management of The Fireside. Which is why if you ever attend one of the Fireside in game roleplay events, you might catch Siyoh make an entrance in the last 20-30 minutes before close to take inventory, see what sold, make adjustments to the menu, and make sure the staff and Baristas (like Mihli and Sarrai) are happy.

So she absolutely still bakes. I don't think she bakes for sale any more, but rather more as a love language for those around her and to keep the memories of her Mother close.

When Siyoh was still spending time under As'htola's roof in Limsa Lominsa, I once wrote about how she covered her kitchen in currant tarts. She spent the entire day and night making them, desperate to perfect them because she could almost remember why they mattered so much to her. And that Starlight, she remembered it was because of her Mother.

So food and cooking, also played major parts in Siyoh regaining her memories and healing too.

Food is her love language, but also a universal language. Food brings people together.

#thanks for the ask!#riftdancing - answers #character - siyoh mari #establishment - the umbral udon #siyoh has a lot of favorite foods #it would probably be hard for her to pick just one #but she loves citrus #she adores using lemon in cooking #but especially in her baking #more so siyoh LOVES tangerines #I'm pretty sure as'htola also loved oranges/tangerines #so they shared that #I remember I used to write about her bringing baskets home to Tola some days #I also often write about Siyoh smelling like tangerine blossoms due to a perfume she makes and wears #eastern wise she absolutely loves any dish with glass noodles #glass noodles and a lot of fresh veggies #japchae (a korean noodle dish often served for celebrations) inspired I'm sure

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relocatedheads · 2 years

Text

I cant get him out my head!

( I saw @sarafinatheasassin send this ask to @xxxgalaxyfriendxxx and felt a strong itch to write this :) i hope i’ve done the idea justice )

Summary: “sonic develops a crush on shaodw in sonic 3 and maddie is the one who had to sit him down and give him ‘the talk’ becuase tom is too busy freaking out becuase he wasn’t expecting this at all and poor sonic is just super confused about what’s going on”. Pairings: Sonadow Trigger Warnings: None :) Content Warnings: Short tempered moments

The wachowski’s morning route was set in stone at this point: Maddie does yoga accompanied by Knuckles, Tails is tinkering with some new invention at the dining table, Sonic is helping Tom cook up breakfast - everyones favourite, Pancakes! The radio is pattering nonsense in the back, only really to be heard when Tom hums a song, the true sounds of the room are bowls and spoons tapping, renches cracking and Maddies laughs as Knuckles struggles to remain a fairly simple pose. Sonic and Tom laugh too through the window, obviously causing the Echidna to growl at his counter parts.

“You wanna go tell them it’s pancake time?” Tom bumps Sonic, whilst putting the pan on the stove.

“If he pounces at me, its your fault!” The boy left the room to get his brother and mum. He’s joined moments later with both. The boys understand its time to sit at the table and it’s now Maddies turn to be kitchen helper. A brief welcome-back kiss and a choir of ‘ewww’s are the sounds of the room. Maddie turns the radio up slightly as she dots about getting the toppings.

“It’s 8am and it’s time for the morning news. We have a few stories for you this morning, folks. There was a serious accident the west side of state last night and roads heading in and out are still either closed or at a stand still, household bills are hitting an all time high and the govner is due in court this afternoon to being talks to help this crisis and GUN have sent out a public statement sharing they’re reopening the research project, Project Shadow, after 50 years of inactivity.” The reporter signs off and the sounds of the room reenter pop space.

Maddie and Tom share a look, “Project Shadow? Are they mental?” Tom gasps.

“I don’t see why now. Wasn’t it too dangerous?”

“Well it has been 50 years-“

“Whats Project Shadow?” Tails interups.

“Some research project to create a remedy for illness. There was a scientist who spent years on it, he tried to create this ultimate life form but everyone presumed it was a waste because it got shut down after a while and nothing was to show for it.’ Maddie informed the boys, serving their plates simultaneously.

“Ultimate life form.” Sonic laughs, “That's so pretentious!”

“My father used to tell me about it. He had some odd interest in it. Perhaps because it was so far advanced for that time, i won’t know. But its actually quite sad. The scientist had a sick grandaughter, can’t remember what was wrong with her but it wasn’t easy on them.” Tom finished, filling the seats at the table.

“Did she die and that caused him to retire his project?” Sonic asked.

“I remember losing my father, it made me want to protect the master emerald even more. Why would he dishonour his purpose?” Knuckles retorted.

“Humans suffer when losing people, Big Guy. Some of us will get stronger but others lose themselves a little.” Maddie told him directly, returning her attention to the rest, she continued “Nobody knows if her dying caused the case to go under, nobody knows when she died. It kinda just…. stopped.”

————————————————————————————

“Nice to see you showed up, Hedgehog!” Robotnik yelled from his robot.

“I always show up, Robotnik!”

“See you’ve brung your friends with you, too! How sweet!” The 3 exchanged looks “I’m getting that emerald back even if it means i have to kill you”

“Over my dead body!” Knuckles retorted, the doctor laughed.

“Knuckles! You can’t send offers like that!” Tails facepalms.

“Is that how its gonna be?” robotnik laughs, sending the first hit.

The team battle for a short while, Tails using his dining table inventions to aid him, Sonic spin dashing and Knuckles crushing. The team hold themselves well against the doctors tech. “I’m going too easy on them!” He yells to Stone,

“Does this mean-“ Stone begins

“-Show them who we’ve got? Release him.” Robotnik finishes.

On ground, the ragtag team find themselves stood in a back to back huddle awaiting the next move. The move is unprepearable, a blacked out frame similar to Sonic’s is thrown in front of them. The distance between the 2 groups is filled with a low growl from Knuckles, a gasp from Tails and a squint from Sonic. He knew how shadows worked… his shouldnt be that high up-

Sonic could see the eyes, hands, mussle, feet of the new foe but couldn’t register how something that looked exactly his shape existed. His eyes took it all in, similar build, similar stance but all too unfamilar. The black fur, the white tuft, the panting stance, the red framed boots, the rings. He knew this creature was, too, a hedgehog but it felt so too different to be one. The figure dissapeared, the trio found themselves spining around looking for it.

Knuckles was first. He got swept off his feet almost within an instant, the black blur had thrown the lad to the floor, disapearing once more. “What- Who was that!” Knuckles grumbled to his crew. Sonic stood in sheer shock, Tails ran straight to help his fallen mate.

Sonic felt his brows knot instantly, he looked around for the culprit. “Ahh!” Tails squilled as the blur reappeared, taking the fox in his hands. Sonic knew he should be angry, he should be defending his brothers, but for as much as his brain was screaming at him, he couldn’t move. All he could do was watch, mouth a gape, browed scrunched, breath held. All he could look at was the stranger.

The foe turned his direction to the blue hedgehog. Sonic felt an unfamilair ping, he wasn’t scared but he wasn’t his overly confident sassy self. In the corner of his eye he could see Knuckles regaining himself paying his attention to the fox, but the majority of his vission was given to his darker counterpart. At a speed hes only used to experiencing, never witnessing, he’s clutched by 2 white hands, running him away from his friends. His eyes clocks to his face, taking in the piecing red eyes, similarly point nose and red liner around his eyes.

“I thought you were mean to be the strongest creature in the galaxy?” He spoke in a low gravelled angry voice. Sonic didn’t answered, “Where’s the emerald!” The being threw Sonic to the floor, “Answer me!” “Do you know who i am?”

“I-um..”

“Sonic! What are you doing!” Tails yelled from the sidelines. Sonic didn’t know how to answer, he didnt know what to do, he didnt know how to move. This creature was straddled above him, throwing his fists at him and he was taking it. He’s never done this in his life.

“Why won’t you answer me!” The being grabbed the sides of Sonic’s face, “I’m the ultimate life form! Ignore me and you’ll regret it, hedgehog-”

‘ultimate life form’. the words tattooed themselves to Sonics brain, conversations from the other day flew into his head. His brain hyper focused on them 3 words to the point he could see nothing but the boy atop of him. Was this ‘project shadow’? Was this the remedy? Why would a he be after an emerald? Why? How does he know about them-

He was balled off the hero in a grey haze. Turns out Tails had a net shooter on him too!

As the figure was flung to the floor, Sonic was bolted up right. “This isn’t over yet, Faker.” The stranger disapeared yet again.

Knuckles was by Sonic, lending him an arm to lean on, Tails walked over to the two, “Hey, Sonic, are you alright?”

Sonic was staring at the bundle of netting on the dirt, cold confusion, “I-I um..” Knuckles and Tailed shared a glance.

———————————————

The crew were playing baseball, Knuckles on back stop, Tails swinging, Maddie and Tom in the field and Sonic batting.

“You got this, Sonic!” Maddie cheered

Sonic set himself us, staring at the ball, settling himself into the sand. He sighed into his concentration, but the moment the built up air left his lungs, his brain left the situation. Red cold eyes were his focus, the close us face of a stranger, pretty red eyes framed with red liner, a small point nose and a seemingly constant frown.

“Strike 1!” Tom yelled.

“Huh-?” Sonic zoned himself back in, shaking his head. Everyone staring his way.

“You okay bud?” Tom tilted his head,

“Yeah! Just testing you guys!” He lied, faking his laugh and confidence

------------------------------

“Tails, Darling, twist the spaghetti around you fork, like this,” Maddie giggled at the poor fox.

“Oh! Thank you!”

“How dare you dishonour me, spaghetti! Am I not worthy!”

It was the wachowski’s spag bowl night. They often had dinner together, chatting about their days and telling old stories. It’d been a few days since Sonic met Shadow, and it was consuming his life. Today he found himself shifting off mentally to think about the hedgehog. Right now, he could feel his family talking but he couldn’t comment on what the topic was. He was sitting with his head propped up on one hand and his other twirling the pasta around his fork. His mind was racing about this hedgehog, and his pretty sharp feature, low rippled voice, his roughness and his-

“Bud?” He was pulled back with a nudge to his foot. He looked up, Tom had whispered to him, “You okay?”

Sonic propped a smile on his face and gave a nod, enthusiastically eating a forkful. He quickly fell back into his daydream. Wondering what it’d be like to have that hedgehog here with him.

----------------------------------

Today, Sonic woke up to having the hedgehog on his mind. He’d dream about him. A simple, fluffy nonsense dream. The two in a tuff, Shadow (he was assuming this was his name due to the project title) pinning his arms above his head, heavy breathing. The two somehow ending their wrestle in a kiss.

He woke up somber that day, not particularly wanted to leave his bed. Tom breakfast making buddy unheard of that morning was a first.

“Where's Sonic, boys?”

“Asleep, Lord of Doughnuts.” Knuckled reported, sitting on the counter.

“What-? He’s usually well awake by now?” Maddie huffed, leaning into Tom who was cooking eggs.

“He hasn’t been himself lately.”

“Maybe he’s getting ill. Do you guys get sick?” She looked over to the red echidna, who was a mouthful of grapes. He nodded,

“Rarely. But it happens!” He mumbled through the grapes.

The humans share a glance, Maddie ruffled Knuckles spins and kissed Toms cheek, heading for the stairs to their attic. She knocked on the entrance, no answer. “Sonic? Can I come in?”

“Mmm”

“I’m coming in.” She opened the hatch, seeing her boy still tucked up in bed. “You feeling okay, Mister?”

“Yeah.”

She sat on his bed, he reluctantly moved his feet, sighing. She put the back of her hand to his forehead, he had no temperature. “You sure? You’re never in bed this late?”

“Yes. I've already told you.”

She raised her brows at him, “hm”, She looked around the room, “Well im here if you need me. Also you need to clean up a little in here. You three are too messy.” He hummed a reply, it made her smile sadly, “Get up, Sonic. Your breakfast is gonna go bad.” She stood up to leave the room, “And a bad diet will make running very heard for you!”

He huffed, turning in his bed again.

------------------------------------------

The 3 boys were chilling in their room, Sonic laying upside down on his bed, Knuckles and a pot of grapes slumped in the bean bag, Tails laying belly down on the floor tails swirling absentmindedly.

“Sonic, can we talk about the other week?” Tails offered

“What’s up buddy?” Sonic smiled, like his usual self

“You dishonored us in the face of an enemy!” Knuckles pipped up, raising his grape holding fists. Sonic looked away at this, he was still annoyed at himself.

“i wouldn’t put it like that, Knuckles. But are you okay Sonic?”

“Yeah, i guess, i never expected there to be another- another me! yaknow?” The blue hog was now fiddling with his fingers.

“Did it shock you? You never freeze up?”

“He- I don’t know.” Sonic rolled himself onto his belly, “I can’t get him out of my head-” The other boys narrowed their eyes to him, “Like, he called himself the ultimate life from. Like what mum and dad were speaking about! But i dont know why i cant stop thinking about him!”

“How does thinking of him make you feel?”

“Um- Weird. Like, i can’t do anything. He won’t leave my head. I get tingly hands sometimes.”

“Mum said once she used to get tingly hands when dad used to declare his love to her-” Knuckled added

“Knuckles, I don’t think Sonic feels that way”

—————————

“should we take the boys to get icecream?” Tom suggested rolling onto Maddie, who was relaxing on the sofa.

She laughed, “Is this you being a kind dad, or you using your own ice cream wanting through them?”

“Maaaaybe, but you know you want some too.. i know oozie does.”

They shared a quick kiss, “You go round them up, i go start the car?”

Tom bolted up, walked down the hall to the loft hatch, he got a few steps up the ladder about to knock-

“But i dont know why i cant stop thinking about him!”

“How does thinking of him make you feel?”

“Um- Weird. Like, i can’t do anything. He won’t leave my head. I get tingly hands sometimes.”

“Mum said once she used to get tingly hands when dad used-”

Tom speed down the ladder as quietly as he could, running to the garage where Maddie was, he grabbed her hands as she was about to enter the kitchen and sat her back in the car, shh’ing her the whole way.

“Are you-”

“I THINK SONIC HAS A CRUSH.”

“What!”

“I went to knock for the boys and i heard them talking. Sonic said something about not being able to not think about someone! he said he gives him tingly fingers! Knuckles said something about how you’d tingly fingers with me but i left before he finished!”

“Oh my god!”

“What do we do! I knew this would happen but no so soon!”

“This explains why's he not been himself lately!”

“Wait- Who do you think it could be?”

“Who has he meet lately-?” Just as these words left Maddies mouth, the two shared a knowing look. The boys had shared their encounter with them, they were both aware of Sonic stumbling but had palmed it off to nervousness.

“Oh no. This is even worse! He can’t- He’s gonna just be pining. There’s no way” Tom felt himself deflate at the idea of his sons first love being so unavailable. “Theres no chance they’ll ever see each other again or even, anything! He couldnt’ve fallen for Knuckles”

“How is that any easier-”

“At least he sees Knuckles and it could be spoken through- but now he’s going to go through all the pining and teenage emotions. Maddie i can’t do this- he’s still a kid!”

“Okay, Okay. Tom, i’ll speak to him. He’ll get through it! We don’t even know for sure yet”

————————————

“Mum?” Maddie heard a small voice, behind her.

She turned to see Sonic, in a dishevelled state, quills unbrushed. “You okay, darling?” She was making hers and Toms bed, she had set the pillow down feeling the room go heavy, he pattered on his feet for a moment, scratching his arms.

“Can I-umm” She could his eyes going glassy, “Eh-” He took a breath, “Can I tell you something?” She nodded, sitting on the bed, welcoming him. Once sat, he continued, “Erm-” He sighed, looking at his hands.

“Hug?” She asked, arms out. The hedgehog fell into her arms, melting instantly. She felt his tight shoulders. “Take your time, bud. It’s only me and you.” Sonic seemed to fall apart at that. She felt his small sob, and his hand hold her tighter. They stayed like that for a moment or two, letting Sonic direct the next move.

He pulled away, sipping his nose, sniffing. “Ew, im sorry- I- I don't know what come over me.”

“it’s okay, darling. We all cry sometimes.” She smiled

“Mum?” She nodded “I um- You know what black hedgehog we met a few weeks ago?” Maddie nodded again, “And you know how we all are almost aware he’s Shadow, like The-Project-Shadow Shadow?” Another nod was given. “Well- err-”

“Take your time,”

Sonic huffed,” I think I like him. But I dont know why. Or how I could. I’ve only met him once. But he won’t get out my head. Mum! Everything I do, I think about him- like he’s even in my dream now. I get jelly hands sometimes thinking about him and Knuckled told me you got that with dad. But you and dad had met loads of time- And I can’t like someone who's trans hurt me- How can I-” The hedgehog work vomited

“Breath, kiddo.” She put her hand on his now pink cheek. “Liking people can hit was anytime, any place, any intensity.” Sonic nodded, “You're okay to feel this was- it’s cute. Thank you for being so honest” He smiled at being called cute. “What do you like about him?”

“I keep thinking about his voice!” Sonic throw himself face down in the bed, “It’s so cringe- but it keeps replaying in my head. And his face- his eyes, Mum.” Maddie chuckled to herself, remembering being in this situation but with Tom. “I still feel his hands on mine and it-”

“It makes them feel all fuzzy and not real?”

“Yes!” Maddie laughed, “What do I do?”

“Live in it, Sonic. You can’t do anything right now, but you’ll get a moment. Like how you and Knuckles had your moment to settle your peace, you’ll get your moment with this Shadow.”

“But what if I mess it up! Mum, he wants to kill me! He’s after the think we’re protecting! Knuckles will kill me before he does!”

“I can’t answer that. Only you know that one. But you know better than anyone, everyone has a cover they show everyone else. Maybe he’s not a rude killing machine and it’ll just a play-”

“Hmm But I can’t function around him!”

She laughed, “You’ll figure it out, bud. Thank you for telling me. Remember to breath through it all, refocus yourself.”

Sonic jumped at her for a hug, “Thank you mum! I knew you’d understand better than Knuckles and Tails”

“What’d they say?”

“Tails told me to not star at him if we battle again, he said its very creepy. Knuckles told me, if I ‘dishonour the master emerald, I will dishonour the family name’” He put on a fake Knuckled accent. Maddie laughed.

“If you do meet again, chat to him. He may need that”

“I’ll try”

“Now, you can help me make this bed”

“No!”

#This IS SO LONG IM SOCSORRY #MUSH MUSH MUHS #fluff #sonic movie 2 #sonic wachowski #sonic boom #sonic the hedgehog #sonic 3 #sonic the movie #maddie wachowski #tom wachowski #sonadow #sonadow headcannon #shadonic #sonadow fluff #sonic fluff #my writing

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