#on one hand at least it’s not the prison dimension | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fatehbaz · 1 year

Text

Today, as you read this [...], there are almost 2 million people locked away in one of the more than 5,000 prisons or jails that dot the American landscape. While they are behind bars, these incarcerated people can be found standing in line at their prison’s commissary waiting to buy some extra food or cleaning supplies that are often marked up to prices higher than what one would pay outside of those prison walls. [...] If they want to call a friend or family member, they need to pay for that as well. And almost everyone who works at a job while incarcerated, often for less than a dollar an hour, will find that the prison has taken a portion of their salary to pay for their cost of incarceration. [...] These policymakers and government officials also know that this captive population has no choice but to foot the bill [...] and that if they can’t be made to pay, their families can. In fact, a 2015 report led by the Ella Baker Center for Human Rights, Forward Together, and Research Action Design found that in 63 percent of cases, family members on the outside were primarily responsible for court-related costs [...].

Rutgers sociology professor Brittany Friedman has written extensively on what is called “pay-to-stay” fees in American correctional institutions. In her 2020 article titled, “Unveiling the Necrocapitalist Dimensions of the Shadow Carceral State: On Pay-to-Stay to Recoup the Cost of Incarceration,” Friedman divides these fees into two categories: (1) room and board and (2) service-specific costs. Fees for room and board -- yes, literally for a thin mattress or even a plastic “boat” bed in a hallway, a toilet that may not flush, and scant, awful tasting food -- are typically charged at a “per diem rate for the length of incarceration.” It is not uncommon for these fees to reach $20 to $80 a day for the entire period of incarceration. The second category, what Friedman refers to as “service-specific costs,” includes fees for basic charges such as copays or other costs for seeing a doctor or nurse, programming fees, email and telephone calls, and commissary items.

In 2014, the Brennan Center for Justice documented that at least 43 states authorize charging incarcerated people for the cost of their own imprisonment, and at least 35 states authorize charging them for some medical expenses. More recent research from the Prison Policy Institute found that 40 states and the federal prison system charge incarcerated people medical copays.

It’s also critical to understand how little incarcerated people are paid for their labor in addition to the significant cut of their paltry hourly wages that corrections agencies take from their earnings. Nearly two-thirds (65 percent) of incarcerated people work behind bars. According to the Prison Policy Initiative, those who work regular jobs in prisons such as maintaining the grounds, working in the kitchen, and painting the walls of the facilities earn on average between $0.14 and $0.63 an hour. [...] Arkansas and Texas don’t pay incarcerated workers at all, while Alabama only pays incarcerated workers employed by the state’s correctional industry. [...]

For example, if someone sends an incarcerated person in Florida $20 online, they will end up paying $24.95. [...]

Dallas County charges incarcerated people a $10 medical care fee for each medical request they submit. In Texas prisons, those behind bars pay $13.55 per medical visit, despite the fact that Texas doesn’t pay incarcerated workers anything. Texas is one of a handful of states that doesn’t pay incarcerated people for their labor.

In Kentucky’s McCracken County Jail in Paducah, it costs $0.40 a minute for a video call; this translates into $8.00 for each 20-minute video call. [...] For those who need to use email, JPay charges $2.35 for five emails for people in the Texas prison system ($0.47 an email). [...]

People in Florida prisons pay $1.70 for a packet of four extra-strength Tylenol and $4.02 for four tampons. And with inflation, commissary items are priced higher than ever. For example, according to the Kentucky Center for Investigative Reporting, incarcerated people in Kentucky experienced a 7.2 percent rise in already-high commissary prices in July 2022. Researchers noted that a 4.6-ounce tube of Crest toothpaste, which costs $1.38 at the local Walmart, is $3.77 at the prison commissary. [...]

In Gaston County, North Carolina, incarcerated individuals who participate in state work release may make more than the state’s $0.38 an hour maximum pay, but they pay the jail a daily rate based on their yearly income of at least $18 per day and up to $36 per day. In fact, Brennan Center research indicates that almost every state takes a portion of the salary that incarcerated workers earn to compensate the corrections agency [...].

These room and board fees are found throughout the nation’s jails and prisons. Michigan laws allow any county to seek reimbursement for expenses incurred in relation to a charge for which a person was sentenced to county jail time -- up to $60 a day. Winnebago County, Wisconsin, charges $26 a day to those staying in its county jail.

---

Text by: Lauren-Brooke Eisen. “America’s Dystopian Incarceration System of Pay to Stay Behind Bars.” Brennan Center for Justice. 19 April 2023. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

#abolition

2K notes · View notes

yandere-wishes · 1 year

Text

Spider Bite Love

Synopsis: Miguel loves you, this you know. But neither the story nor the hero ever stops long enough to wonder if you love him too.

Warnings: Choking, Biting, Reader is from Miles' universe, Miguel is kinda a perfectionist. Yandere themes.

Author's note: Forgive the Spanish it's mostly found on Google. I took like four months of Spanish back in 7th grade and have retained exactly 0.1% of that knowledge.

💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙

The future is porcelain, all marble white and reflective crystal. Flying cars and a horizon that echoes soft tamed pastels. Nueva York can almost be described as beautiful. Almost.

If not for the technicalities and lies and the loss of total freedom.

If not for a fate that's been prewritten. Repeated across centuries and dimensions. So uncontrollable that it practically cultivates inferiority within your heart. An age-old tradition found in every child's tale about dashing heroes and harrowing villains.

If not for the looming uncomfortable, presence known as Miguel O'Hara who refuses to leave you alone.

Your lover.

Your hero.

Your Spider-man

Although he's not your Spider-Man. Not really. And you're not the love of his life. Not really. You're both just Look-alikes, cheap replicas from a corner dimension.

It's difficult to comprehend, pondering it encompasses you with an unruly headache. Galling and overpowering, not unlike your so-called "Lover".

To put it simply or rather to oversimplify. You are not meant to be here. You are from Earth-1610, at least you think you are. It's hard to tell since apparently from what you've gathered there was another (y/n). One who looked just like you, acted just like you, and was essentially you in every microscopic aspect. At least that's what Miguel says, and you've come to learn that he's not awfully good at telling the full truth.

She died or was killed. As is customary with every hero's first crush. Thus leaving Miguel without a lover or a prisoner. Depending on which iteration of the story you fancy.

Then Miles came along disrupting the canon and causing a dimension's wide spider hunt, with Miguel leading the charge. Somewhere along the lines, between chasing down Miles and barking orders at the other Superheroes his secret society was made of. He passes by your window. Caught a rogue glimpse and froze. He'd found you again, after all these years of believing that you were dead. Technically you were dead, his (y/n) was dead. But there was one here, another one, just as radiant and beautiful as his original lover had been. Miguel knew he had to have you. To take you back to his dimension. To complete his Canon.

Your dimension was doomed anyway.

So he wasn't really doing any harm.

You shuffle uncomfortably on the couch, attempting to readjust your position as to better gaze out the window at the porcelain city.

It's almost homogeneous to Miguel himself.

A perfect city with no room for cracks or mistakes.

A perfect hero who flawlessly preserves the multiverse.

They're both perfect you think as you steal your gaze from the skyline. Although sometimes perfect and pristine aren't always reflective of a person's inner workings. Miguel isn't exactly corrupted but he's far from innocent either. You - and the motley amount of fang marks spread across your body- are living proof of that.

His apartment is clean, spotless, all ceramic tiles and snowy furniture.

No room for faults or fallacy. His whole life is meant to be errorless. Just like the delicate spider-verse, he's all so keen on protecting.

The door chimes, a light buzz and a thud. It's hard to remember that this is technically the future. That trivial things such as keys and locks have long since been eradicated.

Miguel steps in, a bouquet of red and yellow roses grasped within his hand. He walks in as the door buzzes closed behind him. There's a docile look in his eyes as he spots you sitting on the couch. A repeated memory you realize and you wonder if his (y/n) use to wait for him to get back from Spider HQ, all patient and passive like a pretty doll awaiting her master.

"Para vos, mi querida" he mumbles, somehow apathetic and bashful all at the same time.

You reach for the flowers a practiced smile bearly tugging at your lips, your fingers curling around the bouquet, then you freeze eyes going wide.

There's blood on his claws again, pristine rudy red that drips to an invisible tempo. You wonder who he's killed this time. A canon divergent Spider-Man or Spider-Women. A villain running amuck across the city.

Or some regular civilian he was supposed to protect. A regular civilian who had some interaction with you on one of the rare times Miguel actually agreed to take you out. You wonder but you don't date ask.

His suit is unscratched -as it always is- His face is bruise-less, so it makes you think that your final hypothesis may just be the accurate one. Miguel's eyes narrow when notices your frozen hand.

"What's wrong," he asks a gruff edge in his voice, a warning.

One your mind begs you to obey.

"Who did you kill?" You ask eyes concentrated on the sharp blue razors that make him look more monster than superhero. Your fingers abandon the bouquet's base and return to your side. You try to force your eyes into a glare despite the unruly beating of your fearful heart.

One look from Miguel snuffs all that resistance out. One dark glare from eyes that can't choose if they wish to be red or blue. Human or hero. Human or monster. And you're back to cowering into the couch cushions.

"It doesn't matter" he all but barks, a supernatural chill encompasses the room. As he throws the bouquet down onto the ceramic floor. His lips pull back in a snarl, showcasing milky white fangs that gleam in the low lights.

"It does matter Miguel!" Your voice is raising, itching to scream to yell. To make him understand a fraction of your hatred

"You're supposed to be a hero, a savior, but all you ever do is act like a villain. You stole me from my home, you killed my universe's Spider-man, you destroyed my dimension! You're nothing more than a villain wearing a hero's mask."

There's a punchline to this, you're almost sure of it. Some storybook explanation as to why you decided to lash out at the most terrifying creature you've ever met. Maybe in the heat of the frigid moment, you forgot that he's no mere spider. He's a tarantula, bloodthirsty and savage, ready to attack when someone goes poking at him with a stick.

Miguel's fingers tighten around your throat, sharp claws digging into soft skin and delicate muscles. Pushing you further into the couch. Miguel's ears ring with the symphony of your gagging as he tightens his grasp. He thinks you're choking, suffocating, asphyxiating.

Good. With any luck, you'll be dead soon.

"Mocosa ingrata"

He's not sure if your death will be significant in any way. You're honestly too trivial to have any impact on things. If you hold a place in the canon of his timeline or yours, he's yet to find it.

Miguel hates oddities, things that disrupt the canon, selfish missteps that destroy entire dimensions. You're not quite an oddity per se, although everything in your timeline is broken. Dangling from a loose threat at the edge of a cliff. All because Miles Morales decided to be selfish and greedy and "change" what's been canon for longer than any "Spider-man" has been alive. Miles is a mistake. that whole universe is a mistake. It's bound to collapse on itself at any moment. So for the life of him, Miguel can't understand why you're so ungrateful. So desperate to reprimand him and belittle him when all he's doing is trying to save everyone.

He's failed once,

He's failed twice,

He refuses to fail for a third time.

It doesn't matter that you're some helpless civilian who was stuck in the wrong universe at the wrong time. All that matters is that you're (y/n), his (y/n). Every other Spiderman has their Gwen or their MJ. A dutiful lover, to return to when the night ends, when the fighting ends. When the ignorant sun finally decides to reawaken and cast the city in a temporary ray of peacefulness. Someone to love and cherish, to take their minds off of the dread and misery that runs amuck across their lives.

Peter Parker has his Mary Jane.

Miles Morales had his Gwen Stacy.

So why can't Miguel O'Hara have his (Y/n) (L/n)?

When Miguel looks back down at you, he notices your dark eyes. How the life is slowly fading from your body. He relents, pulling you forward and slamming you into the couch one last time before retracting his hand. He sits down next to your coughing body.

"I hate you" you manage to blurt out between desperate heaves. Trying to fill your lungs with as much oxygen as possible. You don't bother looking at him, you know he's mad. He's always mad when you refuse to act like his (y/n). When you poke holes at the perfect illusion he's created.

There's a brief pause. A second of tranquility. Before Miguel grabs your arm and pulls you onto his lap. His mouth parts. Fangs releasing and hovering above your jugular. His fangs pierce your vain, releasing his poison into your bloodstream. It's not lethal, at least not yet. Miguel prefers to think of it as a sedative for when you start to act up.

It soothes you, calms you into remembering your place. Your head lulls to the side, falling on his shoulder as your groggy eyes look up at him with a stare that he can almost trick himself into believing is loving, or some variant of the same emotion.

You're his, he knows that. You have to be. It's all he can tell himself as to stay sane. You'll understand someday. Realize you love him too.

After all every hero needs a lover.

3K notes · View notes

ghostboneswrites2 · 3 months

Text

A Mess || Part 5

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring everything here starting with this series since it was the most popular!

Summary: Grief and a blend of confusing emotions overcomes you. It takes a while but you overcome it, with the help of one of Daryl's signature, oh-so-comforting pep talks (/s). Daryl takes some advice from Carol and executes it poorly, to say the least.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, descriptions of grief / loss, Daryl is kinda dumb

There was a loud ringing in your ears. After everything that had happened -- the fire, the walkers, the agonized screams, the rotting stench -- nothing could have prepared you for those words.

"I killed my best friend for you people."

Shane was indeed a hotheaded ass-wipe. His behavior had only grown more erratic in the last few weeks. But still, those words knocked the breath out of you. It was like Rick's voice reached inside your head and plucked every single thought out of your brain. There wasn't a single one flowing, only the image of Shane's dead body lying in the grass somewhere.

The man who you'd been with since you had just got out of high school. He paid for everything. He clothed you, fed you, held you at night, planted sweet kisses all over you when you were ad at him because he knew you couldn't resist his apologies. Surely that man was dead long before he was killed. The man Rick killed hurt you in more ways than one, both emotionally and physically.

What were you feeling? Why? How were you supposed to cope? You wished Rick would have just lied. A walker got him, maybe even a wild boar. But this? It was too much.

You looked catatonic to everyone around you, sitting in some stone ruins around a campfire. You were off to the side, too far to enjoy the heat of the flame. The cold didn't even seem to phase you. The others were grumbling about whether or not to keep following Rick but you were in another world, another dimension.

You weren't mourning, or maybe you were? Could you even feel anything? You ripped your eyes away from the random stone you had been mindlessly fixated on and looked over the remaining survivors from the farm. Most of them just looked bewildered and traumatized. Daryl was sitting by Carol talking about something, though he'd sneak a glance your way every now and then. Lori was cradling Carl. She didn't take the news so well either, though it seemed to be for different reasons.

You took in a deep breath, the kind that filled your lungs so much it hurt, and pushed it back out. You couldn't feel anything inside. Outside was all a blur. How were you supposed to feel? You life had been uprooted and changed overnight, and somehow this just seemed to do that all over again.

Rick crouched in front of you, gaging your state as he handed you a jacket. "It's getting cold." He told you.

You slowly accepted the jacket and stared him in the eyes. He seemed regretful and angry. You were sure he didn't want to do what he did. Shane had a way of pushing people until they tipped over the edge and shattered on the ground.

"Yeah." You croaked.

"I'm sorry." Rick said. "I didn't want to do it, but he was gonna kill me first."

You gulped. You believed him, but it was hard to talk to him.

"Okay." You nodded. He nodded back and stood up.

You slid the jacket on over your thin tee. It didn't seem to make a difference. Warm or cold, day or night, awake or asleep, the days blended together from that point forward and it all felt the same. You didn't know what to call it. A depression? A loss of direction? A disconnect? Dissociation?

Weeks went by on the road. Most people didn't speak to you, and if they did there was an annoying sympathetic tone behind it. You hated it. You weren't a widow. It was over before it ended.

Then the prison came along. It wasn't so hard to take it for yourselves, though couple of people were lost along the way. When Lori died, Rick checked out. Beth usually took over with Judith. You distanced yourself from the little thing. You were supposed to have one, once upon a time, in another life.

As the days got warmer, you felt more alive. One day in particular you felt a wave of relief was over you. It was refreshing, even if you couldn't pinpoint the source. You got out of bed that day and went straight out to the courtyard. There, when you found a corner to yourself where nobody could bother you, you laid flat out on the grass and stared up at the sky. Thin, wispy clouds fluttered over an otherwise clear blue canvas. The grass smelled sweat, even if it was itchy underneath you. Occasionally you'd see a little bug speed over or a bird flapping up high. Somehow things felt peaceful, a much needed juxtaposition to the previously dreary days and nights painted in gray.

"Hey." That familiar rasp sounded from above your head. You looked upward, Daryl's figure towering over you.

"Hey." You said. Your voice sounded sweet and calm, though still a bit melancholy. It was better, to him, than the empty monotone way you had been speaking, when you did speak.

"'M goin' on a run. Comin'?"

"Okay." Was all you said. You pushed yourself up off the ground and onto your feet. He handed you a bag with some basic supplies for a day trip. When you had the straps secured over your shouldered he offered you a knife and a gun and led you to the gates.

Carl, the now motherless child, pulled the gates open and shut them behind you both. He took you in a car to the nearest town, pulling straight up to a small store. He turned off the car but he didn't get out. Instead he looked you over, chewing at his cheeks as he sifted through the sea of thoughts in his head to find the right words.

"Y'alright?" He finally asked. He hadn't spoken to you much since the farm fell. He thought you'd need space to grieve and process, and you did, but he also just didn't know how to be there for you in a time like that. He was too checked out himself.

"I'm alive." You shrugged, eyes fixated on the dash. It seemed to become a habit nowadays, never really focusing on one thing or another. Your stare was always blank and it never focused on anything or anyone, just whatever blank space was between them and you.

"That ain't what I mean."

"What do you want me to say? I'm here. I'm fine." You insisted.

"No ya ain't"

You pressed your lips together and nodded.

"I don't know." You answered truthfully. "Feels wrong to be sad and it feels wrong to move on."

"Yeah." He nodded. "It ain't wrong to do neither."

"I just don't know what to do with myself." You mumbled. "I try to make myself useful but Rick can barely look me in the eyes to give me a job on any given day. Everyone else looks at me like an injured puppy."

"They don't know what to say. That's all." He assured you.

"Well neither the fuck do I."

"Ya just can't let yourself die with him." He said. "It's okay that ya loved him. It's okay that ya hated him too."

----

Another sleepless night tormented you. Instead of flopping around in bed and probably keeping the surrounding cell dwellers awake all night you decided to go walk around the courtyard. It had to be better than the alternative, right?

The stars were so bright nowadays. You spent a lot of nights staring up at them with wonder. One of the few things that were actually better after the end of the world.

"Need a smoke?" Daryl offered. You jumped. You didn't even hear him walk up. Good thing he wasn't a walker or you'd be done for.

"Not a smoker." You declined.

"Me neither." He said sarcastically as he lit his own. You huffed a little laugh and shook your head, looking back up to the stars.

"The little dipper's out tonight." You said.

"What about the big one?"

"I dunno." You shrugged. "I'm sure it's up there somewhere."

"How do you even find shit like that? Just looks like a bunch o' holes poked in a box."

"It's the only one I know." You admitted. "For all I know, that's the big one and I've never seen the little one."

"Waste o' time." He said.

"Stars are pretty. So are clouds."

"Clouds?" He tilted his head.

"Yeah. You know, like when the sun starts to set and they turn pink and orange? It looks like a painting. Life imitates art, and all."

"Thought that was the other way around." He commented. You shrugged.

"All about perspective, I suppose."

"Nah, it ain't. Life just is what it is." He shook his head. "Can't get caught up with philosophy and lookin' for a deeper meanin'."

"Actualism is no fun, Daryl. Humor me." You rolled your eyes.

"Alright." He nodded. "What about the walkers?""

"What about them?"

"Life imitates art. What the hell are them things imitatin'?"

"That's death." You corrected. "Death imitating life."

"Right." He scoffed, flicking the ash of his cigarette as he took another drag. You sighed.

"I'm not saying everything happens for a reason, or that terrible things have some kind of deeper reason or symbolism." You shook your head. "I just don't see the problem with searching for the beauty in the little things."

"Everything ain't beautiful." He said.

"No, everything isn't. But some things are. Like Beth's voice and her blonde hair, or the bright green leaves in the trees, or the way the vines grow over old houses, or the way Maggie's face lights up when she sees Glenn, or..." You thought for a moment. "Or even you, Daryl."

He pushed his eyebrows together and chuckled.

"Now you're just talkin' out your ass."

"No." You shook your head. "You have pretty eyes."

"You hittin' on me, girl?"

"I'm not not hitting on you."

"I ain't rebound dick, remember?"

"I'm a widow now, asshole. You don't rebound from that. You just move on."

"So, that's what I am? Your next move?" He asked.

"No. Don't be so black-and-white. I just like you. That's all. You're not a rebound or the next square on a checker board. Plus, that'd be too easy. I play chess. Not checkers." You winked as you took his cigarette and stole the last drag before tossing the butt away.

"Those things'll kill ya." He glared.

"So will the sun in large doses." You reasoned.

"Yeah, you ain't gotta worry 'bout that. You see less sun than my bare ass." He teased.

"And your neck's redder than my blood, bow-boy." You retorted.

"It's bowman." He corrected.

"Tomato, to-mah-to." You waved him off.

"You got a real slick mouth, ya know that?"

----

The next morning was especially sweltering. Not a cloud in the sky, only a blazing yellow sphere and the ring of cicadas.

"So, how's (Y/N)?" Carol asked Daryl as they walked the perimeter of the fences. "I saw you two talking last night." Daryl gave her a questioning look. "I was on watch." She clarified. He nodded.

"She'll be alright."

"Losin' a husband's hard." Carol sympathized. "Even when they didn't deserve you."

"You think you could move on from Ed?" He asked.

"I don't know." She pondered. "I mean, eventually I guess. Can't picture myself getting that attached so easily. Not with things how they are."

"Mm." Daryl hummed thoughtfully.

"Why? She got her eyes on someone?" Carol pressed.

"Nah." He shook his head, then he shrugged. "I mean, maybe. I dunno."

"Well what did she say?"

"Just that... It's stupid."

"Tell me." She chuckled, pushing her shoulder into his arm playfully.

"She... said I got pretty eyes."

Carol raised her eyebrows.

"And what did you say?"

"Wha'd'ya mean?"

"I mean what did you say to that?"

"Asked her if she was hittin' on me." He said. She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, laughing under her breath. "What?" He asked.

"Come on. You can't be that clueless. You really have no game?" She chuckled.

"Don't need no game." He said. "She don't want that. She's just workin' through shit."

"You're a lost cause." She laughed. "Please tell me you at least said something nice."

Daryl was silent. Had he said anything nice? Sure he did. He was always nice to you, at least most of the time.

"Jesus." Carol sighed. "Good luck."

With that, she patted him on the shoulder and walked away. He leaned on the interior fence and watched her go. As he looked around the courtyard her noticed you working on the exterior fence, stabbing walkers with a broken rake handle.

With little extra thought, he strode over to the first gate and walked between the fences to where you worked.

"Hey." He said. You paused and wiped the sweat from your forehead, squinting in the bright sunlight.

"Hey." You said breathlessly. "What's up?"

"Nothin'." He shrugged. He swayed his weight from one foot to the other anxiously. What had he come over to say? Right, something nice. He looked around for some sort of inspiration. "I, uh, like your...."

You gave him some time to spit it out but he ultimately choked up. You raised your eyebrows. "My..?"

"Your, uh... your shoes."

He wanted to crawl into a hole. Shoes? Really? He was never taking Carol's advice again.

You glanced down at your dirty boots. They were caked in mud and gore and God knows what else.

"My shoes." You repeated slowly. "Thanks?"

"Uh-huh." He gulped with a little nod. "I gotta.." He trailed off, pointing back to the prison as if referring to some imaginary duty he needed to fulfill. You narrowed your eyes a little as he turned around and stalked away with haste. You shook your head and went back to impaling skulls. You had no idea what that was about, nor did you intend on trying to decipher it at that moment.

Masterlist || Taglist

#18+ content #mdni #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl x y/n #daryl x reader #daryl x you #daryl x female reader

147 notes · View notes

s0fti3w1tch · 1 year

Text

Listen, there's no way the other turtles can't carry Raph

Maybe it'll take some effort, but Mikey threw a whole damn building at the Kraang. Donnie frisbee'd an entire weight plate from a barbell one-handed and at least half of the stuff in his lab be that light. Leo got his shit absolutely rocked in the Prison Dimension by what at least has to be hundreds of pounds of metal and he didn't die.

They were made to be weapons of war against an entire species. So yeah, Raph may be the biggest an the physically strongest, but his little bros are still hella strong once you step back.

They can carry Raph witn relative ease.

#regular buwan blog #rottmnt thoughts again #rottmnt headcanons #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #based off the fact that I can carry my big sis #when my leg isn't wiggly #;P

1K notes · View notes

honeybeedrabble · 8 months

Text

Kinktober Day 7- Stuck in a wall: Obito x AFAB!Reader

CW: Obito x AFAB!reader, improper use of kamui, spanking, choking, slight degradation, hinted overstimulation, unprotected piv (don’t be stupid), cream pie (don’t be stupid) p*rn with no plot, lmk what i missed

18+ MDNI

You were trapped in his kamui, well… at least half of you was.

“Ngh- fuck, right there!” You whimpered, your voice falling on deaf ears as you spoke into the void that was Obitos escapist reality. You felt a presence behind you, his portal to his dimension opening up so he could hear your pretty moans.

“Shoulda done this a long time ago… I can fuck you while I’m here and if anyone tries to hurt you i can just kamui your pretty ass outta here.” He gave your ass a smack and you tried reaching out for the white marble that was the flooring of Obitos kamui realm. It was weird, looking and touching the white blocks for support in some fucked up prison that was in his mind, while your feet were planted firmly in the grass back on earth. Never the less, the fucking you got was proper and the reality of it happening in two places at the same time was utterly erotic.

“Mmm… fuck, you’re practically dripping down my leg baby,” he hummed, rutting into you. You clawed the matte, white pillar, nails dragging back down to your sides due to the hardness of the rock.

“O-obito… keep going. I’m so close…” you whimpered.

Obito gripped your waist hard, his cock hitting just the right spots while his other hand reached into the kamui circle and gripped your throat. You gasped, airways blocked as you sputtered into the abyss. Your face felt hot, your legs weak, and your cunt pained in only the best way.

“Fuck yeah, take it. take it just like that. The things I’d do to see that pretty little fucked out face of yours right now.” He muttered, hips stuttering as his cock bulged in your stomach. You reached a hand down to feel his outline and he grunted.

“Yeah… Yeah, you feel that?” He smirked, picking up his pace and choking you out even harsher. You tried speaking but his grip on your throat has you only letting out broken moans as your slickened walls clamped down tight on his shaft. He laughed.

“I can’t hear you,” he teased, smacking your asscheek. He loosened his grip and you gasped for air, shaking in his portal. “Such a dirty girl, y’know? Begging me to fuck you in not one realm but two? I should’ve known you were gonna be trouble.”

He pounds into you as far as he can until he’s balls deep with each thrust, his balls slapping against your clit each time you two fully connect. He has a sadistic smile across his face as he watches your legs give out, held upright by the portal. He thrusts into you one last time before he cums deep inside of you with a groan that came booming from his chest. You clench around him, drooling all over the white platform and moaning into the endless abyss.

“Fuck…” he hissed, pulling his hard cock out of you and watching your shared cum dribble out of your poor hole and onto the backs on your thighs. He pulled you out of the kamui, your back flush to his chest.

“Look at the mess you made, it’s a good thing it was out here and not in there. I’d have a lot of explaining to do next time I throw someone in there.”

tag list: @fuckmachine42069 @pasdasin @alien-girl-violet

Next: Day eight: Master and Slave - Kars x Reader

#smut #naruto #naruto smut #naruto fic #naruto obito #obito uchiha #obito x you #obito x reader #obito x y/n #obito smut #obito uchiha smut #obito fic #kinktober #shaggys bitches kinktober #kinktober 2023

235 notes · View notes

theres-a-body-here · 7 months

Text

Darling~

Miguel O'Hara x Male!reader

Part 1 | Part 2 |

It was utter mayhem inside the Spider-HQ.

One of the criminals being held in the lower prison block had escaped and gained access to the central interface and modified it.

Portals from across countless dimensions opened, allowing villains to enter into the headquarters.

Some Spiders fought single opponents while others faced multiple versions of the same villain. The air was thick with tension as each hero tried desperately to save themselves and their comrades from the assault.

————

Miguel O'Hara stood tall like a lone wolf amidst a pack of ravenous predators. All communications within the building were being scrambled. He couldn't reach the others or Lyla.

With a defiant cry echoing through the corridors, he launched himself forward, using his enhanced agility to evade the clutches of several Scorpion variants.

Miguel was pissed to say the least, but he focuses that rage into determination as he traded blows with the criminals.

Once the last of them were knocked out cold, Miguel began to web sling towards the Go Home Machine to try and fix this mess.

However, as his adrenaline began to subside, Miguel felt a sharp pain in his right calf. He glanced down to see a large cut which was pulsating green.

One of the Scorpions must have got him during the fight, unnoticed by him. He cursed under his breath as he began to feel a burning throughout his body.

Miguel felt his grip on his web falter as he stopped swinging to plant his feet on solid ground. But the effects seemed to worsen as he fell into his knees, vision blurring.

Before Miguel could think of what to do next, he felt a brutal blow to his head as he was kicked a few feet away.

He let out a cry of pain as he cocked his head to see Tombstone, or at least a tombstone. Miguel tried to stand up, only to fall back down.

"Looky here," Alonzo sneered sarcastically. "Shit, I'm sure my alternate wouldn't mind if I squashed his problem for him. I know I sure as hell wouldn't."

Tombstone delivered another kick onto Miguel, this time aiming at his ribs. Miguel heard a crack as his world began to spin.

Once he refocused his sight, Miguel was on his back as Alonzo straddled him, wrapping his cold hands around his neck. Miguel tried his best to free himself, but the poison and Tombstone's vice-like strength was making it hard for him to even think.

As Miguel's vision began to blacken, he heard Tombstone laugh at him. "if you're anything like my Spider-Man, this is gonna be so very satisf-,"

Tombstone's words were cut shot as a black spike pierced through his chest. Miguel winced as Alonzo coughed out blood onto his mask.

The black spike seemingly liquified to wrap around Tombstone's chest like a tendril. And before he could react, it swung him into the ceiling with a sickening crack.

Miguel felt the cold air rush into his lungs as he began to cough and breathe heavily. He rubbed his throat as he watched Tombstone's body being slammed into the ground with such force that his head popped like a watermelon.

The black tendril retreated back to its user, slinking away under their clothes like a hidden blade.

Miguel felt his blood run cold at the sight of you. He weakly attempted to crawl away but his legs and arms wouldn't listen to his brain.

You watched Miguel writhe around in an attempt to escape with a faint frown. You were so certain he'd be grateful. You let out a sigh. Beggars can't be choosers. This sentimental moment was too golden for you to ruin it over something so small.

Your soft voice broke the silence. "Spider...," you seemed to rethink your words as you glance down at the lower levels, witnessing the other Spider-Men fighting villains.

"Our Spider-Man," you spoke in a whisper as your lips curled into a smile.

"Venom," Miguel snarled back.

#miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #male!reader #yandere!reader #venom!reader #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #itsv x reader #male reader #villain!reader #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #spiderman #spiderman x reader

219 notes · View notes

percyaugod · 18 days

Text

Unnamed Rise AU Part 2: Eternal Prison

Edit: It has now been named The Prisoner and the Pretender AU. : D

Leo was bored asking how long has he been stuck there anyway. The technodrome says forty-three seconds. Leo is unamused and gives a flat "Ha Ha. No really."

The technodrome doesn't say anything and Leo is left reeling. "What, how!?"

"Time dilation. Time moves faster here than back in your dimension. If it makes you feel any better you aren't aging. This place was designed to be an eternal prison. Not very eternal if the Krang die of old age."

Leo crossed his arms muttering bitterly about how well that worked out.

The technodrome holds Donnie above all others, and it is partially because of being connected, but it's mostly because Donnie is just Donnie. Donnie is the first to look at the technodrome and see something truly amazing. It holds him in such high regard because he holds it so high. Which is why it doesn't want to disappoint him and lose that.

Not to mention how much of himself he was willing to give to it so it could think for itself for the first time. No more just sitting around waiting for commands. Being used like a tool by those that don't appreciate it, don't deserve it.

Leo keeps the technodrome talking so he can hear his brother's voice, though he'd never admit it to even himself. He's just gathering data, nothing else. Yet he's probably just doing stuff to aggravate the technodrome like messing with the stuff it uses to make nutrients so Leo doesn't wither away.

It tastes awful, he's just trying to make it pizza-flavoured. Or preferably anything other than what he imagines Dad's chair tastes like. He knows chemistry, he can do this!

The technodrome begs to differ. He knows Earth chemistry. These chemicals are literally alien to him.

The technodrome keeps moving so it's harder for Krang One to find them. Which is extra difficult while trying to look like just a piece of nonfunctional rubble floating there.

Leo would definitely try to sneak outside. If nothing else he's bored and wouldn't completely trust the Krang spaceship. He still hasn't decided whether it sounding and acting like Donnie is worse or better. At least it'll be harder to forget the egghead.

The technodrome only lets him out to get supplies because even broken it's still far too big to enter. Supplies are hard to come by though, and who knows how long Leo will be in here until his brothers can save him. It keeps watch of all exits in case he tries something.

Leo is definitely curious about the technodrome, especially its connection to Donnie. How exactly did it get a copy of his brother on its systems, and what is it going to do to the original?

He wouldn't just ask it directly though. Donnie can't lie, but who knows about the technodrome. He asked in roundabout ways about other tech and functions to gather more info before making his way slowly to how piloting it works.

Leo tells stories to the technodrome who listens since at least he isn't trying anything. It's when he tries to exaggerate something and the technodrome corrects him that he realizes the technodrome remembers this stuff too because Donnie remembered it. So now Leo has the technodrome tell him stories to help him remember. It's odd hearing some of the same events but from Donnie's point of view.

Leo has a lot of trouble sleeping, especially in a prison dimension. He says something completely wrong and falls asleep to a "Donnie" rant.

Leo asks the technodrome what it knows about neuroscience since it could help him take care of his brothers in the future as team medic (you can rip medic Leo out of my cold dead hands) and he's pretty sure the ship mentioned tapping into someone's brain or nerves to receive instructions.

He's really going to have to look Donnie over when he gets back because that can't be good.

The technodrome constantly brings up Leo having the portal closed on it. Is this what Draxum feels like dealing with him? Good.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt au #rise leo #rottmnt technodrome #rise donnie #Ish #Unnamed rise au #The prisoner and the pretender AU

58 notes · View notes

gelpensoncomics · 10 months

Text

Guy Gardner: A Study of Heroes and Head Trauma

SO! It's July, which is disability pride month here in the United States where I live! I figured it would be appropriate to kick things off by talking about a character who has a mixed reputation, to say the least: Guy Gardner, Green Lantern. He's been around since the Silver Age of comics, and his characterization has been through some serious ups and downs over the years! But what if I told you that it's not inconsistent writing? What if I told you there is a lens with which to view his shifting behavioral patterns and at times abrasive and offensive personality that makes it all come into focus and make perfect sense, and it's all already there on the page? I'm here to give you that lens, and it's viewing Guy Gardner as a man who has suffered multiple traumatic brain injuries and managed to heal over time. Buckle up, this is probably going to be a long one, and it's pretty image heavy as I try to back up as much as I am claiming that I can.

So the first thing I will start with is establishing Guy's former baseline. This is not the post where I will go incredibly in-depth on Guy's full family history and his education, I'll save that for another time. Here, I simply aim to sum up. Guy Gardner met Hal Jordan for the first time in the 1991 title Green Lantern: Emerald Dawn, a volume that served as an updated backstory for the Silver Age hero after Crisis on Infinite Earths. Hal was in prison to serve a 90 day sentence for drunk driving. Guy Gardner was Hal Jordan's caseworker.

"What? Huh? That's Guy Gardner?" You, the hypothetical reader ask. What happened to him?!

A lot. A lot happened to him, and it took him from a man who gave the advice to "Use your rage! Don't let it use you!" to a man who is known as the rude angry ginger lantern. First off, he got hit by a bus. No, I'm not being metaphorical or making a joke. See, he quit his job as a prison case worker because he didn't like how the job made him feel, especially after he was caught up in a prison riot and threatened with death at the hands of a prisoner there. So he put his second degree to use and he became a teacher. Specifically, he became a physical education teacher for disabled children.And then there was an earthquake, and he was hit by a bus while attempting to rescue one of the students on a field trip he was running, nearly dying in the process.

Now, I will say: he got better. This time. See, no sooner had he recovered from this incident, as he was filling in for Hal as Green Lantern he was exploded in the line of duty and sent to a parallel dimension. In that parallel dimension he was tortured, and Sinestro used a dangerous and severe form of mind control that, when it was finally broken, left Guy... well, the comics call him comatose, but he is conscious, he is just not responsive to the environment around him or able to care for himself.

For years, he remained in this state, with his care at a top-notch hospital paid for by fellow superheros. And then, during the Crisis on Infinite Earths event, a miracle happened. Guy regained consciousness.

But the Guy who came out of that vegetative state wasn't the same man who fell into it. Or at least, not exactly. He was angrier. His fuse was shorter. Perhaps most upsetting of all, one of the first actions he took upon regaining consciousness was attempted grave robbery.

"Gelpens, what the fuck," you ask me. I know. It's a lot. Bear with me here. See, he didn't wake up on his own. The Guardians of Oa woke him up, using their tremendous cosmic powers to attempt to heal his brain damage so they could deploy him to help during the Crisis.

Sure, Guy got his strength back. He was able to function as a Green Lantern. But he still wasn't the same as he was before his coma. He stayed angry, and confrontational, and was frequently known to make inappropriate comments that failed to fit the setting he was in or the bounds of good taste. He had a constant chip on his shoulder, very different from the man who was concerned about controlling his anger so it couldn't use him.

This all came to a head in a series of events that is frankly infamous in comics circles. Almost every fan I know of who knows Guy Gardner knows about the time Batman got fed up with his confrontational rude attitude and laid him out with a single punch to the face.

The thing people don't remember about that punch is that, seeing as it was the 90s, and comics writers had learned a few things about the brain, they decided to use it to make... let's call it a running joke. See, after Guy regained consciousness, he was much more like the guy he was before all that head trauma. He was polite, cared about being a team player and not trying to prove himself, he didn't go for lethal force!

Of course, this didn't last. No, the whole 'joke' here was that Batman punched him hard enough to rattle his brain, and he would occasionally jump from being a sweet, friendly team player to, in the words of the narration box the first time he got hit on the head again, his new old "thoroughly rotten" self (I know). Slowly but surely though, Guy did get better, and start to stay better. His mood stabilized, he gained more self-control, he started making better plans and he was much less angry as a default. And it's kept going! This train keeps chugging along! He isn't so angry anymore! He has it under control!

And honestly? This moment, right here? This is the crowning jewel in my thesis, I think.

Guy has a Red Lantern ring and a Star Sapphire ring. For those of you less familiar with the extended Green Lantern lore, the Red Lanterns run off rage. The Star Sapphires are powered by love. Outside of willpower, the emotions that are the most powerful within him are his rage and anger, and his love for his friends. And what does he fuel them with, when it comes down to the wire? When willpower alone isn't enough? The thing he hates most is being filled with rage. The thing he loves the most is his friends.

So. I don't think Guy was ever just an angry, sexist, rude asshole at his core. Is he the same as he was before the injury, before all that happened to him? Of course not. Nobody goes through life completely unchanged by what happens to them.

I think he injured his brain and lost his ability to regulate his emotions and impulses for a while. The road to recovery was far from smooth. It just took him some time to heal and be in a place to act like the man he wanted to be all along. But in my opinion? I think he's there now.

#guy gardner #dc comics #green lantern #disability #dc #gl #meta

214 notes · View notes

syn4k · 7 months

Text

One busy evening at Sanctuary's Tavern, one of the rare ones where Pix was able to visit, Sausage was waiting a bar where some of his fellow emperors sat, all chattering amongst themselves and most listening intently to his tale of how he saved Sanctuary from himself. (Technically, he was right! It was just a couple timelines away, and he still counted it as being him.)

"And then Hermes- well, you already know what Hermes did," he concluded cheerfully, polishing a glass. "He did so well!"

"He really did," Joel agreed with a nod. He'd been wrangled into some casual clothes and a much less conspicuous height of 6'0 for the purposes of this evening, reaching the same height as Pixl as he sat on a bar stool. "Cheers to my boy!"

"Cheers!" repeated the rest of the table, raising their glasses in celebration. Jimmy downed his entire glass of tequila, coughing a little, and pushed it towards Sausage for a refill, who frowned.

"Now, Jimmy," he started, "I'm sorry, but you're not allowed to have any more this evening."

"Aw, come on," protested Jimmy, who was a notable lightweight and had downed 4 glasses of alcohol before this one.

"You know how you get when you've had too much to drink," said Sausage patiently but firmly.

"I do not, actually, thank you very much!" said Jimmy, crossing his arms with his face flushed. Fwhip, who had once gotten into a vicious bar fight with the man after too many glasses of his own, just coughed, earning himself a glare from Jimmy and a slight raising of eyebrows from Pixl, who was looking at something that Joel was showing him on his phone.

"Anyways," said Sausage, "you can have water. Just water. As much water as you want!"

Jimmy sulked and looked like he was about to protest, but after a warning elbow jab from Fwhip he shut his mouth.

"That spell you mention using to get out of the prison Bratwurst put you in sounds pretty interesting," said Pixl now, taking a sip of his own drink. "Must be a pretty powerful one if it can break restrictions that strong."

"Mhm," said Sausage, turning around to get some more ingredients for a drink that another patron had called for. "Very old, very dangerous, but the only one that would work in this situation."

"I guess you're not gonna tell us how to do it, then, will you?" asked Joel lightly.

Sausage shook his head. "Oh, no," he said, quite cheerfully. "You'd get vaporized in at least five planes, seven dimensions, and three timeliness. That's if you just pronounce a word wrong!"

"Oh," said Jimmy. The table was silent for a bit before he spoke up again. "Does the recipe include like, end crystals or something?"

"Nope," said Sausage. "Just some simple stuff like a piece of paper, a compass, some candles..."

"Ooh, candles," said Joel, taking another sip of his drink. "Did you trade them from Gem or something?"

"Nope," said Sausage airily, walking across the bar to hand the glass to the patron. Returning, he explained, "They were just lying about in some random universe when I found them and used them for the spell. Don't worry, I only took like, sixteen. That was all I needed."

"Weirdly specific, but okay," said Fwhip with a shrug. "Pix, you good over there?"

Sausage turned around to see Pixl looking slightly scandalized at his description of his actions. He shook his head with a silent sigh, waving it off with one hand. "Yeah, yeah, no. I'm sure it was for a good cause."

"Saving the entire world!" interjected Sausage brightly.

"Exactly," said Pixl, not sounding like he was done. Fwhip hid a grin behind one hand. "However,"

"Shot yourself in the foot, mate," said Jimmy.

"-however," repeated Pixl, shooting him a look, "as the local archaeologist, I cannot endorse those kinds of actions." He took a sip of his drink as Sausage stood there slightly awkwardly, looking to one side for anyone who might need anything as an easy way out. "But that's just me being an arse about it." He shrugged. "There was nobody there to ask anyways."

In Sausage's head ever since he'd merged himself with the other timelines' versions of him, he occasionally got vague senses or flashes of feelings in the back of his mind from those other versions, who were vaguely picking up on what he was experiencing. Sometime these were some instructions for a spell, or his hands being taken over for a brief moment to perform an action that had been muscle memory for him in another timeline (or so he assumed), but at their simplest they were flashes of memories or emotions as this one was.

Somewhere, it seemed, Bratwurst himself had perked up at the mention of his name, recognized Pixl's voice, and had frantically started sending the mental equivalent of "cut it out" hand motions to Sausage... but why?

"Be right back," said Sausage, hopping over the counter with a grin. "Duty calls." The groans that followed him as he found his way to the bathroom and locked the door behind him told him that he'd distracted his guests, at least for the moment, and he sat down on the toilet seat with a sigh, placing his head in his hands. What is it? he asked into the void.

An image of a sandstone pillar in the vague shape of a candle with a conduit floating above appeared in his mind's eye, and he nodded in recognition. That's the Vigil, he said. I know it. But what's the problem?

You took candles from the Vigil? asked Bratwurst with a tone that Sausage had not heard from him before. And not from the candle shop nearby?

I had to be quick, protested Sausage. They were right there and I didn't even know where the shop was!

A general grumbling filled his mind, and he hurriedly shushed them. Guys, he said desperately. I only took the ones that I needed.

Dios mío, someone sighed.

I need to get back there! Sausage said. Please just tell me what the big deal is!

You, said Bratwurst slowly and with utter seriousness, do not mess with the Vigil. A shiver ran down Sausage's spine, but he stubbornly pushed it off. It'll be fine, he reassured. He doesn't remember.

The copper king remembers everything, said Bratwurst, and an image of a man who looked startlingly like Pixl but wearing a sand-covered cloak embossed with copper-colored threads and with a fiercer sort of aura about him popped into his brain. Sausage knew somehow- he didn't dare press- that this Pixl had killed Bratwurst, and in cold blood as well, and he shivered, but again pushed the sensation aside and kept firm. Different timeline, he said. I'll be fine.

You're taking too long, another voice warned, and with a silent sigh Sausage removed his face from his hands, shook his head to get himself back to reality, and walked back to the bar.

"Welcome back," said Joel as Sausage reentered the counter area, using the proper gate this time. "Congratulations on not falling in."

Sausage just chuckled as Fwhip punched Joel on the shoulder. "I try my best," he said.

Pix caught his eye and gestured him over, and suddenly Sausage's chest felt uncomfortably tight with anxiety. Stop it, he ordered. I know this guy. We're fine.

"I just wanted to say sorry about earlier," said Pixl in a low voice that the others couldn't hear. "I didn't mean to upset you. I know you were completely justified by doing that, it's just a bit of a close subject for me." He sighed. "Still, that was entirely unprovoked. Eddie got me a glass of water after I asked."

Sausage relaxed, though adrenaline was still racing through his blood at the serious, intent stare he was getting. "You're okay," he lied. "You didn't upset me at all. It was just bad timing, that's it."

Pix looked at him for a little longer. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Sausage froze. "Well," he started before getting hit with a jolt of sheer fear so strong that he ran to backtrack instantly. "No, actually. Thank you, though!" He stood up and turned back to the bar shelves, pulse racing. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. He'd responded too fast. He'd stood up too fast. Pixl could absolutely tell, and so could everyone else. He was going to kill-

With an effort, Sausage slammed a wall down between him and the rest of his brain so hard that his head throbbed a little with the force of it.

"Is there anyone here who can maybe carry Jimmy out of here?" asked Fwhip, tilting his head toward the man in question, who had his head resting on his folded arms.

"Me and Joel and Eddie can handle it just fine," Sausage said confidently. "Jimmy's not very heavy."

"I could probably lift him myself," declared Joel.

"Oh, dear," said Sausage, determinedly not looking anywhere near Pixl and watching a relatively large group of very rowdy youths walk in instead. "Un momento, por favor."

Thankfully, it didn't take him and Eddie too long to redirect them out into the street and to a local inn, which, given the state that the group was in, Sausage was sure that money wouldn't be a problem for them. He dusted his hands off as Eddie walked back inside into the loud laughter and light of the tavern, turned around, and startled as Pixl was leaning right next to one of the doors, arms crossed. Sausage was glad he couldn't see his expression.

"Hi," he said, unable to keep the nervousness out of his voice. "Is this about-"

"The candles, yes," said Pixl, not sounding at all tipsy or drunk, which was a good thing, Sausage guessed. "Could you please tell me where exactly you got them?"

Sausage swallowed nervously. "Exactly, or...?"

"Exactly," repeated Pixl.

Shit.

Sausage looked him over quickly. No weapons were allowed at the tavern, and he didn't see anything lying nearby, but Pix was incredibly resourceful when it came to PvE, and he did not doubt for a second that he'd be just as good when fighting another person. An image popped into his mind then of that other Pix in a strange arena surrounded by wither roses, moving fluidly around the obstacles despite being blinded, and taking terrifyingly accurate swings at the enemies coming towards him-

Pix sighed. "I won't press it," he said, standing up and walking back towards the door. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's going on, but I didn't mean to ruin your evening." He paused at the door as Sausage inhaled.

"How," he asked, "did you know about the candles?"

Pix understood the question despite its vagueness. "Something I've been researching for years," he said, voice dropping. "An ancient kingdom called Pixandria. They- a large part of their holy rituals included candles. Sausage."

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

"Sausage," Pix repeated again, sounding more concerned this time.

"Okay, I took them," said Sausage quickly, stepping backwards. "But only sixteen. I didn't know about the candle shop or the bee farm or anything, I was going for speed. If I had known-" He paused, trying to slow down a little. "I'm sorry," he finished, breathlessly. "Please don't do anything. It was a mistake. I didn't mean anything by it."

In the moonlight, he could see Pix still standing there by the door, hesitating. It opened and Pix stepped backwards, the light casting his face in a golden glow, and Sausage stepped backwards to make way for the people who were leaving.

"You did what?" asked Pixl in disbelief, and Sausage felt his whole body tense up in preparation of a fight, to run, anything. He fucked up. He was absolutely about to die and it was his fault. He stepped backwards as Pixl stepped forwards, then quicker as Pix broke into a half jog to reach him-

"Hey," said Pix as he grabbed Sausage's shoulders with iron strength. "Sausage. Look at me. Look at me."

Sausage took a deep breath and looked up, fully expecting Pixl's face to be a mask of perfect fury, his eyes glinting behind those rectangular glasses, but instead, Pix just looked slightly confused and... worried?

"I was just going to ask if you wanted to take a break," he said, and in his voice Sausage heard a desperation that he had never heard from him before. No, he had. In another life, he had. The voice of a man who had unknowingly caused the unleashing of an ancient evil and exiled himself shortly after, and once after that again for good. The voice of someone that Bratwurst had once celebrated when he learned that he was gone.

The voice of a friend.

"I didn't mean to overwhelm you," said Pixl, more gently now, stepping back and looking uncharacteristically anxious. "I was just caught off guard. I'm sorry. This whole evening- I've ruined it, haven't I?"

No, Sausage wanted to say, it's me, you've done nothing, but his tongue stayed dumb in his mouth as Pixl continued.

"I can go tell Eddie that you've turned in early because you got overwhelmed," he said. "I'll tell the same to everyone else. I just-" He paused, and even in the dim moonlight Sausage could tell by the shadows cast on his face that he was fighting to explain something that he just couldn't put into words. Sausage stepped forwards tentatively, and Pix glanced back up.

"I think," Sausage said, voice growing stronger as he continued, "that we're both dealing with stuff that's too complicated to be explained while standing outside on a dark street. I got spooked, but," he sighed, "please- just don't take all of the blame on yourself, okay?" He paused. "People mess up sometimes. Doesn't mean you have to forgive me. I'm just saying that you're okay."

Pixl nodded. "I wasn't even mad," he said. "Just startled. I think- I think that maybe a wire got crossed somewhere."

In Sausage's head, Bratwurst snorted. That's definitely one way to put it.

Sausage ignored him, holding out a hand. "So... we're good?"

Pix nodded, taking his hand, but instead of shaking it, he let go to give Sausage a hug, his forehead pressing on top of his shoulder. Sausage fumbled a little before returning it, his racing mind stopped mid-thought in surprise. In the back of his mind, he heard someone chuckle. I told you he'd forgive you, they said.

Mmmm, responded Bratwurst.

Pix gently backed out of the hug, exhaling. "Yeah," he said, voice sounding much lighter now. "I'd say we're good."

Sausage nodded awkwardly. "So, are you going back in or..?"

"Are you?" asked Pix.

Sausage paused before nodding again.

"Alright," said Pixl, stepping backwards a pace and waiting for Sausage to follow him before turning around and heading back towards the tavern's large double doors. "I know you insisted that we would all get free drinks this evening, but I'm paying for mine-"

"Pix, please," said Sausage. "You really don't have to-"

"-but I'm paying for mine and that's final," Pix interrupted firmly. "If you won't accept it then I'm either handing it to Eddie or breaking into your house when you're out doing something and putting it into wherever you keep your money."

He looked back at Sausage, who understood that he either had to hand over the money or tell Pixl where his safe was, and it wasn't that he didn't trust Pix inside his house, but he didn't want any more trouble over this. "Okay."

"Thought so," said Pixl with a nod, opening the door and holding it for him.

"However," Sausage said as soon as the door closed shut behind the two of them, loudly in order to be heard over the resounding din, "you get a 50% discount and this is also non-negotiable."

Pixl's face fell a little and Sausage had to laugh. "Non-negotiable!" he crowed as he slipped behind the counter again. "I'm holding you to this, Pix!"

"Did you lose a bet?" asked Fwhip.

"You could say," answered Pix delicately. Joel looked at him questionably, but was silenced by Fwhip shaking his head.

"So," Fwhip said cheerfully and oddly smugly, effortlessly changing the subject. "Centaurs have six legs and are therefore insects. Discuss."

"Oh, you little," said Joel with a growl as everyone within a two meter radius immediately started shouting at Fwhip.

#ray's tag #mcyt #empires smp s2 #empires smp #writing #keys' writing #pixlriffs #mythicalsausage #I am once again thinking of The Character(s).#hgn.#also! plural c!sausage forever and ever #i am correct about this <- plural

127 notes · View notes

imagionationstation · 2 months

Note

so I would like more ideas on the whole “2012 Donnie ends up in prison dimension” au thing.

if you don’t have any it’s completely okay!

just maybe…how are the 2012 turtles (and Splinter) holding up? And how would the 2018 turtles react when 2012 Donnie has to go back home? Does he? Or does he stay? I think it’d be fun if their were two alt endings. One where 2012 Donnie stays in the rise universe and one where he doesn’t. Idk

Srry I’m yappin’ lol

Oh, don’t worry. I’ve been poking at this AU all day.

I have, like, five scenes overlapping each other. Because I’m normal.

*ahem*

“So what if instead of merely erasing him, she decided to put him somewhere that no one could ever reach him? A dimension from where things are known never to return? A place where April could never get him back without her assistance?”

Lil’ miss overpowered demon would have wanted April to know that she shipped Donnie off somewhere instead of outright murder. Then, she could hold it over her head you need me to get him back to prevent her from ever shattering the Crystal. But considering that’s blackmail and April knew that the longer that freak was in her brain, the more likely it was that she’d obliterate New York- well, she was determined to find Donnie back without her help.

And so April assures that brothers that he’s alive. And they immediately begin a search ✨

I’m sure that there would be a lot of tension, fear, and worry, but they KNOW he’s alive out there somewhere, (probably suffering if Za-Naron’s vague taunts were true), so they’re going to get him back, and the sooner the better. *Insert car chase music*

And the best part is that the 2012brothers have never actually been separated for more than a few hours. Like, in any episode.

Imagine days apart not knowing if Donnie is even alive.

At least they have each other. Donnie, on the other hand…

I think how the Risebrothers react to their arrival to bring Donnie home would depend highly on how long Donnie remains with them. However, it’s not through an “we adopted him” standpoint.

Remember, Leon and Donnie were stuck in a crippled dimension for weeks. They were barely surviving, avoiding Krang at every turn, convinced that they’d never see their families again. Leon would have told Donnie about the prison dimension’s purpose and how no one could ever risk coming. How his family had to see to it that no one ever came through for the sake of everyone in his dimension.

They had to live with that knowledge for a time period that probably felt like an eternity.

A seed of doubt was planted and they coped in different ways.

Donnie, keeping them both alive and his flickering hope burning through each passing moment, holds to the stubborn belief that if they wants to make it out, he only needs to, “Try harder.”

And Leon, willing to fight for Donnie but unwilling to surrender to the pipe dream of getting freed, assists the fight with a timid, but unbudging, “It’s not about me.”

Then, when they get out, their perspectives will be entirely different.

Leon will be home, but a part of him, the part that was counting down the minutes ‘till he dies, will still be in the prison dimension.

Donnie will be safe, but everything in him, every minuscule cell in his being that prayed for release, will be yearning for home.

So, we have two options. And no, I do not believe one of them involves him permanently living in the Rise verse. (Many apologies.)

Option one: Angst ending (They find him fast.)

Okay, so, if the 2012brothers were to arrive within days of Donnie getting free, I have no doubt that a desperate Donnie would go home without a second of hesitation and Leon would lose his anchor. He’d be stricken at the thought, aware of how much Donnie needs to leave, crippled under the looming weight of that sacrifice. He only suffered lived so Donnie wouldn’t be alone in that hellhole nightmare, and now Donnie is abandoning him leaving.

He’d be stiff, silent, barely managing a weak “okay” when Donnie shares the news. The conversation distracts anyone from really noticing his state of mind. It’s only once the 2012 gang leave the room that Raphael makes the mistake of touching his shoulder. After they barely calm a flash-back induced panic attack that leaves him wheezing and pale, crying and bleeding on the floor where he’d attempt to flee from them, the Risebrothers decide that they can’t let Donnie walk out. Raphael and Michael are torn, because Donnie needs the familiar sights of home as much as Leon needs Donnie, but Don has no such limitations. I almost want to say the same for Lou. He sacrificed the world for his kids. This is nothing.

As you can imagine, family fights for custody never go well.

Option two: Happy Ending (Finding him takes time)

If the brothers were to arrive several weeks/month or so into the future, long enough for Leon to readjust to society and no longer need Donnie as a reminder that he’s home and not completely delulu in the brain, it would go much smoother. Obviously, Donnie would be more desperate than ever to get home. The kind of desperate that leaves him broken in their arms when they finally appear, promising through sobs that he tried so hard to get back to them he did he swears he never stopped he tried-

And considering the Risebrothers don’t have a single cruel bone in their body, they wouldn’t hesitate to let him go home. He’s welcome any time, of course, and Leo makes him promise to find a way back during one, big goodbye squeeze, but they accept that right now, he needs to go. Donnie kept their brother alive and helped truly bring his scattered brain home. Why shouldn’t they return the favor?

40 notes · View notes

pommigranite · 11 months

Text

guys I wrote a rottmnt movie one shot from Donnie’s pov heheheh it’s under the cut okay enjoy 💜

00:04:28

As long as Donatello could remember, he and Leonardo always had this… connection.

He couldn’t describe it (he had a hard time describing things he couldn’t see), but it was this feeling he and his brother shared, one they didn’t share with Raph or Mikey.

They always knew when something was wrong, when the other was hurt, exactly how the other was feeling.

Donnie remembers a time when they all played hide and seek. Leo was it, and he had decided to hide in a small, enclosed space, thinking he wouldn’t be in there long. He had overestimated Leo’s finding ability, and had begun to panic, hyperventilating and his vision going blurry. But right before he completely lost it, Leo had found him, said he just knew where he was because of how scared Donnie had felt.

That had been the longest 4 minutes and 28 seconds of his life.

It always felt like there was a link, a string connecting the two like a thread. Donnie had noticed that it grew stronger once they unlocked their ninpo.

The connection had always given him comfort, made him feel like no matter what, Leo always understood him. That he was never alone.

… When he felt the connection break, he thought his heart stopped.

He watched as the Kraangs’ ship- the Technodrome- shatter into pieces as the portal closed, locking the Kraang- and his twin- inside for eternity.

He didn’t hear the pieces fall, didn’t hear the sound of April or Splinter crying over the comms, didn’t hear Raph collapse in a heap.

He just stopped, and stared.

His cheek felt wet… he didn’t know why.

Oh.

He was crying.

He felt his chest tighten, everything around him suddenly becoming too loud and too quiet all at the same time. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel.

But he knew he had to calm down.

What did Leo tell him to do?

Right. Count the time.

1… 2… 3… 4…

He sees Raph, on the ground, crying for his little brother.

9… 10… 11… 12…

The pieces of the Technodrome falling around him, narrowly missing him and his brothers.

17… 18… 19… 20…

He keeps counting, he can’t stop counting. Even as Mikey tries, once again, to use his supposed mystic hands, even when Raph says it’s over.

Even when Mikey does open the portal, and he rushes to stand by his little brother’s side, he doesn’t speak, because he has to keep counting.

He sees his brother, floating limply through the prison dimension, Kraang Prime scrambling to grab Leonardo. Rage fills his very being, and as he fires the drill at the Kraang, he screams the numbers in his head.

The portal closes, Raphael holding Leo’s body in his arms. His twin, his brother… his best friend.

“… Ew, are we in Staten Island?”

The connection sparks to life again, as if Donnie had been struck by lightning. And he knows Leo feels it too, his eyes widening ever so slightly. And then he and his brothers are hugging, his twin is breathing, everyone is… mostly okay, alive at least, and Donatello couldn’t be happier.

That had been the longest 4 minutes and 28 seconds of his life.

And just like last time, the twins had found each other.

#pommantics #i don’t have a writing tag lol #anyway #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt movie #rottmnt donnie #rise donnie #rise donatello #donatello hamato #save rottmnt #save rise of the tmnt #unpause rottmnt #unpause rise of the tmnt #unpause rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tagging some friendos in the comments hehe

161 notes · View notes

izartela · 9 months

Text

What if they couldn't get Leo out of the Prison Dimension?

It's been months since the invasion; months since they last saw Leonardo's devastated face behind the too-quickly closing orange portal.

Months since Donatello holed himself up in his lab to find a way to get his brother back.

Considering Mikey's current level of mystic ability and the strain opening that portal already put on him, another attempt at the orange turtle forcing his way through the dimensional barriers was out of the question unless they wanted to risk losing him too. While his remaining brothers were slowly losing hope and already going through various stages of the grieving process, Donatello was not about to give up that easily.

So he worked tirelessly (apart from sparse naps at his desk when his body refused to stay awake any longer), with empty coffee cups as the only indication of the passage of time. His family tried to get him to rest more but gave up around the three-month mark after he blew up at them and used every cheap trick in the book to hurt them. He wasn't proud of that, but it had to be done; he couldn't afford to be interrupted, not before he brings his twin back.

But one thing shouted at him off-handedly during that fight stuck in his head. "Are you sure there's a Leo left to rescue?"

It struck him then that his family had already given up on Leo and gave him all the more fuel to spit out every horrible thing he could think of at them.

I mean, yeah, they all saw Kraang Prime catch Leonardo right before the portal fizzed out; they all knew that he didn't have his swords anymore to help him fight, but come on! Have some faith in him! Leo always had some convoluted clever plan that would get him out of trouble (usually through more trouble, yes, but ultimately out of it regardless).

Donnie trusted his brother to push through and survive—for his family.

Still, those despondent words were now stuck in his mind, no matter how much he negated them. He had to make sure that Leo was okay. He had to try to connect with his communicator. Maybe they would even be able to talk if he made the connection strong enough! He had tried it briefly before, but he hadn't bothered to enhance the signal at the time, deciding to focus solely on rescue attempts.

The number of empty coffee cups only grew as he switched his focus to learning everything he could about interdimensional signal amplification. There wasn't much information on the subject (with humans being woefully ignorant about pocket dimensions—or any other dimensions for that matter—and yokai, in turn, being ignorant about technology), but he followed every crumb he could get his hands on, no matter how ridiculous. He lost count of the different attempts at connecting with Leo's communicator. Voice communication seemed to be out of the question, at least for now, but surely he could at least check up on his brother's status. To at least make sure that he was okay.

That there was still a Leo left to rescue.

However, no matter what he tried, he always got the same message from the system: 'pulse not found.' It was still the same message as before he even began his signal enhancement attempts. Nothing he did would yield a different result.

He did everything he could, used every option available to him. How could he not have gotten any signal by now?! Not even the faintest of heartbeats, made irregular by the signal disturbances and fluctuations across dimensions?!

Or perhaps...

Donatello didn't want to let the thought enter his head, but it still poked and prodded at his brain after every failed attempt.

What if he had already managed to connect, and the message was actually reflecting the truth?

What if Leonardo was already gone?...

94 notes · View notes

bathomet-writes · 1 year

Text

stayin’ alive

summary: During the Kraang invasion, you try your best to help the turtles save the city. Agent Bishop and the Earth Protection Force seem to have everything under control, or so they say.

relationship: Donnie x GN!reader

warnings: romantic, fluff, humor, slight angst/comfort, near-death experience, CPR, kissing, angst with a happy ending

word count: 4,604

author's note: here's the request for @/sweetchildcloud!! thank u!

“Does anybody read me?”

You spoke harshly into your earpiece. While the turtles, April, and the others were out fighting the Kraang, you tasked yourself with trying to, in some way, help out down on the ground. You were down in the bowels of the city, being herded like cattle into rescue buses carting people out of the burrow.

You weren’t exactly a ninja, or had any special skills to speak of, but you couldn’t let yourself get taken away so easily. Not when there was something you could do. Not when your friends were still out there fighting for their lives.

Thankfully, April wasn’t too busy to pick up her comm.

“We’re– we’re fine. But Leo…”

Your heart sinks. Looking up into the sky, you finally notice that the Technodrome was forced back into the prison dimension. At least half of it anyway. The portal-chopped remains crashed down into the buildings below, sending a wave of dust and debris to come sailing through the streets. You cough and shield your eyes, before peeling off from the crowd.

You didn’t want to believe it, but you knew. Leo still wasn’t back yet.

“Goddamn him and his hero complex,” you frown.

But there was no time to mourn. You didn’t even want to call it ‘mourning.’ In your frustration, you turn off your earpiece.

“Come on, think.”

All of the sudden you felt restless. There must be something you could do, something to help–

“Get these people out of here. We have readings that the aliens planted some kind of bomb.”

Your ears perk up, and you turn to look behind you. There were a couple of suits; real Men in Black-looking types, talking amongst themselves. One stood out as their leader, directing the others toward the caravan of trucks pulling in. Without thinking, you run over to talk with him.

“These–” He stutters, too swamped to even come up with a nickname. “Whatever they’re called– don’t respond to any conventional human weapons.”

“The Kraang,” you gasp, catching your breath.

The tall man searches around for a moment before landing on you. You cough a bit and stand up to meet his perplexed gaze. It takes a while, considering he was much taller than you.

“What did you say?”

Wait…did he really not know their names? Quickly, you collect yourself.

“The Kraang. But why would they bomb us?”

You thought the Kraang wanted to enslave humanity. Infect our brains and rule over as a hive mind. Why would they use a weapon like that, especially when they weren’t even here anymore? Your mind buzzed with a million questions. It made no sense.

The man straightens, dusting himself off. Maybe you weren’t just a normal civilian after all, he thought to himself.

“Special Agent Bishop, Earth Protection Force.”

He doesn’t bother waiting for you to introduce yourself. Quietly, he leads you over to the other side of the armored truck you were standing behind. You eagerly oblige, following him until he stops at the edge of the street.

Straining your eyes, you see the abandoned docks the Foot Clan used as their temporary hideout. You recognized those shipping containers, littered with graffiti.

“Tell me, what do you see down there?” He nods over to the docks.

“I see…”

Leaning over the cement barrier, you manage to see a couple of people still lingering about down there. They were Foot soldiers, still infected with Kraang residue. They shuffled along like mindless zombies, and it made your stomach churn.

“And do you see that?”

You follow Bishop’s hand as he points over to a device sitting on the top of one of the shipping containers. You see a blinking red light, pulsating. Instantly, you grab at his sleeve and urge Bishop back to the truck.

“We have to do something! Don’t you guys have a way to defuse it?”

Calmly, he tears his arm away from you. He adjusts his suit with a detached huff.

“We have no resources and no knowledge about…the Kraang? Is that what you called them? What else do you know?”

You scoff, looking back at the bomb. “Listen, I can tell you anything you want. Just do something about the bomb!”

If the Kraang really did put that there, who knows how many more bombs were planted around the city. You watch as Bishop regards you coldly. He pushes his sunglasses higher up on the bridge of his nose before walking away.

“I’d suggest you clear the area. When that bomb goes off, it’s going to blow those poor souls down there to kingdom come.”

He clicks his tongue, and you shudder with fear.

“Pity.”

What the actual fuck was this guy’s deal? Internally, you debate with yourself. Sure, they were villains, but that didn’t mean they deserved to be blown up. And you knew April said something earlier about the Kraang reacting to the glowing, blue vials. The ones she swiped from the lab at Eastlaird. There was a way to cure them. To cure everyone that was infected.

“Pesticides! The Kraang’s weakness is pesticides, you piece of shit! Now you and your government goons can go grab some and–”

“Pest, that’s an apt description.” He spits, twisting around to face you. “You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders, I’d suggest you tell your friends to come back down here and help clean up the mess they made.”

You slowly back away, putting your hands out behind you. Blindly, you feel around for the concrete slab. The way Bishop was looking at you made you nervous. There was a distinct sense of dread that flooded your mind. You knew he wasn’t here to help you, he was here to gather intel. And it looked like he knew quite a bit more about your friends than you thought.

With a final look back at the docks, you steel yourself. If the so-called ‘Earth Protection Force’ wasn’t going to do anything, it might as well be you.

“Well,” you smirk, flipping him the bird. “I guess today’s a good day to die!”

You throw your legs over the divider and run down to the docks. Bishop moves a bit, reaching out to stop you.

“You idiot! You’re going to…”

Then, he sighs. Speaking into his own earpiece, he makes an announcement.

“Get me Eastlaird University.”

–

You run at full speed, dodging and dipping past the infected Foot soldiers. Like zombies, they didn’t hesitate to claw and bite. You barely miss one that gnashes its mangled teeth at your skull.

“Jesus–!”

You drop to the ground and slide a bit, your knees digging against the pavement. It's only a couple of yards to the shipping container, and only a few feet up to reach the bomb. You really didn’t expect today to end with you defusing an alien weapon, but here you are.

Reaching up, you activate your comms again. You hope you didn’t accidentally miss any important events while you went silent.

“Please tell me something good.”

To your surprise, you hear a chorus of cheers blaring from the speaker. You can make out nearly everyone’s voices, even Leo’s. As you awkwardly shimmy up to the first container, you feel your heart begin to fill back up with life.

“Y/N! We did it!” Mikey screams, jumping up and down.

Your voice warbles with emotion. “Is Leo…?”

“Back and better than ever. Didya miss me?” Leo smiles, cutting in.

“I can’t believe it, he’s really gone.” You sniffle, wiping away a fake tear. “I knew I would still hear your sweet, annoying voice speak to me beyond the grave.”

He playfully scoffs. “It’s fine, I totally didn’t just save your life or anything.”

Kicking off another Foot zombie, you manage to get to the top of the shipping containers. You stand there, suddenly frozen.

“Oh yeah, speaking of saving– I’m kind of standing next to a Kraang bomb right now. Where are you guys, not too far I hope?”

“We’re on Staten Island, so we’re probably pretty far from– Wait…A BOMB?” Raph’s voice goes from calm to panicked in mere seconds.

Donnie overrides all the communicators, speaking directly and only to you.

“What do you mean ‘a Kraang bomb’? They never deployed any bombs!”

He paces around, working on his wrist gauntlet and locking onto your exact coordinates. To his despair, you were miles away from them.

“Well, I’m standing here looking at a big box, with a blinking red light on it. It’s probably not a Kraang gift basket. ‘Sorry for almost taking over the planet, here’s some assorted cheeses.’”

You cautiously approach and crawl onto your knees. You didn’t want to accidentally set this thing off, but you have utterly no idea what to do about it. There wasn’t a handy timer to show you a countdown, and there wasn’t a panel of wires you could cut.

If only Donnie were here.

He was still miles away, but Donnie was already flying to your location. As he glides past the spires of buildings and various police helicopters, his brow was furrowed in sharp concentration.

“Listen to me, don’t touch it. Get as far away from it as you can!”

You gulp. Hearing Donnie sound so stern was a bit jarring.

“But I can’t just do nothing! These government guys, they were just going to let it go off and–”

Again, your body moves without thinking. Your hands lightly move around the box, hoping to find some kind of button. Surely most bombs are built with convenient off-switches, right? You grumble to yourself.

“Wait,” You gasp.

“What did I just say?” Donnie growls, his voice low and gravely.

Wordlessly, you spin the box around to get a better look at the other side. There was a faded, scratched-up logo. It was hard to make out, but you could swear you’ve seen it somewhere before.

There was an American eagle, its claws holding onto a sigil of the planet. Above its head, those words you hoped you didn’t have to read were inscribed. The color drains from your face.

‘Earth Protection Force.’

Your voice is quiet, weak. You felt so defeated.

“Donnie, this isn’t the Kraang.”

You hear him sigh with relief. Donnie couldn’t really handle any more life-or-death situations today.

“Fuck, thank goodness. I’m almost there.”

He speaks words of encouragement to you, but you don’t hear them. His familiar voice becomes more and more distant. You stare at the box, the blinking red light a grim reminder that at any moment, you would most certainly die. Did Bishop plan this whole thing from the start?

Maybe they would just write it off as more collateral damage from the Kraang. It would be easy to sweep under the rug. The only people who would perish were a bunch of nameless Foot thugs, and you.

You thought you could help, you thought you could make a difference. So much for that.

Chuckling dryly, you stand up.

The docks were right next to the ocean, maybe you could just jump and spare yourself the trouble. A watery end wasn’t that much better than getting blown up, but you guess you at least had the choice. You wish you had the foresight to talk with Donnie one last time. Instead, you use all the strength you have to lift the box up and toss it into the harbor.

The bomb tumbles down, causing an enormous splash.

But, it doesn’t go off.

“Huh,” you sigh. “That was weird.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of Donnie’s drone wings close in. You didn’t realize he could move that fast. In slow motion, you feel yourself turn.

There was Donnie, his face etched with worry.

“What are you still doing here?” He shouts.

You hear his voice call out to you in the distance, having already pulled out your ear piece. As you turn to fully face him, you fail to notice the bubbling from the water below. You were far too busy staring like an idiot at the purple-clad turtle.

“Dee?” You whisper, your hand weakly reaching up.

You watch as his eyebrows raise, his eyes widen. What was he looking at, you wonder.

Then, it happens.

KA-BOOM–!

The piercing sound of an explosion rocks you to your core. The shipping container instantly gets knocked about by the tidal wave that cascades from below. The bomb finally went off, but thankfully it was deep in the bottom of the harbor. That’s all you can think about as you fall off, your feet slipping off the edge of the metal.

Thank goodness it went off before Donnie got here. Please, let him be safe.

Those were your last thoughts.

Your body smacks against the surface of the water like you fell onto straight concrete. The blow knocks you unconscious, and your lungs slowly begin to fill up. The water tasted bitter, almost sour.

Finally, you plunge into the darkness.

–

“No! No, no, no, no!”

Donnie screams, shielding himself from the explosion. The bomb goes off and sends a great deal of water up into the sky. The shipping container you were standing on breaks from the impact, and he watches as you fall into the harbor.

He seethes, gritting his teeth. You were an idiot. A stupid, impulsive idiot. Why were you still here? Next to a fucking bomb?

Donnie flies over to the water and immediately dives in. He would have risked everything to get you to safety. He guessed having to expose his tech to water would be an acceptable sacrifice.

With little effort, he manages to swim in and find you. You drifted along, your body limp and lifeless. His tech goggles covered his eyes and allowed him to see within the clouded water.

He got enough self-sacrificing from Leo today, why did you have to go and do something so brave.

“I hate you,” he spits, lifting you up into the air. “How dare you make me carry you.”

He couldn’t go back to the docks. It was still crawling with Foot zombies. The dirty beach would just have to do. The sand buckles and shifts below Donnie’s feet as he slung your dead weight over his shoulder.

“Please. Please don’t be dead.”

He sets you down against the course sand, careful not to jostle you too much. He quickly assesses your wounds. Your body was relatively unscathed, but you were still unconscious.

Gulping, he angles your neck up. Feels at your pulse.

Thank God, you still had one. It was weak, but it was there. Donnie takes you by the shoulders and shakes you about.

“Wake up. C’mon, don’t make me have to—“

His eyes desperately rake over you, looking for any sort of response. You didn’t stir, your body still slack.

Donnie sucked in a bit of air through his nostrils. You definitely were water-logged, and you were unresponsive. He hated to admit it, but there was no other way.

“Alright! Here goes nothing…!”

Donnie places his hands in the center of your chest and gives you a set of quick compressions. He hadn’t had to administer life-saving protocols before, but he prided himself on being fully prepared for any scenario.

He just didn't think he’d have to do them on you.

After about 30 compressions, he stops.

“Wake up,” he urges. “Wake up already.”

Your eyes remained shut. Looking down, Donnie’s heart seizes. Your mouth was slack, slightly open and with no breath escaping.

No, please. Anything but that.

Before he could spiral down into his own self-pity, Donnie grabs at your head. Pinching your nostrils closed, he leans down to linger upon your lips.

It was only two breaths, two measly breaths. He had to shift into a medical mindset. This was for your own good.

“You better not be faking it.”

With one last sharp inhale, Donnie smashes his lips into yours. One breath, two breaths. He felt your chest rise with the second breath.

Lifting himself off of you, he gazes upon you with quiet reverence. You looked like you always did, only a little drenched. And cold. Donnie’s hands wander down to your arms, squeezing you tightly.

You simply couldn’t be dead. It was a scientific impossibility. Sure, you were as mortal as he was, and we all have to bite it someday. But he wouldn’t let that happen today. He would rewrite the laws of the universe if he had to.

“Fuck…”

He felt the tears that he fought so hard to keep in start to run down his cheeks.

“You’re stronger than this. You can’t just—“

His eyes bore into your closed eyelids, willing them to finally open. Any second now. Donnie resumed the chest compressions with a little more desperation. He didn’t even care that he might be bruising your ribcage at this point.

“Don’t you know that there are people who still need you? We still have to finish the Jupiter Jim marathon! You’ve only seen the first 7!”

Donnie’s voice started with a quiet, commanding tone before lilting into a shout. There was so much left for you to do here, you just couldn’t leave now. What would his brothers say? Or April? Your parents?

After the last couple of compressions, Donnie stilled. That was it.

“You’re…” He whispers, tears streaming down his face.

He needed to call Leo, or send a distress signal. He needed to do anything except sit there and stare at you. He felt despair begin to creep in, slowly consuming his every thought. Immediately, Donnie pushes it away with a slam of his fists on the sand beside your head.

Anger. No, rage. White-hot rage.

“I told you to leave. And like always, you didn’t listen.”

Donnie glowered at you, his eyes going dark. But for some reason, all his fury disappeared once he got a good look at your face. He’s been angry with you plenty of times before. You were kind of an annoying person. He lets out a light chuckle before scooping you up into his arms. Carefully, slowly.

He’d never really hugged you before though. It was nice, feeling your body lean up against his, but…

“I wish this were under different circumstances.” Donnie smiles, feeling a new bittersweet emotion bubble up in his chest.

“Usually you have something funny to say back. Or something stupid. Remember when I caught you reading my book of life-saving procedures?”

It was still a work in progress, but he was on a mission to draft a follow-up to his New York Times worst-selling hit, Donnie’s Big Book of Bad Guy Codes.

He didn’t realize until just now, but you were the only one who read either of his books.

“You were at the CPR chapter, practicing on Sheldon. You two were singing that song to keep the correct pace…”

Donnie sniffled and brought you in closer to his chest. Even though you were soaking wet and covered in sand, he needed to bury his face in your hair.

What was that stupid song anyway? It was probably for the best that he couldn’t remember, he wouldn’t be able to listen to it again. It would remind Donnie too much of you.

“It’s alright.” A small voice spoke.

“No, it’s not alright.”

He didn’t know who exactly was speaking to him right now. Donnie squeezes you even tighter, all of the sudden hearing someone wheeze.

“It’s alright, it’s okay.”

You finally stir, petting Donnie’s battle shell. You tried to be as soothing and calm as possible, but you knew there wouldn’t be much time left before you puke up a bunch of water.

“Whether you’re a brother or whether you’re a mother, you’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive. Feel the city breakin’ and everybody shakin’ and you’re stayin’—AUGGH!”

Finally, you cough and sputter, water shamelessly spilling from your mouth. You really didn’t want to have to do this while Donnie was holding you so sweetly.

Donnie’s sad expression falls away. “What the—?”

He pulls you away and searches your face. Your eyes were screwed shut as you continued to get out all the water that was in your stomach and lungs. Mindlessly, Donnie slams his arms against your back to help you.

Then, the realization hits him. You were alive! And not only that, you were your same annoying self!

“Donnie! I— augh, God. I need to tell you about Bishop. There’s this—“

Donnie shuts you up, pulling you back in for a spine-breaking hug. Or at least, a rib-breaking one. You recoil a bit and cry out in pain, feeling a weird ache in your chest.

“OW!” You shudder.

“You’re an idiot. A dumb, stupid, reckless, insubordinate idiot. Please don’t ever leave!” He cries, nuzzling his head against yours.

Somehow, you ignore Donnie’s unusual show of affection. There was still Bishop and the E.P.F., and the Foot Zombies clambering above you both. This was not the time or place to be canoodling.

“We have to go! Where are the guys? I think there’s a secret Black Ops that knows about you? And they—“

Once again, you’re cut off by Donnie. Another sting of pain runs throughout your body, and you push yourself off.

“Jesus! And I thought drowning in the Hudson was suffocating.”

You smirk at Donnie, wiping off the last bit of water from your chin. He was still caught up in…emotions? Is that what he was experiencing right now? You lean forward, leveling him with a teasing grin.

“Ha-ha, you saved me.” You chuckle.

But looking at Donnie’s face…his dumb, happy, handsome face. It made you nearly tear up yourself. You suddenly remember the events that led up to this moment. The bomb, the falling, the almost dying.

Your smile curls into a frown, complete with a quivering lip. “You…you saved me.”

“Well, duh. I only did what Donnie’s Big Book of Life-Saving Procedures taught me.”

Donnie finally lets his familiar snark return. With a flippant smirk, he reaches into his battle shell and pulls out a spare handkerchief. He always kept one or two on his person, just in case.

He supposes he could have used his robotic arms to hand it to you, and to pat you down with it too. He could have used them to resuscitate you as well, now that he thought about it. But he didn’t.

With a light touch, he places the rag against your cheek and your hair. It didn’t really do that much, considering you were both soaking wet. It didn’t matter.

Your eyes meet, and you both finally smile at one another. A genuine, thankful smile. They said all they needed to say without any words.

Still, you felt a little bad for making Donnie have to do CPR on you. You’re sure it wasn’t a pleasant experience for him, what with all the…physical contact involved.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you. And for all this.” You gesture vaguely to your chest. “I guess I thought I could be a hero like you guys…”

“We’re no heroes. Just a couple of highly-trained, highly volatile young adults with advanced weaponry and mystic powers. What’s so heroic about that?”

Up above on the docks, you hear a suspicious sound. More so the lack of sound, since the Foot zombies were somehow no longer growling up above.

“Wait—“ You stand up, your legs a little wobbly.

“Woah, slow down there cowboy.”

Donnie quickly catches you before you fall, putting a solid arm around your midsection. You blush, feeling his hand grab you so firmly.

“You do know that in the last couple of minutes, we’ve had more physical contact than we ever had since…ever?”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighs.

You chance a sheepish look to him as he leads you over to the other end of the beach. Getting a clearer view of the docks, you both see a couple of government workers in hazmat suits spraying people down. The Kraang infections begin to slowly fade away, and you grab ahold of Donnie’s arm.

“Wait, how did they…?”

“The pesticides. I guess someone managed to tell them that the Kraang had a weakness. And to think they were just going to leave them, or worse.”

Donnie smirks down at you, giving you a gentle but reassuring pat on the back.

“Whoever did that sure is a real hero.”

You tear your eyes away from the docks to look back at Donnie. Your stomach fills with butterflies at his tender gaze. He’s never really looked at you like that before. Tonight was a night of many firsts.

You shrug, feeling embarrassed. “I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right. Why does it take the world to nearly end for people to understand that?”

Chuckling, you stand up a little straighter. You definitely needed to rest, your body would be a mess tomorrow. Donnie’s hand shifts a bit to lay on your hip, and you find yourself leaning into his hold.

“So, we saved the day? Do you think that means you guys will be given some kind of award? Key to the city?”

Donnie scoffs, helping you walk up back to the street. “I’m sure our valiant efforts will go relatively unnoticed. Not that we need to be congratulated, but…it doesn’t really matter.”

“Sure it does. I’m not an official or anything, but I think you all deserve some kind of honor. A plaque at least.”

You manage to climb back up to the pavement with Donnie’s help. Once you dust yourself off a bit, you wring out your damp hair.

“Oh yeah, they’ll be putting up statues of us in no time. Sing our praises in the streets. Ugh, and then there are the public appearances. I would hate to have to kiss a baby.”

As you two walked back toward the rest of the gang (you both agreed that flying was a little out of the question for your slightly broken body), you moved to be a little closer to Donnie.

“Nah, kissing’s gross. I only do it in emergency medical situations.” You tease, knocking against Donnie’s shoulder with your own.

Donnie suddenly stops, a deep blush filling his cheeks.

“I— It was protocol! It’s two breaths, with minimal skin-on-skin contact. If I was going to kiss you, I wouldn’t be so cold and clinical about it.”

You feel yourself begin to laugh before you clutch at your tender muscles. Ah, there’s the pain again. Why was Donnie so cute and funny, he was going to be the death of you.

“Whatever you say.”

With a little hop and a skip, you manage to plant a small kiss on Donnie’s cheek. You know it’s not nearly enough of the thanks he deserves, but you hope it makes him feel a little more…heroic.

“Thanks for helping me stay alive.” You smile.

In a charged couple of seconds, Donnie peeks down at you. You’re almost afraid that you’ve overstepped your boundaries when he doesn’t say anything. Eventually, his lips tug into a small smirk.

Quietly, he begins to sing. His voice is comically flat.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.”

You give him an even bigger, goofier smile. After he loops back around to the chorus, you happily join him, with a little more enthusiasm in your delivery.

You hook your arm around his, singing and laughing all the way. You would deal with the fallout and boring stuff later. Right now, you were just glad to be with Donnie. You should be glad you aren’t dead too, but that was secondary.

taglist: @saspas-corner

#rottmnt x reader #donnie x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #donatello x reader #tmnt x reader #sfw #requests #idk why i decided to include bishop in this lol #i guess to add more plot??#some fun government corruption preamble

262 notes · View notes

nights-flying-fox · 2 months

Text

Hopelessly Surviving

Chapter 1 (AKA Prologue): Ghosty Leo and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Resurrection

They saved Leo, but it was too late. As the family was still not accepting what happened, hours later Draxum shows up, and somehow he has the help they need. Now Leo is back to life, but something is different. Something is wrong and Leo has to figure out what is true and what is not to win this battle (with the help of his family). ☾ Updates every Sunday. ☾

Word Count: 1614 ☆ Fandom: rottmnt ☆ Warnings: temporary character death, if there is anything else i should tag please tell me ☆ AO3 Link: Here!! ☆ Next Chapter: here

Welcome to the Prologue everyone <33 Hope you like it!! Shoutout to @little-banjo-frog for helping me with this chapter (and the titles)!!!! You are the amazing my dude!!!

...

Gasp.

Leo shot up as he took a strong breath and wheezed, feeling the pain strong all over his body. His legs were hurting, his shell was thumping, he still could feel the hold on his throat... but the worst of them was the one he felt on his plastron. The one that was so sudden and painful, and he was sure Krang Prime had taken out his heart or something. He was sure he had died.

But now he was alive.

And the world- no, Prison Dimension- was blurry and he barely could hear anything (not that there was much except Krang's growls).

And yet, he almost could hear more over the sound of his fast beating heart. The coldness of the floor wasn't the rocks he felt every time he was thrown on, but something different. Familiar. Something was off here.

He blinked, trying to calm down. Trying to ignore the memories that belonged to the moment right before he blacked out. The red light and the sound of the metal suit.

Something touched him, and he immediately tried to get away. He tried to get on his feet, at least make enough force to be able to leap back or float away. Instead he felt gravity pull him down and he was met with the floor again, this time rougher and colder. …What?

He blinked again, trying to focus. Whatever he was against, he couldn't escape if he was acting without the knowledge of his surroundings.

The voices kept calling. There was something- no, someone in front of him. Then he noticed the green and red.

Leo froze. He knew those colors. Comforting, safe... It couldn't be. There was no way. But... what if... Leo swallowed, "Raph?"

His vision hadn't cleared fully, but he still could see the wide smile on his face. He said something (and Leo knew it was his name even though all he heard was muffled nonsense), and then pulled him into a tight hug.

Less than in seconds, he was surrounded by many. Everyone hugged him, holding him. And he knew all of them. He recognized all of these colors and knew the warmth and... and...

"Am I hallucinating?" He asked quietly. A muffled murmur answered. Leo didn't know what they said. He decided to ask another question, half joking, "Or am I in heaven?"

As things got less and less blurry, Leo now could see the way they looked at him once he asked it. Their voices had gone quiet too. Just when they were becoming clear, all the muffled left itself to a faint ringing.

Then he was met with Donnie, his hands holding Leo's face. "You're fucking alive, that's what you are." He said, and Leo saw the tears on his face.

"You're home, Leo." Raph added. Leo noticed his hand was on his shoulder, holding him with care.

He stared at them for a few seconds, trying to progress the words he just heard. Alive and home? Sounded too good to be true, but also... There was no gravity in the Prison Dimension. He wouldn't be able to imagine this warmness even if he wished to.

He looked at them again. It was them, and they looked at him with the most hopeful, strong and yet vulnerable eyes. Just like how Raph had when he almost fell down from that building. Huh, that felt like irony. He had once again ended up falling and yet was saved by his loved ones.

And they were here. They were okay, and with him. They held him. Safe.

This was real. Leo looked at all of them- everyone in his family- one by one. His brothers, April, dad... Of course. Of course they had saved him. He believed they would after all, didn't he?

Finally he responded, "Holy shit."

"Holy shit?" Raph repeated with a laugh. "You got through all this and just say 'Holy shit'?"

"Hey, I got caught unprepared and unconscious, you can't blame a guy for taking time to process he was saved while he was out of it!" Leo said back, and even though it sounded like he was complaining he was grinning and he could feel the tears forming. He was safe, he was with them!

Suddenly there was quiet. A quiet that he didn't like. Something was wrong.

"What, it wasn't you who saved me?" He took a guess. He didn't want to think of the possibility of anything worse happening.

"Uh, Leo..." Raph began, but he failed to continue his sentence.

"What?" Leo asked. He was getting impatient, and the grip of anxiety since he woke up wasn't helping.

"You weren't... ya know... unconscious." Raph struggled, but managed to find the words.

But Leo didn't understand. "What do you mean?" He questioned, getting more nervous. It didn't make any sense. “What was I then?”

There was a moment of quiet, and Leo was about to ask again when Donnie spoke : “Dead.”

“Donnie!”

Everyone turned to him with various faces of glares and a 'Donnie, what the heck?'. But Leo didn't care about them. "Dead?" He repeated. "Didn't you just say I was alive? Are we really sure this is real?" He laughed nervously, because it started to feel like a fever dream.

April sighed, "What he means is when we found you you were, well, dead. But Draxum found a way to bring you back." She explained. Then cringed, "Saying it out loud really doesn't make it any better."

"Draxum?" Leo repeated, and he was doing this a lot lately, didn't he? But he couldn't help it when nothing made sense. "Bring me back? I'm sorry, I'm not following what you're saying." The grip tightened and he felt sick.

"Maybe we should've taken this slower." Mikey interrupted.

"And give him some space guys." April added turning around him. Leo was glad, because as much as he liked getting a hug from his family, right now everything started feeling a bit too much.

“Leo, it's okay.” She talked to him in her gentlest tone he had ever heard. “Do you need some time and space?”

He didn't answer, instead he asked again. "I... I died?" He was feeling stupid for asking what he has been told many times now but he still couldn't understand. He didn't understand anything. "Guys- what- this doesn't make any sense."

And then there was the quiet again. He hated the quiet.

Luckily, none other than his dad knew that better. "Blue, my son. We can explain everything in detail. Well, maybe Draxum could do that better than us," He glanced towards the yokai on the side of the room. Leo hadn't noticed he was watching them the whole time. Heck, he was just now noticing Casey Jr. was in the room (they were in his room!) and was avoiding eye contact. Splinter held his hand gently. "But this can happen later. Now you need to calm down and rest."

Leo looked at him, his concerned eyes looking back at him. Then to the others. Okay. Okay he could figure out this later. As long as he wasn't in Prison Dimension it was okay. As long as he had his family with him it was okay. As long as they were okay, it was okay. He didn't have to worry himself with this, nor should worry anyone else. He nodded, "Yeah..." He said, then forced a smile. "Who cares as long as I'm back here anyways. Now tell me how in the name of the Pizza Supreme in the Sky you got me out of there, because what the heck!"

"Now that's the spirit baby!" Mikey cheered.

Leo opened his arms again, and his family once again were hugging him tightly. Leo looked at Casey Jr, who still was avoiding looking at him. "You too, Casey." Leo called. “Come on!”

Casey blinked in surprise, then smiled genuinely and joined them. Leo shared that genuine smile as well as he let himself surrounded by the hugs of his family.

“How does your bed not break?” Casey Jr. asked after a beat, clear that his curiosity won.

“Genius Built.” Donnie answered proudly.

“Oh no, here we go again.” Leo rolled his eyes. “I get out of Prison Dimension and immediately have to hear Donnie infodump.”

“You cannot hide your amusement from your face, you little liar.” Donnie replied with a smirk. “Weak.”

“Says the one who's been crying the whole time.” Leo retorded with his own smirk.

“Cut it you two,” Raph huffed. Then he smiled albeit a bit evilly, “Everyone knows both of you are idiots.”

“Gasp!”

“Betrayal by my very own brother!”

“Ah, there is the family I know.” April sighed happily.

“You all are so weird.” Draxum commented, his frown not changing a bit. “But I guess it is good to see you being like yourselves again.”

“Aww I knew you loved us!” Mikey exclaimed.

“Tolerate would be the proper word.” He corrected.

“He definitely loves us.” Mikey hummed.

“Sure, Angelo.” Leo said sarcastically. But a part of him believed him, or at least the possibility of the yokai warming up to them. All of them. If what everyone told him was true and all… But who cared about any of that now.

Yeah. It was fine as long as he was with them. As long as he was safe.

“Oh, and by the way, since you wanted to know,” Mikey leaned towards Leo's face. As he pushed down Donnie with hands, he took all of Leo's viewpoint with his face right in front of him. “I opened a portal to the Prison Dimension.”

“Huh?”

He raised his hands, “With theseeee!”

“You did what?!”

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #save rise of the tmnt #unpause rottmnt #unpause rise of the tmnt #rottmnt au #tmnt au #tmnt #tmnt fanfiction #temporary character death #came back wrong #kinda #nighty writey #hopelessly surviving au

20 notes · View notes