#I had to add some top part so Raph’s head would fit

[gratefulcheeses]

MWAHAHAHA, my EVIL plan to slightly un-turtle the teenage mutant ninja turtles has come to fruition!!!!

(Click for better quality!)

#don’t look at the background too hard haha #I had to add some top part so Raph’s head would fit #so if you stare too hard it looks wonk #anyway I guess I’m tagging these? #also sorry for tmnt posting but rise has consumed me #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #tmnt 2018 #rise michelangelo #rottmnt michelangelo #rottmnt mikey #rise raph #rottmnt raph #rise leo #rottmnt leo #leo rottmnt #rise donnie #rise donatello #donatello rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #mozarellart

[chubbyheroesworthyheroes]

How about Silas (Fates) and Raphael (3H)? In Silas' supports with Kaze, Kaze is secretly giving him more food as thanks for saving him (like refilling Silas' soup bowl when Silas isn't looking). I thought this could continue unnoticed until Silas can't fit into his armor. For Raph, I figure he's the type of person whose solution to everything is MOAR GAINZ. So what if Balthus bests him in practice combat, so Raph ups his caloric intake but ends up putting on a layer of chonk (and a big gut)?

editing? dont know em--

After their conversation, Silas believed he had gotten through to Kaze about how he didn’t need to pay him back for helping him against that Faceless -- especially since the other man had similarly ended up saving the Nohrian knight not too long after. As far as Silas was aware, they were even and just helping each other out as comrades.

But, on Kaze’s end, wanting to repay the knight for his deeds was just one part of why he was sneakily adding on to the other’s meals. Yes, he was grateful for the rescue, and he took repaying that debt very seriously, but that had been paid back in full by now. No, there was something else that kept Kaze by the silver haired knight’s side, but it wasn’t quite something he knew how to explain, so he let everyone else simply assume that they’d bonded and become good friends.

Which wasn’t wrong, per se, Kaze did actually enjoy Silas’ company. He just...also greatly enjoyed watching the other man eat to the point of being perhaps a little too full.

In Hoshido, especially if one was in the military, such indulgement wasn’t something tolerated. A soldier must be primed for a fight at all times, so while meals were always nourishing and flavorful, there wasn’t often such excess given to those in their station. From what he knew of Nohr, food was not as bountiful as it was in Hoshido, though it was safe to assume that the higher class was given access to the best regardless. Perhaps that was what drove some part of the ninja to give Silas more. Was it not good to give more to those who had been lacking in the same boons as your country’s riches?

But, even that didn’t ring ultimately truthful. At least, not entirely. It, of course, made him feel good to make sure his companions were all taken care of, but there was something else that lurked behind those good intentions. Some morbid interest in watching -- either from close by or afar, both were simple enough to accomplish with his skills in stealth -- another eat and eat, unaware of how much they were stuffing into themselves until something in their brain finally clicked and told them to stop, only it was too late already and they had to stay where they were, bloated and groaning.

It made Kaze flustered and just a little pent up merely thinking about it.

So, he kept up his activities in secret, adding on extras to Silas’ meals and observing -- both going unnoticed..

---

It had been some weeks now since Kaze’s focus on Silas had started. As someone trained to be both extremely observant and incredibly stealthy at the same time, it was a little baffling to see that the knight...had not noticed anything different about his meals. Kaze knew exactly how much he had been adding -- never too much at once, so as to not raise any unnecessary suspicion, slowly giving more and more when it seemed like the other had unknowingly grown accustomed to the portions -- and he was always cautious not to overdo it, but it was still a bit of a surprise that the Nohrian was still so unawares. It wasn’t a bad thing -- certainly not for Kaze -- and it spoke to Silas’ trust and camaraderie with everyone else in Corrin’s army. If it were anything serious, Kaze would be concerned for the knight’s willingness to so easily trust, but it was endearing all the same, and made curiosity gnaw at the back of his mind at how far he could go and still get away with this unnoticed.

Silas’ obliviousness towards what and how much went into his mouth also seemed to extend towards himself. While diligent in his training and duties, he wasn’t very preoccupied with how he looked. He cared where it mattered, of course; he didn’t want to reflect poorly on his dear friend, Corrin, and always looked presentable. But he seemed to have no qualms about himself.

So, where Kaze noticed the way his riding trousers now clung to the curves of his fuller ass, or how his fine shirts pressed cozily against the slight roll of chub that had appeared at his lower belly, Silas seemed perfectly happy not registering that anything was different. And that knowledge only made the heat inside Kaze grow, knowing that this was something of a perfect storm for him. If he weren’t so naturally mild mannered and quiet, Kaze would almost say the thought of what this could turn into made him giddy.

But, it was still early on in this little game, and there was still every chance that it would end when Silas took note of the changes.

---

“Whew, I must be coming down with something, because I just can’t seem to cool off!” Kaze overheard Silas one day, his attention immediately drawn away from his current task.

It was easy enough to fake taking inventory of their supplies to eavesdrop on the knight’s conversation.

“We do have warm summers here in Hoshido, perhaps you are simply not yet used to them, my friend,” came Ryoma’s sure and steady voice, his tone amused.

Kaze darted his gaze over to the two, who must have been finishing up some early morning sparring before the heat of the day got too bad. Prince Ryoma was, indeed, in good spirits; his expression mirthful as he exchanged some more words with Silas. Where there was some color to the prince’s face from the exertion of mock battle, it was clear he was fairing far better than his partner. Silas had at some point forgone his shirt due to the heat, giving Kaze a fantastic chance to get a good look at the effects his additions were having on the other man. The silver haired knight had never been particularly outstanding when it came to muscle mass, but he was at least a little above your average.

But now, where there had just been a small roll of flesh at his middle, there was a rather proper belly blossoming. That little bit of softness had risen like dough into a chubby midsection, still firm from his activities but clearly showing that he’d been getting well-fed lately. Where his belly curved out at the navel, it had the cutest bounce when he moved. It wasn’t anywhere near large enough to knock into his thighs yet, but it did create a nice rolling slab of chub that pinched in at his sides if he moved a certain way. But, Kaze was sure that when the man sat, that soft curve of his lower belly likely had started to brush the plushness of his thighs. His upper body was still fairly defined, though his pecs were rounding out nicely and there were some softer edges coming in on his upper arms and his face.

Well-fed.

That description sent a wave of heat down the back of the ninja’s neck, his unnoticed gaze burning hot as he took in every curve and rounded edge. Silas’ pale skin was flushed a delightful pink, both from the sun and the physical activity of getting in some training. Kaze wondered, vaguely, if he were to grab hold of that soft, pink belly, how would it feel? If he were to caress it gently, would the other even notice? Would he finally see, if he were to squeeze?

No, that would risk ruining the game when it was just picking up.

---

Kaze decided to add another layer to their little game, even if Silas was unaware that they were playing one. It had proven far too easy to keep adding food to the other man’s meals, so on top of constantly making those meals bigger, Kaze began coming up with excuses for giving Silas food in between the usual meal times.

It was easy enough to convince the other man to eat something after training sessions. After such physical strain, it was best to replenish the body with some food, was it not? Silas never seemed to notice that Kaze himself didn’t adhere to this supposed fact, or that the portions of food he was being given were far larger than needed to replace whatever his body had burned through while training. It was a little more difficult to get him to eat when he was out on patrols, as he stated that he wanted to be ready to fight at a moment’s notice if he needed to, but if he were on late night patrols, Kaze could more easily coax him into taking a small break to eat -- especially if he agreed to keep an eye out while the knight dug into his food.

More and more, any free time Silas had seemed to be taken up by food. He was a frequent face at the mess hall, and even when he wasn’t there at meal times, he always conveniently seemed to have food on hand -- and constantly stuffed in his chubby face.

And it was all because of Kaze. He was there, every step of the way, watching and providing and biding his time. As deliciously excruciating as the wait had been, Kaze was ready to claim his prize.

“Hey, Kaze…,” Silas hesitantly broached, his round cheeks flushed red -- from embarrassment, or from huffing and puffing his way through the camp, Kaze could only guess at. “I have a little bit of a problem. Well...Little is probably not the right word--”

Kaze inclined his head, to denote that he was still listening to the knight ramble on, but he would privately admit, he was more focused on accounting for all the new weight that had settled in so well on the Nohrian’s frame.

For the most part, Silas was very well rounded; it gave him a pleasant, overall plush sort of look. His face was cherubic, with round, red cheeks and a softened jawline that dipped into a double chin that looked all too natural on his kind face. It hadn’t taken too long after Kaze had ramped up his feedings for Silas’ upper body to sort of catch up to the rest of him; his upper arms still clung to a slight firmness, but that also might have simply been from how tightly they were squeezed into the sleeves of the shirt he was currently wearing, his now rather hefty looking moobs similarly looking quite confined in his struggling shirt. He hadn’t even bothered -- or couldn’t, a thought that delighted Kaze -- done up the laces at the front, which left some of that pale, fat titfflesh free to jostle for an escape attempt that was truly only hampered by whatever integrity was left of this formerly well-fitting piece of clothing.

Of course, as his eyes traveled lower, it was clear to see that the shirt was...much less of a shirt, and more of a crop top that was just adequate enough to contain his moobs. Because, really, gloriously, Silas’ gut could no longer be contained by something so trivial. His upper belly was round and almost taught -- likely from the large breakfast he’d spent a good two hours shoveling into his hoggish mouth -- becoming a perfect resting shelf for his squishy breasts. While his lower belly, separated from the upper by a swelling roll of fat, hung lower and softer on his expanded frame. It quite easily draped over the other man’s crotch, even while standing, and almost every heavy breath or lumbering movement made it wobble just so. Stretch mark covered love handles fought for room at his sides, perched precariously atop widened hips that had the most luscious curves to them thanks to plentiful food and all of the horse riding that had given him such a nice form to begin with.

His thighs were nothing short of powerfully built, even with the thick layer of lard that now encased them. And, my...his ass really was something to behold; a beautiful bubble butt, straining the ass of his trousers so dearly, Kaze felt like he could almost hear the seams splitting as they stood there.

“--So, do you...do you think you could help?”

The ninja blinked, coming out of his hungered staring to just catch the tail end of whatever Silas had been talking about.

“Yes, of course. I will do my best to aid you, my friend,” he responded swiftly, not even realizing what he was agreeing to until the other man dragged him over to the neatly organized set of his armor.

Oh. Oh, well now, this was better than he could have hoped, really. Silas had recruited him to do what he’d been desiring for months now.

“I’d do it myself, of course, but...uh, I’ve been having some recent trouble reaching around to some of the straps and buckles,” Silas chuckled nervously, his already flushed face seeming to go a deeper red at this admission.

Ah, so he’d finally noticed just how large his eating habits had made him? Fascinating that it had taken so long, but denial could be a powerful thing.

“It’s not a problem,” Kaze assured in a smooth tone of voice, waiting for Silas to start attempting to put on his armor. The breastplate and backplate came together via leather straps at the shoulders and sides, tightened and held in place by rather standard looking buckles. As Silas held the plate armor in place, Kaze tried to secure the straps. And, truly, he did try -- where was the fun if he didn’t get to see what an absolute mess the other man had made of himself with his lack of control, aided by his own pampering and spoiling with food and treats aplenty? He tugged on the straps as hard as he could, smiling softly to himself at the little noises Silas’ tried to stifle at the jostling and how the knuckles of his fingers couldn’t escape grazing or sinking into the warm flesh of the knight’s sides. If he pulled both sides tight enough, he could get the straps to touch, but nowhere near close enough to actually secure them with the buckle.

Kaze couldn’t resist pinching at the silver haired man’s love handles, apologizing and excusing it off as the metal from the buckle catching him by accident.

“It’s no use, is it…?” Silas sighed, cheeks puffing out just a little more from the simple act.

Kaze gave him a sympathetic look as he helped him remove the much outgrown piece of armor, his hand coming to pat the other on the back. “We can always get you refitted. It might have a slightly different style, but our blacksmiths are quite skilled; I’m sure they could replicate it to your tastes, if you so wish.”

The Nohrian seemed about to say something else, but Kaze chose now to make his kill, as it were. His tone and demeanor not shifting from gentle and comradely, he very brazenly brought a gloved hand to the other’s stomach, his thumb hooking easily into Silas’ navel as he grabbed a handful of chub and gave him an exploratory squeeze. It was just as soft as he’d imagined, but there was a firm layer to it too, if he dug his fingers in hard enough, that he found to be quite pleasant. A nice balance.

Humming softly to himself, Kaze continued his tactile exploration while urging them both forward in the direction of the mess hall. “I would greatly desire to see how long it would take you to outgrow a larger set of armor…”

If Silas could keep from giving in to Kaze’s offerings of food long enough to even have another set made before he ate his way out of it, that is.

Silas, sputtering and doing his best to keep up with the revelation, didn’t object to the idea nor did he fight against where Kaze was leading him.

#male weight gain #male wg #chubby!silas #kaze/silas #it was fun to kinda tap into that voyeuristic/secret feeding stuff #especially since kaze is such a bland good guy sort of character #i could totally see him having this habit of watching people #but hey i hope this is decent! #fates & the more recent games really arent in my wheelhouse #but i know fates better than 3h so i did the silas prompt over the raphael one

[remmushound]

Damage, part 5; the Hogosha

@errorfreak88 @brightlotusmoon

Splinter did his best. Ever since that night he had first gotten the boys, he tried his to do right by them. To feed them. To teach them. To encourage them. To make them happy. He always made an effort to go out of his way for their wants and needs, because that’s what a father does. He made an effort to make them laugh and ask how they were doing. To touch them and to kiss them and to love them and make them know they were loved. It was times like this that made it so difficult.

He didn't care about his own wounds. The pain was nothing compared to the pride he felt for his sons. Raphael, for tossing himself on top of Donatello and protecting the younger shinobi with everything he had. Leonardo for fighting with all he had to protect Michelangelo. Michelangelo for being so strong and so willing and eager to recover. And Donatello, for dragging each and every one of them from their deathbeds and giving them a second chance at life.

The old mutant slowed as he passed by Michelangelo’s room. Drawn on by the sound of voices, the shinobi father couldn’t help but press his ear to the door to listen.

“... telling you, it’ll work!” Leonardo’s voice was heard above all, “Trust me, Raph will love it!”

“A suggestion if I may?”

Donatello’s voice came as a surprise to Splinter and drew the old rat even further into the conversation. Donatello didn't wait for an answer.

“We’re talking about Raph, right? Our Raph? The Raph that regularly busts through walls and ears glass? That Raph?”

“Yep! That’s the one!” Michelangelo’s voice chirped.

“Then foam and cloth just isn’t gonna cut it.”

“Well what do you suggest, big brain?” Leonardo asked.

“Well there have been significant successes with 3D printing bones for transplant, and even an example of a turtle shell being printed successfully! Maybe we do that? Except with the section of shell Raph is missing.”

“Oh oh oh!” Michelangelo chirped his normal ‘I have a question’ noise.

“Yes Michael?”

“Maybe we do both! You do your printy-thing and then we put some foam over it to make it more comfortable and then we add the cloth!”

Donatello hummed. “Hm. Sounds doable. Though we may have to build a framework out of wire to support the foam so it doesn’t shift too much and cause irritation. And several layers of cloth so we can secure it properly to the framework—“

“Yeah yeah yeah, less talky more doey!”

“Hey! Do you have any idea how long it’s gonna take?! I can’t do it snappy-snappy!”

“Why not?!”

It made Splinter’s heart soar to hear the bickering of his sons carrying on in the other room. They sounded happy, and most importantly they were awake, and together. He wiped his beady eyes as he walked away, tail swishing his euphoria as the newfound hope made this day one of the best in months.

When night came, Splinter didn't need alarms or clocks or the chore chart to tell him what to do. He just did what fathers do, like he always had. He knocked on Raphael’s door before entering.

“Oh! Hey pops!” Raphael’s tail wagged at the sight of his father. He was sat at his vanity looking at himself in the mirror like he often did.

“Hello Raphael.” Splinter’s wrinkled face split in a smile as he walked over to Raphael, tisking his tongue along the way as his tail swept through trash and collected it. “Really, Raphael? Four water bottles? You’re turning your room into a pigsty!”

“Goodnight to you too, pops.” Raphael laughed, closing his eye as Splinter heaved himself up the snapping turtle’s arm to kiss him on the cheek.

“Honestly, I don’t think you need this old thing anymore.” Splinter mused as he helped Raphael untie his shell cover and folded it on the nightstand.

“Donnie’s orders.” Raphael laughed.

“Well I say you’re perfectly healed.” Splinter eyed the scars curiously, “And if anything, the scars make you look badass.”

Raphael’s shoulders shook as he bellowed. “Thanks dad.”

Splinter smiled and nosed playfully against his son's cheek a moment before giving the mutant a gentle tap with his tail.

“Now scoot! It’s bedtime!”

“Dad, I’m almost sixteen.” Raphael said, “I think I can choose my own bedtime now.”

Splinter raised his brow.

Raphael started to sweat almost immediately. “Uh— I mean— yes. Right. Bed time.”

“Good boy.” Splinter pat Raphael’s shoulder as the snapper lurched over to his bed. “Remember: I didn't put the fear of God in you, I put the fear of rat!”

Raphael climbed into bed and churred happily as Splinter came over to tuck him in and give him his teddy bear.

“There we are… Good night, little Red.”

*****

“Oh Baby Blue~” Splinter poked his nose into Leonardo’s room, “I’m respecting your privacy by knocking, but asserting my authority as your father by coming in anyway!”

Splinter blinked as he saw the state of his son. Leonardo was on his bed, having tried to remove his day clothes by himself and failed miserably. Somehow, he had managed to get his head stuck in the arm hole and his arm locked at an odd angle in the head hole, his trousers hanging half-off.

“Help me.”

Splinter couldn’t hide his laughter as he helped his son undress the rest of the way and assisted in helping him put on his pajamas.

“There we are, silly boy.” Splinter rubbed Leonardo’s head before putting the turtles nightcap on. “Now, I know you like magic, but you’re not quite Houdini status yet.”

Leonardo snapped. “Darn! I’ll get there one day!”

Splinter hummed his agreement and used his tail to open Leonardo’s bedside drawer and pull out a soft, blue sleeve. He gently slid it over Leonardo’s wounded arm and secured it before giving the nub a kiss, and then kissing Leonardo on the head.

“Thanks dad.”

“Anything for my little one.”

****

“Orange~ why, would you look at that?”

Michelangelo was already snug in his bed, dressed in his sleeping onesie and clutching a story book with a bright smile on his face.

“Someone was ready for me.” Splinter pulled himself onto the bed and took the book from Michelangelo, clearing his throat as he started to read. “In a warm and sultry forest far far away, there lived a mother fruit bat and her new baby. Oh, how Mother Bat loved her soft, tiny baby. “I’ll name you Stellaluna.” she crooned…”

By the end of the story, Michelangelo was snoring softly. Splinter carefully crept from the bed and slid the book back into its place before giving Michelangelo a kiss on the head.

“Love you, my son. Sweet dreams…”

****

Splinter always left Donatello last. Not out of malice, of course! Donatello just needed the most comfort, the most time! And it wouldn’t be fair to make the other brothers wait so long for their fathers affection. But now the rest of his sons were tucked safely away, Splinter crept into the softshell’s room with a gentle knock.

“Donatello? Purple?”

Donatello was laying in his bed with his back turned to the door. Splinter hummed and quickly approached the bed, laying a hand on his son's shoulder.

“I hope you didn't think I forgot about you.”

“No.” Donatello’s voice was soft and somber.

Splinter cleared his throat and shifted himself onto the bed, pulling the blanket over Donatello’s head and starting to hum softly as he traced his paws across his son’s arm and shell bridge in a comforting manner, like he always did when they were turtle tots.

“Mori mo iyagaru, Bon kara saki-nya. Yuki mo chiratsuki-shi. Ko mo naku-shi…”

Donatello grabbed Splinter’s hand and held it while he started to hum along to the lullaby.

“Bon ga kita-tote, nani ureshi-karo… Katabira wa nashi, obi wa nashi…”

Splinter sang the lullaby to its entirety and, though Donatello was still awake by the end of it, neither father nor son made any attempt to leave or interrupt the comfort of each other's presence. They both fell asleep together.

****

“Keep your eyes closed! Keep 'em closed! Closed closed closed closed closed!”

“They’re closed, Mike!” Raphael bellowed his laughter at the eager young mutant that covered both Raphael’s eyes while sitting on his shoulders. “What’s the surprise!”

“Wait for it! Wait for it!”

“The suspense is killing me!”

“NOW!”

Michelangelo pulled his hands away with a happy squeak and Raphael opened his eyes. Raphael blinked a few times to get used to the light again before he processed what was in front of him. Leonardo and Donatello, both smiling as they held a large something between them.

The prosthetic piece was an impossibly bright red color, the cloth some of the most vibrant Raphael had ever seen! There were several ridges on it and Raphael’s eyes widened when he recognized the shapes from his shell. He looked back at his shell, then to the prosthetic, then back at his shell.

“Tadaaa~” Michelangelo jumped from Raphael’s shell, landing with a loud grunt, and did jazz hands.

“It’s made of reinforced acrylic— it’s not as strong as your actual shell, but strong enough to take a solid hit.” Donatello explained, “I wanted to make it a more natural color, but Nardo here insisted it stay red.”

“What? Red is totally his color!” Leonardo scoffed, “the Kanji was Mikey’s idea— figured Bo-su was most suited to you.”

“And Donnie made sure the measurements were right so it could fit over your shell!” Michelangelo squeaked, “Do you like it?”

Raphael didn't answer. He couldn’t answer, not for an uncomfortably long time. And when he did answer, it wasn’t with words. It was with a loud, whimpering squeal as he scooped all three brothers in for a hug and crushed them against his chest.

“I love it…” Raphael nuzzled each brother in turn, “And I love you all so much…”

#splinter is best dad #not the last time that lullaby is gonna be used #wholesome #finally done #over 7000 words #worth it #splinters the hogosha #he protecc his boys #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #donatello #donnie #leo #leonardo #Raphael #raph #Michelangelo #Mikey #splinter

[fanfic-inator795]

RotTMNT drabble: It’s... probably a phase

((Had this silly idea a while ago, but I was suddenly inspired to write it out for funzies. Hope you all enjoy! ^v^))

No matter how many times he saw it, Mikey was sure that he was NEVER going to get tired of seeing the Hidden City. The unique architecture, the bright colors, the dragons and giant birds flying all over the place - it was AMAZING!

Not to mention all the various locations that he still had to see and explore - like the Hidden City Mall! Maybe for any other teenager, a mall would have been mundane - boring, even. But not for Mikey. Not when he had been given permission to explore the mall by himself as long as he remembered to text his fam every few hours, and especially not when it was so different than the malls he'd see on TV. In a way, it was like some of the shōtengai (or commercial districts) they had in Japan, according to their dad. Rather than being confined into one building, it was instead a long stretch of road that was covered with tiles on the ground, had large and open entrances and exits onto the street, and a curved roof above (making it seem a bit more 'indoor' than a marketplace or the Pirate Bazaar down by the docks).

"Coooooool~!" Mikey grinned, his pace increasing as he walked inside. There were plenty of different shops to browse through, from the specialty to the common. Some sold food and pharmacy others while others sold clothes, toys and knick-knacks. There was a shop full of scrolls and tombs, a shop for crystals and mystic gems, and even a pretty neat antique shop! But, as Mikey began heading towards a stand-up noodle bar for a quick lunch, a store that seemed to be covered in shadows quickly caught his attention instead.

The walls of the shop were painted black, with only covered candles providing any sort of life. The letters above the shop were written in Yokai-ese, but just based on the blood red color and the way they were written, Mikey could still tell that the shop was going for a 'hardcore' vibe. A bit intimidating maybe, but also interesting - interesting enough for him to walk inside, the orange of his bandana and the colorful stickers on his chest instantly making him stand out against the racks of black and dark colored clothing and the silver, spiky jewelry on display.

...Huh. So the Hidden City had goths and punks. Who knew?

Since the shop didn't have too many customers at the moment, it was that much easier for the two employees currently on duty to notice him. "Uhhh, you lost, kid?" one of them - a grey-furred hound with a pretty wicked nose ring and a black poncho with several chains hanging off it - asked, raising an eyebrow at the young box turtle.

"Oh, no," Mikey said, giving him a friendly smile, "I'm just browsing."

The other employee - a snake girl with purple scales and red highlights in her slightly spiked hair - chuckled. "You sure this is the store you wanna be browsing in?" she asked him, sticking her tongue out a bit, "There is a kimono shop just a few stores down that seems a little more... your style."

"Already saw it," Mikey replied, "And yeah, they were really nice! Really colorful too - but wayyyy out of my price range." He picked up a couple shirts, looking them over before putting them back. "But hey, this stuff is really cool too!"

"Hmph, oh really?" the hound asked dryly. Great, another poser. Just what they needed. "And just what is so 'cool' about it?"

"Lots of things!" Mikey grinned, "Though, I guess what I really enjoy about the goth style is how you guys are able to use a limited palette to not only express yourself, but still make something really unique and memorable! Don't get me wrong, I LOVE all sorts of bright and warm colors, but expressing yourself with only one or two colors that really mean a lot to you, and being able to focus on just them while still being able add so much style to that one palette is pretty impressive! And pretty cool too, if I do say so myself! I really love the way you guys use metals and stuff to catch the light and catch people's attention." He picked up a spiked collar, admiring it. "Plus, it just looks really sick."

"..." The two employees shared a look before smiling at each other. "Huh... I guess when you put it that way, it is pretty cool," the snake agreed, actually looking sort of touched by Mikey's comments, "I mean, for record, being goth is about wayyyyy more than just the fashion. But, hey, I can hang with someone who can respect and appreciate the aesthetic without being shallow about it."

"Yeah, and you know... if you like the style that much, I think you could pull it off," the hound added.

Mikey's eyes went sparkly at that. "Really?!"

"Sure, kid! We've got some stuff that would look great on you!" "Aaaand, I think we could let you use our employee discount too. Since you're, you know, cool."

"Sweet!" Mikey grinned, pumping his fist in the air, "What are we waiting for? Let's make me over! Goth style~!"

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

Splinter had been planning on texting his youngest during the next commercial break, but before he could even reach for his phone, he heard Mikey call out from the lower level. "Hey, Pop! I'm home!"

"Oh good, I was just wondering when you would get back," Splinter replied, "So, did you have fun shopping?"

"Yeah, it was great! You wanna see what I bought?"

Splinter chuckled. "Oh, I suppose." That was enough to make Mikey race towards the TV room, his steps quick and obviously excited. Sitting up a bit, Splinter wondered what it was his youngest could have bought. Some fancy and fun new hat, maybe? Orange did always like playing dress-up. All of his boys did, really. They must have gotten that from him. Or maybe it was something in his favorite color? Or maybe-

He heard a small grunt behind him as Mikey lifted himself onto the second floor. "Tada! Take a look at me!"

"Okay okay, let's see-" Splinter looked over his shoulder, and his eyes nearly bulged right out of his head. He sputtered a bit before finally managing to shout, "Who are you and whAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BABY BOY ORANGE?!”

Mikey tilted his head at his father. "Huh? Dad, it's me. I just got a new look"

Splinter narrowed his eyes a bit. It certainly sounded like his Orange, but...

Mikey's mask had been dyed completely black, only the tips of his mask tails remaining orange. He was wearing a black tank top with a spiked collar and long, fingerless black gloves. Hanging over his shoulders and shell, covering up his bright yellow spots, was a black trenchcoat. His dark cargo pants had been spray painted with orange at the bottom of each leg cuff, almost looking like flames, and heavy black boots tied it all together.

"Come on, Pop! Don't I look great?" Mikey asked, holding up a 'rock and roll' gesture. ...Or, at least he was trying to. It was sort of hard to do with only three fingers. "I saw this goth store in the Hidden City, and I just HAD to give it a try! Don't you think it looks cool?"

"Er, w-well, ah..." Mikey frowned, disappointment starting to creep on his face.

...Well, that settled it. He may have looked very VERY different, but this was no rebellious phase or sudden change in his otherwise cheery attitude. He was still his son - still the same box turtle Splinter knew and love. "I think you look very, ah, unique!" Splinter told him, "And, uh, veeeeery fashionable and cool!"

Mikey grinned. "Awww, thanks Dad!"

"Hey, are you guys screaming in he-WHOA!" they heard Raph say from the atrium, “Mikey? Is that really you?!”

Mikey laughed, amused at his oldest brother's expression. "Yep! It's really me, baby!" Thankfully, Donnie and Leo didn't seem as shocked, though they were still mildly surprised.

“Huh… You know, out of all of us, I thought for sure Donnie would be the one who’d have a goth phase,” Leo said.

His twin shrugged. “Eh, my natural aesthetic is more high school prep meets cyberpunk.”

As Mikey ran off to give his brothers a closer look at his new goth duds, Splinter gave a small sigh. He would always try to support his sons and give anything that they cared about - whether it be likes, hobbies or even fashion - a chance, and he would continue doing that for the sake of his boys and their feelings... But a small part of him couldn't help but hope that Mikey's 'goth phase' didn't last TOO long.

Later that night, he received a text from Draxum - and surprisingly, this one wasn't some complaint or request. From the Baron's perspective, it was actually positive!

"Lou Jitsu - I know we don't always agree, but for the record, I also approve of Michelangelo's 'new look'. Very intimidating... A good starting point for a young warrior... Plus, all the black fits in with his ninja side. A win-win as it were, right?"

Splinter could only groan.

#rottmnt #my writing #silly stuff #michelangelo tmnt #splinter tmnt #alt title for this: Mikey goes to yokai!Hot Topic

[annoying-lucy]

Evan Evagora did an AMA involving the Star Trek Shitposting Facebook Group - the questions and answers below were copy/pasted direct from the collated master post. Evan is a member of the group, who participates under an unknown pseudonym.

———————————————

AMA Master Post!

Thanks so much to Evan Evagora for taking time out of his day for our AMA earlier. To make the questions and answers easier for ya'll to find, here they all are together below.

Q: How does my love of cats compare to Elnor?

A: Im actually more of a dog person, there was a scene that had Elnor and spot 2 unite briefly but unfortunately it didn’t leave the editing room

Q: How familiar was I with Star Trek before and did I have to do research?

A: I grew up with TNG, I’d have to say either worf, Guinan or Q are my favourite characters. And I was given episodes to watch that were to help with information before filming Picard

Q: How was I prepped to deal with the crazy fans?

A: I got told to join Star Trek shitposting 😉. Not but in all seriousness, it was Jonathan Frakes who gave me advice on entering the world of fandom from the other side and he said it’s been nothing short of a pleasure

Q: So if Hugh had survived would they have made out?

A: what happens on the cube stays on the cube

Q: My favourite moment of s1

A: getting to slice that romulans head off

Q: How did I hear about Star Trek shitposting?

A: most of the crew is either a part of the group or knows about, one of the amazing hair and make up ladies got me into I think my first or second day

Q: If I had to be Tuvixed with someone excluding elnor?

A: mirror verse Elnor, nah worf to be honest

Q: What is something I’d like to do in season 2

A: Id like to see Elnor and spot 2 together

Q: How am I passing my time woth quarantine?

A: ama for the gronp! Nah I’ve just been reading, writing and also the contact I’m having with the fans too has really helped a lot

Q: If I had to quarantine with any of my costars who would it be and why

A: I’d go with hardy treadaway he’s got the nicest place

Q: What am I hoping to see in Elnor’s future

A: Inner peace, contentment and possibly shorter hair?

Q: Am I intimidated by working on a show with such a big fan base?

A: no I grew up with Star Trek, you’re really in a bubble of filming when you’re making the show, it all didn’t really hit home until the first trailer at San Diego

Q: Would I consider playing Elnor as non binary

A: I’ve seen a lot of debate and discussion about not only my character but others in the series, if there is something that connects you with a character on this show and it resonates with you, even if it’s shown, not shown or hinted at I’m all for it. I am not for the constant belittlement, bullying and criticism of not only the characters on the show but also other fans. It really does break my heart reading comments where people aren’t welcoming of one another, because that is the whole reason why Trek has bought so many together and by spewing these disgusting cruel words out your not only showing the world you don’t understand the meaning behind the show, you also are destroying the thing that makes us all love it

Q: Is there Australia on romulas

A: yeah they have a down under I’m sure of it. No the accent can easily be explained with, Elnor left romulas at a young age, moved to a planet with different species and languages spoken so that influenced his accent

Q: Have I seen Elnor fan fiction and art?

A: yeah some of it has been really amazing! And some others have been...creative

Q: How excited am I to make home movies with my action figures?

A: my plan is to buy everyone’s, make them record audio and then film shit using the dolls and their voices

Q: Are you playing animal crossing?

A: I’ve preordered it because they’ve sold out here in aus, but in playing civ 6 to pass time and Mario party

Q: Did I get to try Romulan ale?

A: no I wish, I’m kind of hoping for a scene next year where Elnor gets drunk for the first time

Q: What character did I wish would appear in our show?

A: one word, one letter Q

Q: What’s my background have I been acting long?

A: Picard was my third acting gig, and the first project to release, so I have got some experience acting and I have previous work but it has either just aired or is going to next year

Q: Please my friend choose a charity you would like us to donate to

A: food bank

Q: Favourite ninja turtle

A: it’s always been Raph and always will be

Q: Do I know much about Elnors background

A: I know things that haven’t been mentioned yet, but also given his character is new and season 1 just finished, hopefully some of those things are explored

Q: How would o feel about the fan theory that Spock is my father

A: I mean, I’m not really sure, I can always shoot Ethan a message and ask him what he thinks too

Q: Which classic episode trope would I like to see?

A: mirror universe

Q: Can we look forward to more ninja representation?

A: is Elnor not enough? ☹️

Q: Were there any particular characters I drew inspiration from, any elves?

A: there’s a particular group of people I think Elnor might have been inspired from. Can I just say how cool it would be if Elnor is just cosplaying as an elf because Picard left him a copy of Lotr when he was young

Q: Would I be open to exploring Elnors sexuality in s2 and what would it be?

A: I am totally open for that, and as for Elnors sexuality, I’m not sure he’s only 17 he’s just left his planet and gone off on an adventure where he openly knew the success may lead in his death or others he hasn’t had time to figure himself out so seeing his sexuality explored would be amazing

Q: What stories did you hear about working on precious trek series from the OG actors?

A; So we found out Michael Dorn used to muddle his lines up because he was normally the last close up of the day. They used to put bets on to see how many takes he’d have to do. All I must add in very fun spirits nothing ever malicious or mean

Q: My long term career goals

A: id like to keep pursuing more roles I’m acting, I’m a big writer and have some projects I’m looking at getting created but right now I’d say I’m just here to learn and grow

Q: What do I write?

A: right now I’m working on three screenplays and two pilots most of the stuff I’ve written is just sitting on my hard drive just waiting to be used

Q: Ever fried an egg, buttered and vegemite'd some toast and eaten it like a sandwich?

A: what I just read, scared the crap out of me, I love vegemite but the most I’ll do is add cheese to it

Q: What is one of my favourite stories about s1

A: Jeri Ryan and I had a scene together in the borg cube (what a queen she made!) it was shooting at night and I think it was the final shot of the day, we couldn’t keep a straight face and just laughed through about fifteen takes

Q: Are you a big fan of fandom besides Trek?

A: Star Wars, lotr, the magician series Raymond e feist, a song of fire and ice series, avatar last air bender and legend of Korra (would love to play zuko) and of course Batman (fav Jason Todd as the hood)

Q: Could I see myself playing Elnor for six or seven years?

A: as long as there’s a good story that myself and fans will enjoy, but if it didn’t meet my expectations no. And also hopefully the writers and creators would want to

Q: My top TNG eps are in no particular order

I borg, all good things, tapestry, the measure of a man and all good things

I’ll also add I borg especially because it’s just cool seeing where Hugh began and how he ended up

Q: How did I land the role of Elnor?

A: I was on a break from filming Fantasy Island (a movie based off the old tv show) and I was home for pilot season which is when they cast for shows, I had two weeks of daily auditions before I was due to fly back and start filming again, two days before I was meant to leave I got an audition for Picard, the script had a code name and Elnors name was Kbar on it, but I was told it was Star Trek. I went into the room and thought I didn’t do a very good job, then I flew to film and two days later I was told I’ve made a list of people being considered, after a few more auditions and a couple of phone calls from producers and everything I found myself on a plane to LA five weeks later

Q: Have I made friends among the cast?

A: no, we tried really hard to become friends, but unfortunately we ended up becoming a family instead. Everything we say in interviews about us getting along is all true and not fake. I’m the newest to acting out of everyone so I was kind of of shocked to find out that how close we all are isn’t necessarily how it will be when I shoot other projects, so I think we just got lucky or they casted really well

Q: Have the Picard people seen your memes?

A: yes I’ve shown them the memes from the page, I’ve shown everyone including Patrick we find most of them funny (some shocking)

Not shocking in a bad way

Unexpected I should say

Q: How do I feel about the ears?

A: I wore them so much they came up in my dreams, but they were the easiest thing to apply onto me

Q: Which non tng character would I like to see return?

A: I wouldn’t mind seeing the doctor

Q: The most relatable Star Trek character?

A: Look for me growing up it was Wesley, i just picked anyone who was the young one. And I grew up with my sisters and was always being told I’m either wrong, an idiot or just to shut up

Q: Did I have previous martial arts experience before the show?

A: I have a background in boxing which helps when it comes to movement, reflexes and just all around fitness for stunts. I didn’t have any sword fighting experience before we began training for the show however

Q: How do you think being raised by an order of women affected Elnor?

A: I think it gave him a healthy understanding of not only the strength and resilience of women but I think he understands not only gender equality but just equality in general and I think that’s directly to do with growing up in a sect of all female warrior nuns

Q: What is a type of meme you would like to see more of in the group?

A: I love all the memes in the group, I hardly like any of them now incase someone figures out who I am though ahahah

Q: Favorite recent memes?

A: See my comment below

#evan evagora #star trek #star trek: picard #picard #elnor #ama #stsp

[lulusoblue]

Headcanon: Casey Jones being on the Autistic Spectrum

I see plenty of neurodivergent headcanons for the turtles galore, but never for any of the human characters. In all honestly, saying one of the turtles is on the autistic spectrum is iffy and uncomfortable to me at least because it’s sorta implying that said autism would be the result of a mutation caused by an external element. Because it’s not like we’ve had shit over some dickhead portraying autism as a side effect of vaccination rather than it being a mental disorder that’s as embedded in our genes and beings as internal organs and a massive part of who we are as people. also fuck you wakefield

And so thinking about it more, it just clicked that Casey could fit an autistic headcanon. So here’s a list of things about his character I believe fit such a headcanon based on personal experience and from other autistic people I’ve known:

• Apparently the writers put him at around 17 years old, a year older than April, with some intent that he might have been held back during his education (probably to tie into him seeking April for tutoring). I don’t have any knowledge of American education beyond secondhand information I may see on the internet or pop up on my dash, so my only knowledge of being autistic in a learning system built around neurotypical students is from brief personal experience. Neurotypical education sucks when there isn’t enough awareness of learning difficulties or the teachers don’t have enough training to know how to handle it. Casey might have trouble with his education because he may have difficulties trying to pay attention and absorb information without the tools or support to help him focus. This can get you labelled as just bad behaviour or being dumb/stupid. I sure as hell wasn’t able to follow lessons in school until I finally had someone who listened to why I didn’t like lessons and found them hard to understand. We don’t have any clue as to when Casey was held back if this concept still applies in canon, but being held back might not mean he just didn’t care to study or doesn’t have the smarts to pass. Granted it gets harder to care about learning when you have trouble understanding and your educators don’t bother to help you so much as call you lazy. Which brings me to my next point.

• Casey’s interests and knowledge in gadgets, vehicles, and metalwork. The boy knows his stuff when it comes to Mad Max-looking makeshift weaponry and devices, which is clear from his decked out bike and the crude taser that he’s managed to strap to his arm without frying himself. He worked with Donnie to rig up a supercar as a hobby and helped pimp up the Party Wagon. And he’s still flunking trig. (so’s April but shhhhh that was just a Season 1 thing) Casey seems like a very visual learner in this case: he picks up on things through observation and is self-taught on what interests him. For all we know he figured out cars while being cooped up on a farm with nothing better to do while one of his terrapin friends was in a coma. I’ve ended up doing that with some programs I use or with life stuff in general. Manuals are boring and slow and easy to lose focus on. Maybe look up a couple of video tutorials for something but most of building skills and interests is self-teaching and trial-and-error. (my experience of video editing and art programs is “what’s this do and can i figure out what makes it tick without looking it up”, which is an approach to new interests I think also fits Casey). Likely not something specific or common in autistic people, but figuring things out in such a way has been a thing that popped up for me and a couple of old friends. What I’m saying is Casey made that new mask after half-watching a couple of cosplay tutorials and winging it with some scrap.

• Casey wears those gloves and that headband all the damn time. Even when he’s eating pizza, he’s eating it wearing gloves that have probably been worn working on his bike, wielding a hockey stick/baseball bat that’s likely bashed sweaty heads in rain two weeks ago without being washed, and just the day-to-day things that would get those gloves sweaty or grimey or icky. He wears that headband at all times, even when he’s wearing a mask thank would probably fit better if he took that band of material off of his head. What do his headband and gloves also have in common? They’re articles of clothing that usually have elastic to stay in place. Sure canonically they’re just there to fit his grungy look (get to that hoodie in a second), but digging myself deeper into this headcanon i got to thinking they might also serve sensory/stimming purposes. If there’s something that I think is one thing autistic people have in common or a feeling they share, it’s fiddling/fidgeting and certain sensory things to some level: e.g. I usually wear loose tops because i like fiddling with the hems and corners of my clothing. Some people wear tight or loose clothing based on how they process the sensation of skin against different type of clothing. Casey never taking off his damn gloves or headband could be seen as him liking the sensation of the elastic in them around his wrists and forehead. He probably pings the elastic as well because that’s fun too when you’re bored and need to fiddle.

I refuse to believe that he has never washed that hoodie. I mean yeah the turtles have smelt worse living in a sewer but Casey is a Human who has spent most of his life around Humans and his Human father would probably have burnt his clothes by now if Casey never washed the stink out of them. That and Casey is a hockey player, and I imagine stinking clothes is an annoyance that comes from most sports. Those paint stains on his hoodie I think he’s leaving there on purpose, like he’ll wash his clothes but no dad his clothes get washed separate because he can’t wash his clothes with your clothes because you use stuff that lifts stains and that’ll get rid of the paint splats that he likes on his clothes and why does he want paint splats because he does and they look nice and he probably won’t get the same splatter pattern again if he tried and shush dad this hoodie stays the same because it has to because shut up. We don’t really see Casey tagging anything regularly so unless it’s because they don’t change the texture on animated models because what’s the point it’s not a cgi blockbuster we’re making here Casey probably keeps his paint splattered hoodie like that because it looks nice and it’ll stay nice dad. It’s a Thing.

• Casey constantly refers to a love of heavy metal music. Too much sound for an autistic person can end up in sensory overload and that fucking sucks. And in general just the world around you can suck and you wanna shut it out because ugh. You know what helps? Headphones and really loud music. What genre has really loud music? Yup.

Casey having a social battery. He just pops in and out of the show all the time because the writers dunno what do with him shrug so yeah. Autism likes to play up the variance of a person’s social needs and wants and limits. You want to be friends but you just can’t be asked to be with people right now. You get this surge of wanting to hang out with friends and be loud for a bit, and then you have this mood where you just want to not exist or just not do things. Basically like this:

“raph great to see you i love your face” “whatever weirdo”

[dude where are you] [home] [you’ve been at home for three days] [i’m waiting until i stop hating faces to talk in person again]

If anyone has any other things to add to this headcanon, please do share/add onto this post. Now if you’ll excuse me i’m gonna dig myself further into this headcanon.

EDIT: I forgot another point I wanted to put in and also @a-specforest added some cool addon tags so broski if you don’t mind imma put them here too

• #okay so one symptom of autism is speaking in ’pre learned phrases’ #and casey has a ton of catchphrases • #sometimes speaking in a tone that doesn’t match the conversation? #casey does that a lot too • #he seems to have a few hyperfixations #in season 2 he’s practicing hockey late by himself #and the working on cars that you mentioned

1) how else would he come up with Goongala of COURSE!!! That and pre-learned phrases are great to have when spontaneous speech is a bitch and you trip over words and stammer. not that i would know anything about that nooo We’ve already heard him muddle up words in the moment (I think he said jumbled up “racism” later in S4)

2) Tone control is something I’ve dealt with, too. Apparently I have resting bitch voice so I’ll say something and get asked if i’m in a bad mood or snapped at for “being rude”. Also knew other autistic people who would have ranges of tones in certain convos too, e.g. one always sounded happy and chipper and laughed a lot even when something wasn’t particularly funny, one person’s tone of voice went everywhere it was hard to tell what their feelings were even with the context of conversation. Casey’s attitude and tone in conversation, even serious ones, might be an indication of that, I agree.

3) Oh yeah, he definitely fits hyperfixation. There’s his hobbies, and also there’s how he sees his future. When he and April are in the park for their first study session, he’s got two clear ideas for what to do with his life; Hockey Star or Bounty Hunter. With him immediately trying to play hero when confronted with a walking talking tank of organs his bounty hunter fantasy may have something to do with it. He’s reckless and headstrong, but it also lends to his fixation on one of his dream careers; if fighting a monster that he’s confronted with something he sees as a step to bounty hunting, he’ll likely put up his dukes and get melted because ACID HANDS I have definitely known people who were determined on doing something because it was what they wanted. It might’ve come across as stubbornness or rigidness depending on what it (even something as simple as just doing something like a chore a certain way), but in context of ambitions and their future they were pumped as hell to take the steps they needed to take to do what they liked and what they wanted for themselves. They didn’t care about what people thought of them even if they didn’t pass as neurotypical and would get stares on the street. Not sure how they would react if say culinary career path involved fighting mutated food, but considering the show itself is an action-adventure cartoon with mutant turtles I think we can give Casey a pass on that lack of realism there. we begrudgingly give the writers passes all the time so why stop now

Aaaand the point i forgot to put in my original post:

• Casey’s less-than appropo reactions or attitudes in situations possibly links to difficulty reading people, being empathetic or understanding social cues/priorities. Reading and understanding facial expressions and body language can be a bitch if you’re autistic. There’s even a learning software program a couple of students from my school would use in one-to-one sessions that specifically addresses this for those who find it THAT hard to tell what another person is expressing. It’s especially troublesome because empathy can be a confusing thing too, because it can go from you not really having any empathy to you having so much that you think you’re hurting the feelings of a pair of shoes because you chose to wear something else that day which totally isn’t the extreme i experience at all hahaha help i’m mentally apologising to a boot Casey doesn’t appear to take things seriously in dangerous circumstances the majority of the time, nor does he appear considerate of others at other times. It’s a lot of confidence and certainty that things will turn out OK (with a heaping spoonful of “self preservation instinct what self preservation instinct”). It’s not always an appropriate attitude to make jokes and quips and tease and make jabs at people, but he HAS taken things seriously and shown worry/sadness at appropriate times. He’s really quiet and almost numb when the subject of his family’s fate comes up in Invasion, and he was surprisingly the only one to be most affected after watching someone get mOLECULARLY RIPPED APART. From experience, both personal and through observation, figuring out how to react and respond to things when you don’t really know how to is a pain in the ass and often distressing because you feel bad for not knowing. Sometimes you resort to humour to lighten things and try to ease tensions, sometimes you have an internal screaming match with yourself and panic and go through an archive of potential reactions because what the fuck would apply here, or sometimes you just shut down or just don’t react like it’s not really a big deal or even happening. Or you end up going through verbal barfing and dig yourself deeper into a hole of instant regret because you’re making yourself look like an ass when you don’t want to why is this so hARD. I think Casey would fall into the “address things with confidence and cockiness” kind of reaction pool, because it’s an attitude he’s comfortable with and how he better deals and processes things. It’s not to say he doesn’t have some empathy or disregard for other people’s feelings (hello Buried Secrets), it could be that it’s not comfortable territory for him even when he wants to be serious/emotionally supportive. did any of that come out right fffffffffU

• Casey’s small social circle and it possibly being by choice. His best friends are the girl who he met through tutoring in a subject she was failing before and four giant turtles who are trained in ninjutsu. He only mentions having one friend before, a friend with whom he had a falling out, and he didn’t seem to like Irma all that much (you can say it’s because “she’s a third wheel on dates” but even outside of that he didn’t seem to get along with her much). With things like hyperfixation and the like making a vast group of friends is tricky. Being autistic might mean the friends you choose to make have lots of interest in common with you rather than just being someone you get along with. Not to say being autistic means you are limited to a few friends. I’m no expert on autistic social lives, I can only draw from firsthand experience. I found trying to maintain a number of friendships difficult and often overwhelming so at some point in school I stopped trying to make friends, with the exception of a couple of people I liked and had common interests with. I chose to keep my social circle small because the thought of making lots of friends and keeping in touch with them all and remembering who likes who and what overwhelmed me and made me nervous as a child. Still kinda leaks into adulthood because I don't have many friends outside of the company I keep on tumblr. In this autistic headcanon, Casey’s very small social circle could be by choice. He doesn’t mention having any other friends besides one previously, fixates on April (and yes I am knocking the romantic aspect out the window for this) after approaching her for tutoring because he found her cool and likes hanging out with her (and probably saw kicking a mutant’s ass as common ground/bonding too), hung out with her even when a person he wasn’t keen on (Irma) was also there, and even when he’s introduced to the turtles and befriends them he still appears to be platonically closest to April arguably, depends on how the writers want to write him that week. Considering how the love triangle bullhockey has been given little to no reference as of late, his concern for April in Tokka vs the World and his annoyance at Leo’s teamup picks in Tale of Tiger Claw might be more because he can’t be with his favourite person. (and yes that can be a Thing too) He might also fixate on having April’s company because she isn’t much of a social butterfly herself outside of the friendly neighbourhood mutants living in the sewer. Compare how many times we see him hanging out with the turtles minus April versus when April is present.

#tmnt 2012 #casey jones (2012) #autistic casey headcanon #yes good #bonus his sister is also autistic #their interactions are just 'ugh' 'what' 'people' 'same'

[innuendostudios]

Video Games Are Better When We Don’t Get Prescriptivist About Storytelling

Oftentimes, when I read an essay by Ian Bogost, I start wondering which of the following is Ian Bogost’s deal:

A. Ian Bogost argues a position because he believes it. B. Ian Bogost argues a position because he thinks it’s interesting and he thinks he can argue it, without much interest in whether or not he believes it. C. Ian Bogost is the kind of Philosophy major who sees no difference between A and B.

I wondered this when his ostensible review of Flappy Bird argued that games are inherently ugly, and I wondered it recently in his new piece, ostensibly a review of What Remains of Edith Finch, which argues games are inherently bad at storytelling.

As a person who grew up on adventure games and last year spent forty hecking minutes talking about what games get right about storytelling that no other media do, you can imagine: I am so, so, so bored of this take.

I mean, hey, I appreciate that the next time some YouTube commenter says that my defenses of interactive narrative are arguing against a straw man, I have an article literally titled Video Games Are Better Without Stories to link them to. (Just kidding, I don’t read the comments.) But, honestly, someone writes this take every six months or so. This time it’s Ian Bogost, next time it will be Raph Koster or Frank Lantz. In game critics circles, we never really got past Ludology vs. Narratology, the debate where Ludologists insist that systems interaction and raw game design are what make games games, and Game Narratologists are fictional gremlins who live under the beds of Ludologists. Bogost's arguments aren’t particularly new.

Much of the substance of the article have already been pored over: Patrick Klepek pointed out that, whether or not you think games should tell stories, people are going to tell stories with games, so this argument is pointless. (Patrick’s piece also links to Danielle Riendeau’s Twitter dissection of Bogost’s piece, which goes through several of its major points.) Austin Walker followed up by pointing out that even a bad story can make a game better than it would be with no story at all. If you care about the history of these arguments, Errant Signal summed up why Ludologists keep tilting at windmills over two years ago, and Emily Short wrote some thoughts in 2011 when it was Jon Blow’s turn to make this argument. (Jon shows up in the comments and they have an... interesting back and forth.) And, for broader context, Elizabeth Sampat brought up how, if Ian Bogost were a woman, male gamers would certainly accuse him of trying to ban narrative games, but, since he’s a man, his arguments will probably be used by male gamers to dismiss narrative indie games.

Before I get to the thoughts I want to add to this discussion, I’ll focus on one of the better exchanges I saw on Twitter: Scott Benson brought up what we could call The Myth of the Medium Store: the Medium Store is the place where, once you’ve thought of a killer story you want to tell, you pick out the best medium for telling it. The Games Are Bad At Stories take typically stems from the idea that most game narratives would be better served had they picked a different medium from the Medium Store.

Scott points out that, in the real world, Medium Stores don’t exist. Giant Sparrow didn’t make What Remains of Edith Finch because they thought it would work better as a game than as a film; they made it as a game because they’re game designers. I run into this framing in my own work and it causes me all kinds of anxiety - why do I make video essays? Do I adequately justify the use of video in my work? Couldn’t I just write articles like a normal person? And I can come up with all kinds of answers to this question: video allows me to illustrate points in a matter of seconds that would take paragraphs to render in text; I think text is just as much a medium as video, and I don’t think most print articles have to justify their use of text; these days video reaches a wider audience than text does on the internet, which makes it a more viable medium for me. But these are all ways of answer a question that I no longer believe is worth asking. I make video essays because I’m a video essayist. In some fantasy world where anyone can become good at any medium, maybe I would choose print over video. But, in this world, with this brain I was stuck with, I am better at video essays than I am at writing articles. I enjoy it more. My writing works best when it’s meant to be read aloud. Video works for me. That’s reason enough.

And my favorite response to Scott’s tweets (included in the link above) was Carolyn Petit’s: “A movie with the same plot as Gone Home would be fundamentally [about] different things, or [about] the same things in fundamentally different ways.“

Carolyn says, in far fewer words that me, what I was trying to get at in the ending of Story Beats: it doesn’t matter whether you think the plot element of “main character makes friends with an inanimate object” works “better” in Castaway or Portal, because the two are accessing completely different sets of emotions in the audience. Watching Tom Hanks say goodbye to Wilson and throwing the Companion Cube in an incinerator yourself are not the same experience. Comparing them is like comparing a chicken egg to a Faberge egg; which is better? The question is meaningless. You can’t cook with a Faberge egg and you don’t leave a chicken egg on your mantle. They are superficially similar but they serve very different purposes.

(And after watching the Super Bunnyhop video about What Remains of Edith Finch’s Cannery level, I don’t understand how Bogost can argue that this scene would work better as a non-interactive film.)

So, most of the valid talking points having been picked over, what’s left for me to say?

I think what’s most frustrating to me about Bogost’s take, and takes of this kind, is that it’s easy. I should throw Bogost a bone and mention that he has authored some very, very good games writing in his time (and so have Koster, Lantz, and Blow). I don’t mean to sell him short. But writing off interactive narrative is and always has been intellectually lazy.

It’s not difficult to look at a medium and see what it has difficulty doing that another medium does well. Video games have trouble with pacing, with players who fuck with the system instead of roleplaying, and with branching narratives quickly becoming too unwieldy to author content for. Movies have none of these problems, so it’s very easy to point at these issues and say Edith Finch would be better as a movie.

What is much harder, and, to me, a lot more interesting, is articulating what a storytelling medium does well.

Yes, movies fair better than games in these areas: they have tight pacing, the protagonists stay in character, and their narratives are linear. But those qualities are not what makes movie stories good. We don’t walk out of a movie raving about how the story didn’t branch and the main character didn’t jump up and down on their sidekick’s head. What really makes a movie work at storytelling is often more intangible, and harder to fit into a pithy list of reasons why movies are better than video games at telling stories.

It would be just as easy, and just as intellectually lazy, to mount a defense of telling stories in novels and not in films. After all, films have a famously hard time adapting themselves from novels without drastic changes. Movies tend to be very external, where novels can easily give us a character’s thoughts, and the only (inelegant) solution most movies offer for this is voiceover. Movies tend to be capped at 2 hours, 3 tops unless you’re on the arthouse circuit, and that streamlining tends to be far, far less nuanced than a novel that may take the better part of a month to work through. But, again, no one says what makes novels great is that they are long and very internal - by that definition, Hemingway was a terrible writer.

What makes a medium good at storytelling is a set of mostly aesthetic reactions. What makes movies good at stories is their essence: moving pictures can do things that text can’t. Watching a semi-truck flip over in The Dark Knight works in a way it never would on the page, in the same way the narrative payoff at the end of Braid works in a way that it never would on the silver screen.

When we start talking about a medium’s essence, it’s tempting to get, well, essentialist: that if that hard-to-quantify something about games is interactivity, than games should focus on that interactivity to the exclusion of as much else as possible. Games are systems, so they should focus on systems, and systems work better when they aren’t hampered by stories. But, again, this is like saying a movie shouldn’t involve sound because sound is a radio thing, and shouldn’t involve words because that’s a book thing, and shouldn’t have actors because that’s a theater thing - motion pictures are at their best when they are just pictures and motion. This is, obviously, ludicrous. Games can be just as additive as any other medium. Games are moving pictures, and text, and music, and actors, and interactivity. Even a tiny amount of interactivity added to an otherwise mostly filmic experience can make all the difference - this is what makes The Walking Dead work.

We are acclimated to the ways that telling stories in any medium other than games is weird. Films never mounted a defense against “why isn’t this a novel?” We just raised a few generations of people with narrative films until they forgot to ask the question, until no one would think to ask such a dipshit question. Novels, movies, plays, radio dramas, operas, they all have their weirdnesses as storytelling media, we are just so acclimated to those weirdnesses that we don’t see them. We see past them to what makes them valuable.

I’ve spent the last couple months while I was finishing up school keeping myself level by playing a lot of adventure games. I love adventure games. If someone is giving me a lens through which something I love is worse, I will accept that lens if it reveals discrimination, racism, homophobia; “this thing you love is bigoted” is a worthwhile perspective. “This thing you love is, by the criteria I’ve just outlined, inauthentic” is not a worthwhile perspective. “What Remains of Edith Finch would work better as a film” is not dissimilar from “What Remains of Edith Finch is not a real game.” It’s a way of saying that an experience you may have found worthwhile wasn’t actually worthwhile, and I don’t see how this enriches anything. This won’t make better games. This won’t make better stories. This just tells designers (not directly but implicitly) not to make games they want to make and players not to enjoy games that they enjoy.

Ian Bogost isn’t saying anything that Jon Blow wasn’t saying in 2008. Every time a piece like this gets written, all the people who enjoy stories in games come out and write their rebuttals, and however many months later another article comes out that ignores every bit of it. This conversation doesn’t advance because the people arguing against story in games consider the conversation over. They repeat themselves as though they’re waiting for everyone to get the message. Meanwhile, people like Aaron Reid and Porpentine and Anna Anthropy and Brendon Chung keep doing unprecedented things with stories in games and they keep finding their audience. Only one side of the game narrative conversation is advancing, and that’s the side that interests me.

It’s not a real discussion. This is little more than a way of “heating up the takes.” An article about Flappy Bird that says it’s kind of janky in a way that’s interesting is a valid but rather uninteresting article; an article about how Flappy Bird proves that all games are grotesque? That’s a hot take. Ditto how an article about how What Remains of Edith Finch is interesting but might have worked better as a film contorts itself into an article about how the entire medium of games has failed at storytelling. And, I’m sorry all, but I’m over it. I hear new arguments defending stories against Ludologists every few months, and I haven’t heard a new argument against game narrative in nine years. These opinions are not just bad, they’re boring.

So can we be done with this now?

#writings #interactive story #ludology vs narratology #ian bogost

[taizi]

Raiders (2/?)

A/N: Several of you were interested in more of the Mummy AU, so I did my best to scrape something together. :’) The writer’s block is real. 

Again, this fic is based off of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, and stands as a sequel to “Know the world in yourself.”

I’ll be posting the rest of Raiders in snippets like this one, and then add it to the series on AO3 when it’s complete.

Story tag

x

Don is reaching for the door of his office when it opens by itself. Mikey beams at the man who steps inside the cluttered room and receives a similarly warm greeting in turn.

"Professor Angel," the man greets Don with a nod, followed by a friendly, "Doctor Angel."

"Not a doctor, Brody," Mikey says cheerfully for probably the dozenth time. "I didn't even finish high school."

Don hides a wince at that reminder with the ease of long practice. Raph does it less smoothly.

Brody only waves it away. "Semantics." He glances at Raphael, extending a hand politely. "And I don't believe we've met, Mister…?"

"Hamato," Raphael says after a moment's hesitation. He's giving his brothers a sidelong look as he shakes Brody's hand, and Don realizes belatedly that he never explained his change of name. Later, he thinks with a pang of regret.

"I'm Marcus Brody, Dean of Students here at Marshall. I'm something of a regular patron when it comes to the Angel brothers' business."

If anything, Raphael seems to understand they've cut ties with their family name, even if he doesn't know why. So when Brody brightens abruptly with revelation and asks if Raphael is any relation to Yoshi Hamato, Raphael simply says, "He was my father," instead of the more honest 'he was our father.'

"An incredible man," Brody reminisces fondly. "I remember a week we spent in Wales, hunting down Celtic legends about the Holy Grail. We went to a tavern to charm information out of the locals and your father got drunk, climbed on top of the bar, and sang some old college song at the top of his lungs until the police came in and arrested him."

"No way," Mikey whispers, awed and delighted. Don covers his face with his hand and does his best to stifle a surge of ridiculous laughter. Thinking of father used to hurt, but now he can imagine him as a young man traveling through Europe, headstrong and charming and every bit as reckless as Don's crazy little brother, and somehow the thought isn't painful at all.

"You're joking," Raphael says faintly. Brody grins.

"I wish I was. I got lost on my way to pay his bail. It took me hours to find the jailhouse, and by the time I got there, Yoshi was very sober and very confused. It didn't stop him from flirting his way into a clean change of clothes and a cup of coffee, though."

Mikey laughs outright, and Don gives into a wide smile. Raphael turns on them sharply.

"Don't you two even think about tellin' Leo any of this. That guy still thinks of dad as just this side of perfect, and I don't want to go shattering any lifelong illusions before dinner."

"So after dinner is fair game, then," Mikey points out reasonably, probably just for the sake of being contrary. Raphael twitches, as easy to poke into a fit of pique as ever.

"Was there something you needed, Mr. Brody?" Don says pointedly, before his brothers have a chance to devolve into children half their age and start a fight in his office in front of the Dean of Students. "There wasn't a problem with the last group of donations, was there?"

"Of course not," Brody says at once. "They were all stunning, of course, the museum is delighted to have them." He's uncomfortable, though, an unfamiliar frown tugging at his amicable face. "But I brought some people with me today."

"People?"

"From the government." Seeing three identical expressions of worry, Brody hastens to assure them, "It has nothing to do with your business. They're from the Army. Army Intelligence, actually. They're looking for someone you know, Professor."

Don blinks. "Who?"

"Someone by the name of O'Neil."

For a moment, it feels as though the world falls out from under his feet. It takes a few seconds for gravity to reassert itself, and in that time Mikey has placed a hand on his arm and taken the half-step forward that puts himself ahead of his small, fractured family. It’s a move he’s made before, when faced with mortal danger or any imminent threat, and it’s not lost on Don that it’s a move he’s making now. 

"Ask them to wait in the lecture hall, please," Mike says, with a shadow of his usual good cheer. "We'll join you guys in a minute."

Brody nods, looking as though he regrets being the bearer of unfortunate tidings, and slips out of the room without another word. Mikey only looks at Don when the door closes with a quiet catch and the brothers are safely ensconced in the dim daylight of the otherwise empty office.

He squeezes Don's arm, just hard enough to pull his attention back from the soft dread he was floundering in.

"You’ve told me about O’Neil," Mikey says. "He was like a father to you."

Raphael's eyes are sharp but his expression is without judgement. Warily, Don nods.

"He was one of my professors at university. We kept in contact for years, and he was - he was family to me," Don admits in a small, shameful voice, "even when you three weren't."

He isn't proud of that time. When father died, Donatello pushed his grief as far from himself as he could - dealt with it by not dealing with it at all, and writing home became all but impossible, because every time he put pen to paper he had to swallow the new and painful knowledge that father wouldn't be there to open this letter, or the next one, or the next. He would never be waiting to hear from Don ever again, and Don didn't know how to push past that grief.

The O'Neils, though - they were a bright place, an island where there should have been nothing but drowning sea. They came to visit when Kirby was on sabbatical, mailed him gifts on his birthday and hunted him down on the holidays. When Casey became a large part of Don's life, they only invited Casey along as well, and that yawning, aching sense of loss slowly became just another healed wound.

At that point, it was only difficult to write his brothers because it had simply been so long that Don didn't know what to say to them. How to explain his absence in their lives, his distance during this time when they should have all come together. And when it was hard to write them, he wrote the O'Neils instead, and pretended for a long time like he wasn't gradually abandoning one family for another.

And then he found Mikey in Egypt, and Mikey was as good as a stranger to him - a grifter with an agenda of his own and ghosts in his eyes and no time to waste on chasing the brothers that had left him behind. And Don realized the depth of his denial, and set out at once to make right what he had let fall into disrepair.

It's been well over a year since he's heard from the O'Neils, he realizes now with bitter dread. The letters he's sent out have gone unanswered, but this new life with Mikey beside him is a constant whirlwind of misadventure with very little standstill; he's been so busy that the lack of reply never registered as something to worry about. Not when his second family was probably as preoccupied with their own lives as he was with his.

He says as much of this as he can find words for. Mikey lets go of his arm when he comes to a halting finish, but only to punch him on the shoulder.

"Then shape up, big brother, and let's go see what the suits want with your friend." He jabs a thumb over his shoulder and offers a slanting grin, blue eyes sharp at the prospect of trouble or adventure, or even better yet, some combination of the two. "Maybe it'll take us somewhere new."

"You just got home from nearly dying in Peru," Raphael interjects at that point. He's very carefully not looking at Don anymore, and Don doesn't know how to feel about that. "Can't you sit still for more than five minutes?"

"Oh, Raphie," Mikey says with a gratuitous measure of false sympathy, "sitting still doesn't do me any good. It just gives everyone else a head start."

And it’s hard to deny the truth of that statement, even if it does sting. 

Don musters a smile and says, “You’ll help me, then?”

“Of course,” Mikey replies, exasperated. “Last time I left you on your own, you literally cursed the entire world with a book. And I was only gone for like an hour.”

Raphael looks a little weak at the knees. “What?”

Don’s smile gains strength. He rubs a sheepish hand through his hair and says, “Really, though, what are the odds of that happening again?”

“Given our luck? Sixty-forty against you,” Mikey says promptly. “And I’d put money on it.” 

#tmnt 2k12 #my writing #mummy au #b team #raiders #tmnt fic

[turtlesinreview]

TMNT Mirage Comics Issues 10

Holy shit, this story dives right into the action and gives you NO fucking break. I honestly feel like I’ve missed something. Maybe a few side comics here or there that aren’t included. Since I’m just reading the main issues for the time being I ask you forgive me if I’ve lost something critical, and trust me when I say I already have.

Strap in kids.

Story

The comic starts immediately with Leonardo already on the ground in the apartment severely injured with everyone surrounding him. I don’t know what fucking happened. I can’t even find what issue or mini-comic I could have missed. Point is, shit starts dire.

The worst part is the foot has invaded their home, meaning Shredder must be back. But how is that possible?

Donatello is quick to take charge, telling Splinter and April to get Leo out of there while the three of them fend off the foot. After a bit of a scuffle, Splinter then tells Don and Mikey to help April while Raph stays behind in the dark to take out any incoming foot soldiers, a plan Raphael loves.

Leo, barely conscious, keeps insisting that he can walk. He also wants April to save herself, but she says he’s her family and she won’t leave him behind.

She goes to open the door, and Leo immediately tries to stop her, knowing the foot are out there. He blocks her, and Michelangelo is quick to rush over and take out the foot in the way. Mikey promises April that as long as they’re alive, she’ll be safe.

Mikey then takes the lead to scout out the area. He and Don take out a few foot along the way, and they eventually make their way to the antique shop, where Shredder and the foot are waiting for them.

Before a fight can begin, a hooded figure makes himself known to aid the turtles: Mother fucking Casey Jones.

Raphael already seems to know him, which is likely why he’s there now. With Casey there to help things go a bit more swimmingly. In the meantime Splinter is telling April they may have to leave through the front door, but April has a better plan: a cooler in the back. Apparently the antique store was connected to a grocery store, linked by a cooler entrance. Her father never properly sealed it up, so it made for an ideal escape route.

Eventually the chaos starts a fire, meaning the firefighters and cops are on their way. Shredder and the foot retreat, and the heroes make an exit in the back, having to leave April’s van behind.

They look upon the fire in the distance, and April is devastated knowing that her entire life has gone up in flames.

Casey decides to take the crew elsewhere to hide for a while, and our comic ends with them on the road to reach Casey’s dead grandma’s place.

Characters

Holy shit there’s a lot to talk about. Everyone had a big role to play in this issue in one way or another.

I think I’ll start with April this time. It’s really neat to see the behavior of the original April. From my exposure to other Turtle series, I’d say April is usually depicted the most differently in each one. Like the others she generally has the same personality, but usually has traits that make each April stand out, and I’m not just talking about their appearance. That said, the three things I remember most about her are her courage, stubbornness, and caring personality. How much each of these stand out varies from series to series, but they’re usually all there in some form.

This April is very brave. Not fearless, but her courage here stems from her big heart. She makes it perfectly clear that she loves her new family of mutants, refusing to run away and leave them in danger. Some could argue she usually causes more trouble by sticking around, but in this situation it’s quite the opposite. Without her, they probably wouldn’t have managed such a safe getaway after all.

Also I have to add that the scene where she watches her home burn down was incredibly distressing.

Splinter takes the role of the leader for the most part, which makes sense. After all he needs to get his sons and April out of danger, and as we’ve already established, he knows what he’s fucking doing. While (as usual) we don’t see much growth out of him, we do see him giving very well-organized commands. That was pretty awesome.

He also stopped an arrow mid-air. That was fucking badass.

This is another issue where Donatello stands out. He’s the first one to instruct the team when danger rears its ugly head, and as usual his quick thinking helps the team ward off trouble. He also works pretty well with Michelangelo as a back-up for taking out enemies on the way downstairs.

Speaking of, Mikey also gets a huge role in this one. He rescues April and is quick to tell her that they’ll protect her no matter what, proving that he (and his brothers) care about her very much. They really do consider her part of the family at this point, and it’s nice to see the feeling is mutual.

On top of that, he’s the one who leads the charge downstairs, and is very good at spotting and taking out enemies. This is probably the most we’ve ever seen him do, and I can say it didn’t disappoint me at all.

Leonardo may have been on death’s door for the most part, but it was pretty clear he was trying (and failing) to shake it off. Ever the determined leader, he insisted he could walk despite needing to be held up by April just to move around. Hell he even told her to abandon him and escape. Be it out of a (very small) bit of ego/pride, or because he sincerely cares about her, it’s still a pretty noble thing and in character for him.

When April tries to get him out the door, he can tell right away she’s about to be attacked and moves to ward off the foot. Had Mikey not spotted the situation who knows where that would have left Leo. Guy is as brave as they come.

Raphael mostly just fought in this issue, but he did so spectacularly. He was very eager to take out any foot he could in the dark, and probably has the highest body count this issue as a result. In contrast to Michelangelo’s usual role of the comic relief, Raph was the one with all the wittier lines, at least when Casey didn’t have them.

Lastly, there’s Casey, who I have been fucking pumped about meeting. Unfortunately this isn’t his debut issue, and what’s even more unfortunate is my inability to get a copy of said issue. If you’ve seen the first turtles movie, I imagine the debut shares similarities to that, but it’s no substitute for the real thing. I’d like to review it in the future, if only for the sake of completion.

Casey is a real show stealer though, through and through. How he knew to come to the antique shop I can’t say, but he’s there and he kicks ass. He gets almost all the witty lines in this issue, and coming in as a fifth ranger is what helps the turtles survive the ordeal and escape.

Lastly it’s Casey who helps find them a new homestead in the meantime and hide, so the guy’s clearly got a good heart. I think we all knew that, though.

I sadly can’t say a lot about the Shredder. I don’t know if it’s really him or someone filling in his role, but either way despite his presence being a threat he doesn’t actually do much this issue. Most of the combat involves his foot soldiers.

Writing

The writing in this issue is rightfully tense and there’s this constant sense of urgency, perfectly fitting for the situation. As usual Laird and Eastman use a small amount of words to tell you mountains about the characters, and everything feels perfectly natural. This issue has a lot more show, don’t tell than previous ones, and I’m glad they’re learning that’s the best method when making a comic.

I should say it seems like their team has gotten larger, but I didn’t see who did what. Either way I’ll just give credit to everyone for both writing and art. The point is I think a larger staff helped. It may have something to do with the improvements overall.

Art

Look at this. Just fucking look at it.

Do I even have to explain why this spread is amazing? It doesn’t overdo the shading, the attention to detail is impeccable, and it gives you the proper ‘oh shit’ feeling just be looking at it. The Shredder is there, waiting for the turtles while feeling no sense of dread. He knows they stand no chance in their current predicament.

Basically, imagine this, but it’s a bunch of panels in a comic. Every panel captures the mood its trying to. The things that need detail have it, and it’s not overdone. The art and design is at a point where the changes are minimal, so it’s as if I’m repeating myself each time. Hell I may just have to use this place to simply showcase panels in future updates.

Final Thoughts

This is the issue where the tone seemingly shifts dramatically, but as usual it doesn’t seem unnatural or even like a mood whiplash. I’ll admit it’s a shame that I’m missing a piece of the puzzle, but I promise to review it if I can locate it, even if it’s late.

Basically, I have a feeling things are gonna feel a little different from this point on, and I’m fucking excited about it.

#tmnt #prime