The Remaker

Baby learns the laws of physics ft. Casey Jones jr

Some more doodles:

but Akita is NEVER COLD.

Good question! I don’t always remember exactly how I came up with all my different story ideas, but I do remember this one, and actually pretty much exactly!

As I’m assuming most of you could probably guess, I’m a huge fanfiction reader, and in reading a ton of stories in different fandoms, as all of you do, I have a handful of favorite stories and authors. One of my absolute favorite TMNT 2012 fics is Light in the Darkness by @echokazul (same name over on Ao3). If you haven’t read the fic you 1000% should. It’s so good!!

Anyway, EchoKazul also has another fic called The Blood in My Veins that’s a 2012 au, and in it, Leo is the only brother who’s a turtle, and the other three are all human. The story itself is fantastic, but what really caught my eye was that change in not having all of them either turtles or human, and I thought it was interesting and out of curiosity wondered what kind of story could be told if the opposite was true. If there was a separated au where Leo was the only human and his brothers were turtles.

Once I had the idea my brain wouldn’t let it go until I figured out what I could do with it, so I brainstormed and decided that I would want them biological brothers, which meant that they would all have to start as human (and from there it was easy to decide that they should be Hamato Yoshi and Tang Shen’s biological children), and Raph, Donnie and Mikey would later be mutated into the turtles we all know and love.

From there I needed to figure out, considering the type of au it was, how I would separate Leo from the rest of his family, but I realized pretty quickly that I didn’t need to make it complicated, because I actually already had the perfect canon event to make that happen….😏

The rest is history since the rest of the pieces fell into place easily with how Leo was separated and where his story would turn from there, and while I didn’t originally plan on turning my idea into a full story, I wrote out one important scene that I had in my head just for fun initially and shared it with some friends on Discord. The ones that read it really liked it and wanted to know more, so I kept going and later went back and actually wrote the beginning of the story (the original scene I wrote was almost a dozen chapters into the story).

Her kids said she was the best most helpful loving mom. Everybody said she never complained. She put everyone first. It was a virtue. She didn't take care of her, she devoted herself to church, husband and kids. They cried so much. An angel on earth! They'd miss her dearly.

I never met this lady. I sobbed. My husband thought I was going to join her in the ground when I bent down to give me rose and spoke to her. I told her I understood why her heart attacked her. She swallowed so many teeth!! A dozen people said she was the best woman on earth and

I hadn't learned a thing about her personality except that she made it small. I heard about her service and she never complained. I don't even know if she was funny.

That's when I decided to stop putting everyone above me all the time. Stop swallowing my teeth. Because I refuse to let these people kill me and then get up at my funeral and talk about themselves. How I died for them but without saying it. I refuse.

If you hear someone praising you for "never complaining" please get mad. Please take up space. This is your life, not a pageant. Complain. Even if you can only whisper "this hurts me". Complain.

No one can help if you won't say "this hurts". Maybe you're crazy like me. Maybe little "harmless" comments hurt. So what? Say something. Maybe they get mad and block you. (start all caps) Good! (end caps) You have to find a life that does not hurt. You have to say something. Nothing is too small.

If you think "other people wouldn't be so hurt by this" so you shouldn't speak up, you're wrong. You literally were forced (start all caps) Pushed or pulled) (end caps) into life. You didn't ask for your sensitivity. There are people allergic (start all caps) to water. (end caps) Should they not complain because it's atypical?

“The family name ‘Murasame’ was given to me by my master. The given name ‘Tatsumasa’ is a combination of ‘dragon’ (tatsu), the [zodiac] year when I was born, and one character from my master’s name,” says Murasame."

10 years ago, I was watching my Potential and Opportunities dissolve and evaporate in an ocean of cheap gin and expensive whiskey.

But 5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

One of the exercises they had us perform was to imagine ourselves happy, 5 years in the future.

Many of us in that room had forgotten how to imagine nice things happening to them. A few snorted (well, I snorted), finding the notion that we’d even still be around in 5 years grimly humorous.

For about half of us, it was the last stop on the way down.

But I indulged the therapist. I was there, after all, because I did not want to die. So, I imagined myself, 5 years hence.

Happy.

It came to me all at once; an artistic remix on Norman Rockwell’s Freedom From Want, reframed with myself placing food at the table.

Sunday Dinner At My Place, I answered, when it came my turn to share my fantasy. I was asked what food I imagined eating.

It’s not the meal itself, I said, it’s the implications framed around it. Sunday Dinner At My Place means that I have a Place. It means that I have Family that will actually speak to me and friends who actually want to see me. It means money enough not just to feed myself but others too. It means having the time to spare to take the time preparing the meal.

A lot of nodding heads all around me. A struck chord. Many people with no Place, in that place. Nowhere that would lament their leaving.

5 years hence, as I lay down to sleep in my Home, with my Wife and my Son, surrounded by my Art and my Flowers, I reflect.

It was a long road. It was hard. We lost people. So many people. There were long days and long nights and hospital stays. Angry arguments with ghosts. I changed, in ways I never hoped for, or expected. Good ways, finally, for once. Slowly, against the backdrop of a world in chaos, I found my mind.

Sometimes, My Wife wondered aloud, what she did to deserve me. After some stumbling with my feelings, I eventually settled on an answer.

I’m a Rescue.

She gave me a Home.

And, so, I gave her a Family.

It seemed fair

This Sunday, my folks, which whom I have not had a shouting match in years, will come over for dinner. We will cook and eat together. My Friend became My Wife, and she took a piece of me and with it she made Our Son. There will be many hugs, and no violence. Good Things Happened.

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you don’t know what the future holds.

don’t give up yet, ok?