#inkywrites

In the dimly lit confines of his lab, Donatello sat slumped over his workbench, his three-fingered hands absentmindedly fiddling with a broken gadget. The familiar hum of machinery and the gentle flicker of screens, once a source of comfort and inspiration, now felt hollow and distant. The lab, which had always been a sanctuary, seemed more like a tomb tonight.

Donatello, the brilliant and ever-resourceful Turtle, had always prided himself on his ability to solve any problem, to invent any device, to overcome any obstacle. But now, he faced a challenge no amount of genius could surmount. Y/N was gone. His partner, his confidante, his best friend in the world, had died in an accident that his mind replayed over and over, each time wishing he could find a way to change the past.

He sighed deeply, the weight of grief pressing down on his soft shell. His brothers had tried to comfort him, but how could they understand? Each time they tried, Donnie would retreat further into his work, hoping to find solace in circuits and codes. But even the most intricate inventions couldn’t fill the void you had left.

His gaze fell upon a half-finished project – a small, sleek drone that you had helped him design. You had insisted on painting it a bright colour, a stark contrast to his usual preference for dark, muted tones. He picked it up, the memory of your laughter as they argued over the colour choice bringing a faint, fleeting smile to his lips.

“Y/N, what am I supposed to do without you?” he whispered, his voice cracking. The silence of the lab was his only reply.

Lost in thought, Donatello didn’t notice the soft footsteps approaching. It wasn’t until he felt a hand on his shoulder that he looked up to see Leo standing beside him, concern etched across his face.

“Hey, Donnie,” Leo began gently. “I know it hurts. We all miss her. But isolating yourself like this… it’s not what Y/N would have wanted.”

Donnie’s eyes welled with tears, and he quickly looked away, embarrassed by his vulnerability. “I don’t know how to move on, Leo. She was… everything.”

Leo crouched down, looking Donnie directly in the eyes. “Y/N was a part of our family. She wouldn’t want you to shut down. She’d want you to keep fighting, to keep creating. For her.”

Donnie nodded slowly, knowing his brother was right but struggling to accept it. Leo gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before leaving the lab, giving Donatello the space he needed to process his emotions.

Alone again, Donnie took a deep breath and looked around his lab. He saw not just the tools and machines, but the memories and moments he had shared with you. The laughter, the debates, the breakthroughs – they were all here, embedded in every corner of the room.

He stood up, a newfound determination coursing through him. He couldn’t bring you back, but he could honor your memory by continuing their work, by ensuring that your spirit lived on in the projects they had started together.

With a trembling hand, Donatello reached for a screwdriver and began to tinker with the drone. As he worked, he felt a strange sense of peace. He wasn’t alone; your spirit was with him, guiding his hands, inspiring his mind. And for the first time since your passing, he felt a glimmer of hope.

The road ahead would be long and painful, but Donatello knew he could face it. For you. For his brothers. For the family they had built together.

"Out of the two assigning tasks for me at the Riften Fishery… I'm not sure who's less talkative," Faune said to her fishing pole. "Viriya or Swims-In-Deep-Water. They both certainly know what they want at least…"

She fished up a lantern and began unhooking it with a sigh. "When I took up work in Riften to get experience, I didn't have the faintest idea that I'd be working with two of the stoniest-faced people in all of Skyrim! At least Bolli and Wujeeta are friendly…"

Faune tossed the lantern to the side, wincing as it clattered loudly against the two empty wine bottles she had also fished up so far. She was starting to have the faintest idea that she had scared all of the fish away already. Or… that the three small river betties she had fished up first were all she was going to get.

wip 1

Despite the rest of the crew shouting I ran fast-- wobbling and feeling weak in the ankles-- towards the chute. Oakes was sliding but it appeared that he was feebly holding on and still sliding because of his sweating hands.

wip 2

“One of the knives is missing.” Wallace came, scowling and stoic as ever, into the main taproom where Lydia had been polishing a glass. She looked up, partly nonplussed. “Knives? You mean a kitchen knife or--” Wallace made a gesture with his hands. “A carving knife.” 

wip 3

Folmarv heard a voice pipe up from behind Delacroix. “Alphonse you bleeding heart! Let us not go about giving the younger soldiers hope that a mewling babe could survive a war!” Goffard Gaffgarion, a man fast becoming known for his ruthless manner on the battlefield, was at best six years older than Folmarv himself.

wip 4

Whether Julienne's alembic exploding was or wasn't his fault; that was beside the point now. Now? Volanaro had to worry about being relocated all the way to cold, blustery, miserable Bruma. How would he survive?!

wip 5

Feeling an exhaustion he hadn't known existed before, Baurus sat under the shade of the avatar’s wing-- leaning against its stony foot and staring forward.

wip 6 :3

Albert Jemane had been unduly nervous for his son's entire life. When Guilbert was younger, his father would have him check the upper levels of their home. Window locks wiggled and the curtains drawn, doors rattled with nearly enough youthful frenzy to pull them off the hinges. Guilbert would finish early and flop onto his bed, listening to his father check everything a second time. And as they both aged, Albert became insistent that Guilbert also double or even triple check.

Miraina walked into Weatherleah to see Ysuha'Ko kneeling over a downed Reynald and profusely apologizing over his body. She was about to drop the supplies in her arms and scream when she (thankfully) noticed he was still breathing.

"I leave you two alone," Miraina inhaled as calmly as she could. "For HALF AN HOUR--" Never mind, she was already bellowing.

"--so sorry, so-- M-Miraina!" Ysuha'Ko leaned up from where she was massaging Reynald's stiff arms. "I can explain!"

"Explain, Ysuha." Miraina sat the groceries down solely to join the two idiots on the floor.

"Reynald offered very kindly to let me practice spells on him, saying that he would be able to resist most of the spell." Ysuha'Ko stammered, resuming her massaging of Reynald's arms. The technique seemed to be working a little: his fingers were oh so slowly curling up and down as she did so. "So I was practicing my magic on him... most of it wasn't this dire until I tried the paralysis spell."

"He let you paralyze him?" Miraina's gaze turned to Reynald. "Reynald you loveable idiot!"

Guilbert swept the containers of ingredients off the kitchen counter and into his arms to be put away. He still wasn't too confident in his cooking but-- at the very least-- he had made something he and Reynald could eat tonight.

He was wondering if Reynald could start cooking meals on alternating days when his brother walked through the door with parcels and a letter.

"What are those?" Guilbert pointed at the parcels, brows raised in curiosity. He was fighting the sneaking suspicion that Reynald had ordered more alcohol; Reynald needed his brother's faith now more than ever.

"This letter is addressed to you." Reynald set the letter on the counter next to the slightly burnt steaks resting innocently on a plate.

"Oh! Um..." Guilbert looked at his hands in hesitance. He could already feel them sticking to the paper. "Why don't you read it for me?"