Chili Is Cereal

Fanfic writer and artist

[cherryhatter-deactivated2015072]

KICK THE CAN!

Let’s play the biggest game of kick the can on the internet.

To kick the can, reblog it. I wanna see how long this can go on for.

[visibun]

the oldest reblogs for this post that i can find are from january 2nd of 2013. this can has been getting kicked around tumblr for almost 13½ years now

[drtanner]

And yet somehow this is my first time kicking it!

[monicfever]

when silence becomes sound. 𝜗𝜚 stiles stilinski.

stiles comforts his partner who’s struggling through a major depressive episode after noticing them withdrawing from everything.

cw ᝰ .ᐟ gn!reader ,, depressed!reader ,, mental health depictions ,, hurt/comfort ,, angsty ,, stiles being silly ily stiles

you stopped opening the curtains three days ago.

maybe four. maybe longer.

time doesn’t feel linear anymore — it curls in on itself like burnt paper, fragile and dark at the edges. the air in the room has turned still, the kind of still that hums like an old refrigerator or a swallowed sob.

you lie on your side, watching nothing in particular. the dust has started to settle on the windowsill again, fine and grey. it looks like snow in a world where everything is made of ash. your phone buzzes once — then again — and then it doesn’t anymore.

you haven’t answered in days.

the apartment isn’t messy, not exactly. it’s just quiet. dishes are stacked neatly in the sink, untouched. a sweater you meant to wear sits folded on the back of the chair. everything is paused, like the scene of a crime before the camera starts rolling.

you keep meaning to get up. you think about it, sometimes. you trace the outline of the thought like a finger against fogged glass, but it never becomes action.

it’s not sadness, not really. sadness would be something. this is thinner than that. emptier. a kind of slow unspooling, where you feel yourself stretching too far away from your own center.

sometimes you try to remember the sound of stiles' laugh. the real one, not the polite one. the one that cracks open his whole face like sunlight through blinds. you try to conjure it like a spell. but your brain is full of molasses and moths and the laugh won’t come.

it didn’t happen all at once.

you didn’t wake up one morning and decide to disappear.

it was slower than that. smaller. you started by answering texts a little later. then not at all.

you told scott you were just tired. told lydia school was catching up to you. told kira you'd call her back (you didn’t). they all believed you, or maybe they didn’t, but they let it slide. sometimes people vanish for a little while. sometimes life is heavy.

this felt different. you know it did. even then.

you started watching your own life like it was someone else’s. like you were standing behind a glass wall, palms pressed to it, watching a version of you laugh too loudly at dinner or lean against stiles' shoulder like it meant something soft and easy.

but in here — in the quiet — nothing is loud. nothing is easy. you’ve forgotten how to make your face look alive. forgotten what to say when someone asks how you’ve been. it’s easier not to answer. easier not to go.

your group chat has 37 unread messages.

you stopped checking them after 12.

there’s a photo in your camera roll — scott’s birthday, you think — stiles has frosting on his nose and you’re laughing so hard your eyes are nearly shut. you don’t remember that laugh.

you scroll past it.

lock your phone.

face down.

the quiet stretches again, loose and long like a shadow near sunset. you pull the blanket higher over your chest. your ribs feel like they’re sinking inward. like your whole body’s trying to make itself smaller.

the air tastes stale, like breath held too long. it’s too quiet, not the kind that soothes. this quiet buzzes under your skin — static where your thoughts should be, a dull ache behind your eyes where your name used to sit.

you blink at the ceiling. it doesn’t blink back.

there’s a crack in the corner of the paint that you’ve started memorizing — not on purpose, just something your eyes keep drifting to when everything else blurs. you think about giving it a name. you don’t.

your stomach growls. you ignore it. hunger feels distant. like a story someone once told you.

outside, you can hear life happening — muffled voices in the hallway, a dog barking two floors down, the creak of the elevator doors. the world is still spinning, which feels almost cruel.

you don’t feel angry. you don’t feel much at all.

sometimes you miss them.

not just the pack — not just scott’s steady warmth or lydia’s sharp wit or the way stiles talks too fast when he’s excited — but you, the version of you that used to belong with them.

the one who moved through space like it meant something. who laughed without thinking, who showed up.

you wonder if they’ve noticed you fading. if they talk about you in low voices. if they say things like “they’ve been off lately” or “just give them time.”

you wonder if stiles defends you.

you think maybe he does.

you also think maybe no one knows how far you’ve really gone, because you’ve gotten good at making it look okay. good at texting just enough. laughing just enough. keeping the door unlocked, just in case.

you don’t cry.

your eyes sting sometimes, like they remember how, but the tears never come. like your body’s stuck in the moment before — the breath before the break, the silence before the scream. frozen in that in-between.

honestly, you’re not sure what would be worse: if the flood finally came; or if it never did.

the room has started to feel like a mouth that won’t close. it swallows light. it hums with memory. your hoodie still smells faintly like stiles — laundry detergent and something a little sharper, like pine needles crushed underfoot — and you hate that you pulled it on two days ago and never took it off.

you haven’t touched your sketchbook. your headphones lie coiled on the nightstand like a dead thing. music feels too loud, too brave, too much like color in a world that’s gone greyscale.

you think about the first time he kissed you. how his hand trembled just barely against your jaw, like he couldn’t believe you were real.

he’s smart — too smart sometimes — and you know he’s noticed the shift, the retreat. you can feel it in the way his messages have changed. less teasing, more gentle. less where are you, more i miss you.

you don’t answer half of them.

not because you don’t want to, but because you do. and that wanting — that little ember that refuses to die — is almost worse than the numbness.

you close your eyes and press your face into the pillow. the fabric smells like stillness. you think, just five more minutes.

you think, i’ll try again tomorrow.

you’re just starting to slip beneath it — the weight, the stillness, the cottony hush behind your eyes. not sleep exactly, but that heavy kind of drift, where your limbs blur and your thoughts pull slow.

your body loosens. not relaxed, just untethered. it feels safer this way. less sharp. less real.

then the knock comes.

three short taps. not loud. not urgent.

your eyes snap open. for a moment, you don’t breathe. you wait, heart sluggish in your chest, like it doesn’t quite know how to pick up the rhythm again. another knock. softer this time. like whoever’s on the other side doesn’t want to scare you off. or maybe doesn’t want to admit they’re here at all.

your mind runs through every possibility — a neighbor, a delivery, a mistake — but deep down you already know.

because there’s only one person who knocks like that.

like the door might bite back.

like he’s not sure you’ll want to see him.

“it’s just me.” his voice, muffled but unmistakable. thin as a thread pulled through a needle.

you close your eyes again. your throat tightens. you could pretend you didn’t hear. he wouldn’t push, you know that. he’s too careful with you these days. too quiet. like he thinks you might crumble if he speaks too loudly.

the sound of his voice lingers in the room now. a ghost pressing its fingers to the windows. it changes the shape of the air. thick. uncomfortable.

you think maybe he’s gone. you hope maybe he’s gone.

but then: “okay, wow. rude.” his voice again, through the door. a little louder this time. a little more stiles. “i drive all the way over here like some tragic, lovesick courier pigeon and this is the thanks i get?”

you turn your face into the pillow. “go away.” you mumble, voice dry and small. he hears it anyway.

“can’t. sorry. i’ve got this whole speech planned. it’s heartwarming. probably oscar-worthy.”

“stiles.”

it’s not loud, but there’s a warning in it. tired. frayed.

he goes quiet for a beat. then, softer: “i miss you.”and something in your chest flinches. because you miss him too. so much it’s almost violent. but missing people doesn’t make you better company. it doesn’t make you someone worth being around.

“i’m not doing this.” you try, but your voice cracks a little halfway through. you hope he doesn’t catch it.

he does.

“i’m not trying to fix anything, okay? i just — i wanted to see you. talk. you don’t even have to say anything back. you could glare at me through the peephole and i’d still consider that a win.”

you don’t move.

“i swear to god,” he says, after another stretch of silence, “i will kick this door open. i will literally go full action movie. it’ll be embarrassing for both of us.”

there’s a pause.

“…oh.”

a soft laugh.

“it’s unlocked.”

the handle turns, slow and hesitant. like he’s giving you time to stop him. you don’t. the door creaks open and there he is. still stiles.

eyes tired. hoodie slightly damp. hair messy. holding a crumpled paper bag in one hand and something too close to hope in the other. he doesn’t say anything right away. just stands there in the doorway like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to come in. like the room might spit him back out.

“hi.” he says, quiet now.

just that.

and it feels louder than anything else.

you stare at him, blanket pulled to your chin, body curled like something fragile. you don’t say hi back. just blink, slowly, like your brain’s still buffering.

he doesn’t seem offended, just shifts his weight awkwardly and lifts the paper bag like it’s some kind of peace offering. “i brought muffins.” then, squinting down into the bag, “...or what used to be muffins. now they’re kind of... warm debris.”

you huff. not quite a laugh, more like the ghost of one. he clocks it instantly. his whole face lights up like it’s christmas and your exhale is the gift he’s been waiting for. “there it is.” he says, smiling like it hurts. not in a sad way. in a god, i missed this kind of way.

he steps inside, just barely, toeing off his shoes like he’s still trying not to startle you. you don’t tell him to leave. you don’t tell him to stay. you just shift a little on the bed, enough to make space for the silence.

“it smells like existential crisis in here,” he says, sniffing dramatically. then lowers his voice, mock-serious: “don’t worry. i’ve trained for this. i’m emotionally equipped. i watched three sad movies before i came over.”

you roll your eyes, but it’s weak. your chest still feels like it’s wrapped in cotton. he doesn’t expect a full recovery in five minutes. you love that about him.

“you look like a haunted victorian ghost.” he adds, leaning against the wall. you glance down at yourself, hoodie, blanket, sleep-heavy limbs, and feel a flicker of shame. but it passes. or maybe he takes it with him when he smiles like that. gentle. open. like he’d sit here for days if you needed.

“i didn’t know if i should come,” he says eventually. “but scott was worried. lydia threatened to astral project into your apartment. i told her that’s not a thing but, you know. it’s lydia. if anyone could…”

you nod. barely. you’re listening. you just don’t know how to talk yet.

“so,” his voice is lighter again, lifting the bag. “muffin?” you shake your head. he shrugs. “cool. more for me. emotional support carbs.”

then he lowers himself to the floor. right there, by the edge of your bed. doesn’t try to climb in. doesn’t crowd you. just sits, cross-legged, peeling the bag open with the kind of care most people reserve for sacred texts. you turn your face toward him, not all the way, just enough. he takes a bite of muffin-crumbs and makes a face. “this is terrible. i think they put salt in it instead of sugar.” he eats another bite anyway.

and somehow, just like that, the room feels a little less like it’s swallowing you whole. still heavy, but not unbearable. not with him here. not with stiles, and his bad muffins, and the way he never asks you to be okay — just lets you be.

he shifts on the floor like he’s settling in for the long haul. you hear the crinkle of the paper bag again. another muffin meets its untimely, crumb-filled end. “okay,” he says, mouth half-full, “new plan.”

you open one eye. he’s looking up at you with that too-bright expression he gets when he’s about to do something dumb and deeply heartfelt.

“we're watching star wars.”

you blink. “no.”

“yes.” he points at you, muffin crumbs on his hoodie. “you don’t get a vote. you’ve lost voting privileges until you return to the land of the emotionally available.”

“still no.”

“just know this is your fault. and now i have no choice but to expose you to peak skywalker drama and the worst haircut in cinema history.”

you want to say something snarky. want to tell him that you don’t have the energy. that your chest still feels like it’s filled with wet cement. that your brain’s running on dial-up and your soul’s stuck somewhere between empty and echo.

but instead, you stay quiet.

and stiles — because he knows you, because he knows exactly what that silence means — just smiles softly and stands up, brushing muffin dust off his jeans. “tv remote?”

you jerk your chin toward the coffee table. he grabs it like it’s excalibur. “we’re starting with a new hope,” he announces, turning on the TV with dramatic flair. “because that’s what this situation needs: hope. and also laser swords.”

he fumbles with the streaming service. mutters under his breath. “why is the volume always at 53? who sets the volume at 53? sociopaths, that’s who.”

you almost smile.

he flops onto the far end of the bed, not touching, just there. a safe orbit, close enough to feel, far enough to breathe.

the movie starts. the opening crawl rolls, yellow text spilling into space. he hums the theme under his breath like it’s a lullaby. you stare at the screen. you’re not really watching. but the light from it dances across your walls, and stiles keeps talking, nonsense, mostly. character commentary. random trivia. things you already know but don’t mind hearing again.

the movie plays on, the screen lighting up with the familiar dusty desert of tatooine. stiles continues, running commentary as if he’s not been through this scene a thousand times. you don't reply. you’re still staring at the screen, pretending to watch. but it’s hard to focus when everything feels foggy.

stiles, however, doesn’t mind the silence. not really. he just keeps going, full of that sarcastic energy that he knows you can't resist, even if you try. “and let’s talk about han solo for a second,” he says, eyes never leaving the screen. “this guy literally gets frozen in carbonite and still somehow looks cool. that’s the real mystery.” he pauses, eyes narrowing as he watches the exchange between han and chewie. “also, how did they just— how do you get a life debt? that’s like... the worst deal ever. i would absolutely not sign up for that.”

you let your eyes slide toward him, just for a second, catching the playful smirk tugging at his lips, the glint of humor in his eyes. even now, in the middle of this, he’s still trying to make you smile. you want to push him away. stay distant. stay closed. but his voice, his stupid jokes, the way he’s just there, sitting so close, yet still giving you the space to be a ghost in your own skin, it’s like a rope being thrown into the ocean, and you’re trying so hard not to grab hold.

then he shifts, slowly. barely noticeable at first. his knee nudges yours. a quiet brush of contact. you can feel the shift in the room. stiles doesn’t say anything, just keeps watching the screen, like he’s perfectly fine with the stillness between you. but then, without even thinking, he inches closer, just enough to press his shoulder against yours.

and that’s it. that’s when you can’t hide anymore. when the weight of him, of his warmth and his familiar, stupid presence, pushing up against you feels like it’s breaking through the walls you’ve built. he doesn’t say a word. just sits there, close, in a way that’s too familiar, too safe, too easy. you’re not sure when it happens, but without thinking, you lean a little toward him.

he doesn’t pull away. he doesn’t even look at you. just lets you, lets the space between you shrink with every little movement. “you really think luke’s the hero of this whole thing?” you ask, your voice barely more than a murmur.

stiles glances at you, the corner of his mouth lifting in that little crooked grin you know too well. “nah,” he shakes his head. “honestly? it’s chewie.” he pauses, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips. “he's the only one that has his shit together.”

you laugh quietly, just a soft, breathless thing that doesn’t feel quite as impossible as it did an hour ago. without realizing it, you move closer. just enough for your arm to brush his, skin against skin. stiles glances at you again, his gaze warm, a little uncertain. like he's waiting for something, a sign that it’s okay to keep going. but you don’t pull away.

he shifts, and suddenly he’s leaning against the headboard, pulling his legs up onto the bed, spreading them wide enough to make room for you. his hand is resting on the blanket, inches from your arm, but it’s an invitation, not a demand. "come here." he says, voice soft.

and it’s not a question, it’s not a demand, it’s just him, being stiles. being here, even if you haven’t figured out how to be there with him yet. you hesitate. but the urge to be close, just close enough to feel something that isn't weight, isn’t cold, isn’t empty, is too much.

without thinking, you slide toward him, just enough to fit into the space between his body and the bed. his arm shifts to pull you closer, wrapping around your shoulders with ease, and you let him. the movie continues. you watch the rest of it, but only halfway. your head rests against his shoulder, and his fingers curl around your wrist, just a quiet, steady weight.

the credits roll, the iconic music swelling in the background, the room feels quieter than it ever has. you’re not really sure how long it’s been since you’ve just sat, not doing anything, just existing, but it’s enough. enough to let the tension start to leak out of you, enough to feel the edges of yourself loosening again, just a little. you don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, your body relaxed against his. the knot in your stomach unraveled just a fraction. the weight on your chest was a little lighter.

stiles hasn’t moved since the last scene, his fingers still loosely curled around your wrist, the warmth of his touch like an anchor. you look up at him now, and he’s staring ahead at the screen, but there’s a soft shift in his expression. something like concern, or maybe it’s just familiarity — it’s hard to tell with him. but it’s enough to make your heart ache, just the smallest little pinch.

“hey,” he says softly, breaking the silence. you turn your head, just enough to catch his gaze, and he smiles down at you, a little hesitant but warm. “you should take a shower,” he says. “get some fresh air. wash off the day, you know?”

you nod, not really trusting your voice right now, and he doesn’t push you. he just keeps watching you with those eyes that always seem to see too much, like he’s waiting for you to say something—or to ask for something — but he doesn’t ask for anything at all. “i’ll be here.” he adds, quiet.

the words are simple, but there’s a warmth in them that spreads through your chest. a promise that you don’t have to say anything back to. a promise that he’s not going anywhere, even if you’re not sure what you need from him right now. you push yourself to sit up, to slide away from his warmth, even though you want to stay there forever. “i’ll be quick,” you whisper, voice rougher than you intended.

“take your time,” he says, tone light but eyes serious. you pause, halfway off the bed, your hand lingering on the blanket. there’s something about the way he says it that makes the tightness in your chest soften just a little more.

you stand up and head toward the bathroom, not looking back, not sure if you even need to. but as you reach the door, something unexpected stops you — his voice, low and hesitant, but real. “wait,” he interrupts, like it’s a breath, like he’s unsure if you’ll hear him. you stop, turn, and find him looking at you with an expression that’s almost vulnerable. “before you go...” he pauses, his fingers twitching against the blanket as if he’s trying to hold himself back. “can I get a kiss?”

you blink, surprised by the question, by the way his voice cracks just a little at the end, like he’s not sure how you’ll take it. but you see the hope in his eyes, the way he’s bracing himself for rejection, and something in you softens. your heart skips a beat, and you know what he’s asking for isn’t big. you walk back to him without a word, and when you’re standing in front of him, you lean down slightly, your breath catching in your throat.

he tilts his head slightly, and without a second thought, you press your lips to his. it’s not forceful or desperate. just soft. gentle. the briefest connection, but in that moment, it feels like everything. “thanks,” he murmurs, voice low and a little breathless. you nod, your chest full of that same soft ache. you can’t say anything, not yet, but you feel it — something shared.

“i’ll be here.” he repeats, eyes soft, his hand reaching out to touch your arm for just a moment, his fingers brushing lightly.

you don’t know if it’s reassurance or a quiet sort of inevitability, but you don’t ask. either way you’re already somewhere between staying and slipping away.

started 4.23.2025. finished 4.24.2025.

( masterlist. )

©️ monicfever 2025

[chiliiscereal]

Sister Dear (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/399076848-sister-dear?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=noandisaidno Hey all so this was a one shot I wrote a while ago. Thought I would make it a real book and stop using Y/N lol. So basically, OC is Margaret Harrington, Steve's little sister. She's Mike, Lucas, Will, and Dustin's age. Her and Steve don't get along. Their parents SUCK yay! She finds family in the DnD group and in the Byers. Then she goes missing. I'll make this sound better later lol this is going to be heavily edited later

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: Everyone at HQ was convinced there was something going on between you and Miguel. Just...no one knew what. But one group of spiders were determined to figure it out.

Warnings: None! Just a lot of goofiness and a whole lot of fluff :3

When you have a superhuman with superior senses, they’re bound to be perceptive to their surroundings. Now when you have an entire lobby the size of multiple football fields filled with superhumans with superior senses, very few things will go unnoticed.

It’s why people very quickly realize that you and Miguel have…something between the two of you. It’s just that no one is quite sure what.

Camaraderie? Maybe, you were one of the first spiders to join the society.

Friendship? Perhaps, but it was known that Miguel wasn’t one to do friends. Not with the amount of loss he has gone through.

A relationship? This one seemed the most unplausible. Miguel was, well, Miguel. Stoick, cold and calculating. Meanwhile, you were you.

You had a light that drew people in, kindness that knew no bounds and warmth like a fire on a cold winter’s day.

Everyone knew the saying ‘opposites attract’, but it was like comparing night and day with the two of you. Regardless, a small little group within the society were set on trying to figure the two of you out.

~

“Ain’t no way the two are together, she’s too good for him!” Hobie argues, his legs kicked up on the table in front of him.

“I don’t know, maybe that’s why they work together. Because she makes him better?” Miles says, but his tone of voice failed to hide his skepticism.

“I think you should just leave the two of them be. Besides, what happens if you figure it out or not anyway?” Peter says, feeding Mayday as he does. Immediately a chorus of arguments breaks out from the group.

“OKAY! Okay, forget I asked,” he says with a shake of his head, while Mayday just laughs at the commotion.

They spot the two of you walking into the cafeteria making conversation none of them could make out.

“Look at them,” Gwen says, “have you ever seen the guy happier than he is with her?” she asks, and Hobie snorts.

“C’mon mate, you call that happy? Mans got that frown tattooed on his face, can he even be happy?” he says, but they all continue watching intently.

You glance over to the table they were surrounding, and they all brush off your gaze pretending as though they weren’t just studying the two of you like specimens under a microscope.

You wave your hand, a bright smile on your face while Miguel only glances over for a moment before continuing to walk. You jog to catch up to him, grabbing a tray and picking up things you wanted for lunch.

They watch as they see Miguel pick up the empanada, the last one left. He pauses for a split second, holding it before turning to place it on your tray. Almost as though they were straight out of a cartoon, they freeze at the interaction.

You seem to be slightly surprised as you, saying something to him but he only brushes you off before continuing on.

“Did…that just happen?” Pavitr asks. Everyone at HQ was aware of Miguel’s fondness for the food (even if he did hurl one right at Miles when they first met), there was no way he would give one away so easily for just anyone, right?

“Somebody pinch me,” Gwen says, and Hobie jumps at the request.

“OW!”

~

Miguel never lets anyone help him out when he’s injured. That was just a known fact. He could walk into HQ battered and bruised and wouldn’t even look in the infirmary’s direction once. After depending on himself for so long, he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, what were First Aid kits for after all?

The only way he was going to the infirmary was if someone dragged his unconscious body there themselves.

Well, unless you were there.

“Miguel O’Hara I swear to god, you better get your ass to the infirmary or so help me I will tie you up and drag you through the halls myself,” you say sternly as you both reemerge in the Lobby. The rest of the Spiders there continued with what they were doing, but their attention was zeroed in on you both.

“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at you as if trying to say ‘Just try’. Had you been anyone else, you would have backed down by now but you didn’t.

“You wanna test me right now? That was a nasty hit, I will not be letting it get infected under my watch,” you retort, and he puffs.

“This is nothing, I’ve dealt with worse,” he scoffs, and in an instant your finger shoots out, making contact with the side that got hit with the anomaly’s flames. Miguel can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the pain from the impact hits him.

Your eyebrow raises, an expression of disbelief on your face before it softens. Murmuring softly, you say something that only he can hear.

For a moment he studies your face before sighing, finally relenting. With a triumphant smile, you place a hand on the man’s broad back, leading him towards the infirmary with a gentle but firm hand.

There, Pavitr is laying in bed recovering from an awry mission of his own. The doctors had ordered bedrest for the next 2 hours at least. Superior healing or not, they were not going to risk it. So there he lay, slinging his golden bangles up and down bored before he hears the two of you come in.

“Mr. O’Hara-" a doctor’s voice can be heard, but he is quickly interrupted.

“She’s got it from here,” he says, Miguel’s tone final. A small “yes, sir” can be heard before footsteps fade away, the doctor’s office door closing once more.

“You know, you should really let the professionals help you,” your voice can be heard.

“You dragged me here, you can deal with the consequences,” he says, and you just laugh fondly before your voices quieten, murmuring too quietly for Pavitr to hear.

Curiosity builds as he recalls the conversation he and his friends had, and before he can stop himself he shifts silently to the side, just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of you both from the small gap between the hospital curtain and the wall.

There, Miguel sat on the bed, a disgruntled expression on his face but his eyes were soft as he watched you fuss over his side.

He only watches for a few seconds before pulling away, this being a clear invasion of privacy, and his boss’ privacy no less.

It wasn’t going to stop him from telling everyone else though.

~

“This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea,” Miles says, grasping onto the ceiling like his life depended on it.

“It’s only a bad idea if we get caught, so Shut. Up,” Gwen says sharply, hanging from her place on the ceiling as they watched the fight from above.

Gwen had come up with the mighty fine idea of sneaking into a mission between the two of you. It wasn’t often that it happened, Miguel more often than not only went on missions with only Lyla by his side. But when he needed a partner, it was always you.

“Why did you have to bring me with you,” he whispers, “Miguel already doesn’t like me. He doesn’t need more of a reason to.”

“Because I needed backup and you can turn invisible. And let’s be real, Hobie would be laughing his ass off getting us caught, Peter would bring Mayday which would get us caught, and Pavitr is already on a mission, now shhh,” she whispers, turning back to watching the scene below.

You swung from pillar to pillar in the abandoned factory with practiced ease, a carefree laugh escaping your lips as Miguel stands on the ground fiddling with his watch.

“The anomaly’s last known location was here,” Lyla’s voice echoes out, and you let out a sigh.

“Why can’t villains have easy powers. Maybe a giant blob that is easy to take down? Why do they have to be so complicated? What’s this one again, a freaky shadow monster?” you think out loud.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Miguel retorts, glancing up toward you for a moment before turning back to Lyla. “Do a scan of the place, will you?”

“What do we say~” Lyla responds, and you giggle softly while Miguel huffs.

“Please,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“Please, Lyla,” he says a little louder now, irritation growing in his voice.

“Already done,” the AI snickers, and he groans out loud as your laughter bounces off of the walls, a fist held out for Lyla to bump.

“The two of you will be the death of me,” he says lowly.

“Oh, don’t be like that, grumps. You’d be too stubborn to die,” you retort before tensing up, the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the familiar feeling of your heightened senses at work. The moment you sling yourself up is the moment a loud thud sounds out from where you once stood.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that the anomaly was in the far right corner,” Lyla says before disappearing.

“I really need to do a rewrite of her code,” Miguel mutters to himself.

In your previous spot emerges a dark figure, plumes of smoke emerging and dissipating from its form and allowing it to disappear into the shadows with ease.

With a simple nod, you get to work. Like a well-oiled machine, you work in practiced synchrony, bounding across the walls and slinging webs.

And just like that the anomaly is captured, the force field around it effectively trapping it for the ride back to HQ so it can be sent back to its own universe.

“That was…kinda lame,” you snicker, pulling off your mask

“Told you so,” Miguel says as he opens up a portal for you both, dragging the anomaly behind him.

“Don’t say that to me,” you pout.

“What, can’t handle the truth?” he retorts, a smirk playing across his lips as your bickering voices fade through the portal.

“…was that a smile,” Gwen asks as she watches the spot where they both had stood.

“Was that what it was?” Miles asks, a shudder racking through his body.

~

It was late at night at the HQ, and at this time everyone else had already gone back to their own universes. The few that lingered were the ones finishing up after a late-night mission.

Or, you were Peter B. Parker frantically searching through the kitchen for a bottle of milk for Mayday after a playdate with a select few spiders that went on for way longer than expected.

Mayday was an easy baby. Always happy and smiling, but that all disappears when she was hungry and you did not want a spider baby on a rampage.

“Alright, alright, give Daddy a few seconds to warm up your milk please?” Peter pleads as Mayday continues to babble angrily, crawling all over him.

She pauses for a moment, attention drawn elsewhere as she hangs off of her father’s back before leaping.

“Hey, lil spider!” You say with a laugh, catching her in your arms. “What are you doing here so late?” you ask.

“Playdate with Miles, Gwen and Hobie. Time really flew and she refused to leave until now,” Peter sighs tiredly, and you pat him on the back before putting her up onto your shoulders. “What are you doing here so late?”

You shrug, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Working late. Like you said, time really flew,” you say, but Peter knew that wasn’t the full truth.

“Working so hard that you need two cups of coffee?” he asks, holding out the bottle for Mayday to take, which is what she does happily as she snuggles up in her father’s arms.

“What can I say, caffeine doesn’t really work on me,” you grin, pouring the coffee from the machine. “Goodnight, Peter, Mayday,” you say, ruffling her red hair fondly.

And as quickly as you appeared, you disappear.

~

People didn’t often disturb the big boss man Miguel when he was working. Not if you wanted to stay on his good side.

It was even less often that someone barges into his room full of screens as he monitors the Archno-Humanoid Polymultiverse, let alone a group of them.

“We heard you talking to someone! And laughing,” Gwen says hesitantly as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. But she was invested in figuring out what the deal was between the two of you now.

“Well, do you see anyone around?” Miguel deadpans, his arms wide and gesturing around broadly. You could barely stifle the giggle as you sat on a beam high up on the ceiling, going unnoticed.

“W-well, no…But!” she says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow which makes Gwen shrink in her spot slightly before recovering. “But we heard you. There was someone here, wasn’t there?”

Hobie, ever the perceptive one tracks his eyes along the ceiling before spotting you swinging your legs with an amused look on your face. It seemed as though no one else had noticed though.

Miguel watches Hobie spot you and his eyes narrow in his direction, as if saying ‘I dare you to say anything’ to which the spider only raises his hands in mock surrender.

“No. There wasn't." He says, his tone final. "If that’s all you’re here for, I have important work to get to. So why don’t you go bother someone else, yeah?”

~

“I give up,” Gwen says, slumping in her chair. “We’re never going to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Jess asks, walking up to the group.

“Whether or not there is something going on between those two,” Miles says, nodding towards you and Miguel talking over in the corner of the room.

Jessica only hums, a knowing look in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything. Only asks a simple question.

“What makes you think so?”

“Everyone here knows that there’s something there, even if they want to admit it or not. She’s one of the few people he tolerates, they’re together almost all the time and he actually seems happy around her,” Gwen reasons.

“You could have just asked, you know,” you say, coming up on their conversation with an amused look on your face.

Their expressions range from flustered to simply amused and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as you make eye contact with Jess.

“And to answer the question,” you reach down your suit, pulling out a simple chain with a ring dangling off of the end.

“We’re actually married.”

The group goes silent for a moment, eyes wide as they stare at the necklace in your hands, trying to process your words.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

A/N: Hehe, I'm quite happy with this one :3 This is my first attempt at writing Miguel, sorry if I butchered him but I am absolutely hyperfixating on him after seeing ATSV in theatres yesterday.

Based on the prompt by @imslightlycreative though slightly changed :)) I hope you all enjoyed <3

[chiliiscereal]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Original Character - Relationship, Thorin Oakenshield & Original Character(s), Kili Durin and original characters, The Durin Family (Tolkien) & Original Female Character(s) Characters: Thorin Oakenshield, Kíli (Tolkien), Bilbo Baggins, Fíli (Tolkien), Gandalf | Mithrandir, Thorin's Company Additional Tags: During The Hobbit Series: Part 1 of Of two worlds (the hobbit) Summary:

Gale doesn’t want to go with her mentor on a journey. There are some things even a wizard like Gandalf can’t protect his apprentice from: her family. Most of her life has been spent either with her mother and her father (one of the princes under the mountain) or as Gandalfs apprentice. She’d met her fathers brother, Thorin Oakenshield, only once and once was enough. It’s hard to love someone who despises you for what you are or for the choices your father made. What if the rest of her family have the same opinion of her, specifically of what her mother was? Well, she’d find out eventually. It’s not like she has a choice in the matter. Gandalf is convinced this trip is exactly what she needs, seeing as she has spent most of her years with little interaction and doesn’t know how to work magic yet. She’ll just have to figure out how to survive her stoic uncle, over enthusiastic older cousin, defeat a dragon, and learn magic all without letting them know she’s half elf. (Btw I’m still new to AO3 so I don’t know how a lot of tags work! This is all platonic found family and Gale is my OC)

[pastadorable]

Im excited for mutant mayhem and all but…it really feels like im losing my boys here

[chiliiscereal]

Hamato Elisabetta Sirani

Human culture

Summary: the Hamato family begins to explore what it means to be human

Year 2

Mikey colored the flaps green while Sirani drew crooked lines on the actual box.

"Turtle turtle turtle!" They chanted as they drew.

  Splinter had sat himself in front of the tv, telling the younger two to go entertain themselves. A single rat dad needed a break every now and then.

"What are you two doing." Donnie asked, raising a brow from his spot on the couch. He flipped a page of the scrounged National Geographic without taking his eyes off them. "I'm trying to read."

"Turtle shell!" Sirani exclaimed. "For me!"

"That won't actually protect you, you know." He flipped through another page, absorbing the information. "You'd need something harder than cardboard."

The two ignored him.

She attempted to connect the lines on the top but wasn't big enough to reach.

So she climbed onto the box, sitting on the top.

There was tape.

Surely it would hold.

"Why do you even want a shell anyway?" Donnie continued. "It's not going to make you a turtle."

Sirani stood up. "Marker."

  Mikey handed the black marker to her and continued his work.

"Seriously, why do you want it?"

"Like you." She answered, crouching to connect the lines on the box. "Turtle."

"You're not a turtle though!" He exclaimed as he set his magazine down. "You can't just change what you are."

"Can so." She argued back.

"Really. Do tell." He slid off the couch.

"Magic."

"Magic isn't real."

"Is."

"It's not!"

"Yes it is!" Mikey joined in. "Sirani can do it!"

"Not this again." Donnie pinched the bridge of his nose. "That was a lie you told dad!"

"No!"

Sirani didn't remember doing any sort of Magic. Leo was the one that could do Magic. Not her.

"Dad says stop being loud!" Raph announced before he came into the room. "And he says Donnie needs to stop being mean."

"I'm not being mean!" Donnie shouted. "I'm being realistic!"

"Mean." Mikey accused.

"Mean!" Sirani agreed.

"I am not!"

"Donnie's being mean!" Leo called out, joining them. "Dad! Put him in the corner!"

"Red! Handle this! Be a good big brother." Was all Splinter offered. He wasn't about to miss his favorite commercial for another fight.

Sirani ignored the bickering and continued on the turtle shell. They'd let her play their games with her once it was done.

"It's not real! Why is no one agreeing with me? I'm right!"

"It's not real but let them pretend! Sirani! Get down from there! You'll fall!" Raph raced over and attempted to pull her off but he got swiped at with a marker.

She wasn't done.

"Why? What's the point? She can't grow up thinking she's something she's not!" Donnie yelled, beyond frustrated with the four of them.

"It's a GAME!"  Raph shouted back, angry at both Donnie and Sirani. He could practically see the tape holding her up tearing.

"I DON'T CARE!"

"Donatello!" Splinter shouted from the other room, the sound of the tv shutting off.

Everyone was quiet.

Donnie's eyes were wide.

Leo hid behind the couch.

Sirani crawled under the turtle shell box, lifting it for Mikey to join. He wasted no time in diving under there with her.

Only the two that had been shouting were left standing in the deserted room.

"Raphael. Donatello. Come to my room. Now."

Sirani listened to them walk to their dad, peaking from underneath the box.

Donnie was wrong.

She COULD change what she was.

If her brothers were turtles then she could be one as well.

——————-

"It's not right!" Donnie argued. He crossed his arms and pushed away his angry tears. He hated crying in front of people.

"My son, you are being cruel AND loud." Splinter shut the tv off, tapping the remote on the table. "Do not shout at them. They are trying to have fun."

  "We don't stop you from doing things with us because you have a soft shell." Raph argued, crossing his arms.

  "That's different!" Donnie's face flushed angrily.

  "Is not!"

  "Is so!"

  "Boys! Stop!" Splinter shouted. "Donatello, apologize to your sister." He set the remote on the table.

  "But-!"

  "If i hear one more thing about her not being a turtle, I will take away your tools for a month." He leaned back in his chair.

  "A month??"  Donnie exclaimed.

Donnie didn't win that fight.

He walked angrily out.

Splinter wasn't done yet. "Raphael. I trusted you to take care of this. I missed my show and now look at your brothers and sister. YOU are oldest." He gave him a serious look. "YOU are in charge."

Raph didn't know why he was also in trouble. But he nodded anyway. He WAS oldest.

In a way... it sort of was his fault.

HE was supposed to keep them from fighting.

HE was supposed to make sure they didn't make dad mad.

It was HIS job.

  "Glad you understand." Splinter nodded.

——-

Raph walked out, finding his little brother painting their sisters hand green. The both of them sat on the carpet, paint dripping from the brush.

"Hey! What are you doing?" He raced over quickly and took the brush.

"Turtle." She answered, reaching for the missing item. "Imma turtle."

  He grabbed a napkin off the table and wiped the paint off immediately. "Rani, look what you did! Dad's going to be so mad!"

  "No!" She argued, trying to pull away.

  "My art!" Mikey shouted.

  "You guys were gonna make a mess!" Raph explained. "You don't need to paint your hand!"

Sirani reached for the paint with her other hand but Raph pulled it away.

  "Why don't we read?" He offered but she shook her head. She sat down and pouted, arms crossed.

  Her pouting stopped when Raph pulled out a book.

A book with people on the cover.

  "You know enough about us. Let's learn about you." He pulled her into his side and opened it, happy that he now had her and Mikey's attention. She clumsily wiped her tears away and Mikey immediately curled into his other side. "Just until Donnie calms down. Then we can all go play something."

They both nodded.

Sirani was still mad but reluctantly leaned closer to see the pages.

She hoped it wasn't the princess game as well. She'd rather pretend to be a ninja.

————-

  "You have five fingers on each hand and five toes on each foot." He explained as he flipped the page.

  She held out her hand for him to see. "Five!"

  "Yeah!"

He counted each one for her and she counted along with him. She didn't know if the number had changed. She never knew.

She turned her attention back to the book, hand still resting on Raph's arm.

There were so many people.

All of them were so different.

All of them looked different than her. But they all had no shells. They all had more than six fingers. They all didn't have green skin.

  "Where?" She asked, tapping the page and squeezing his hand a bit to interrupt his talking.

  "Where is what?" Raph frowned.

  "People."

  "People?"

  "Other people." She clarified. "Like me."

  "Oh. Um. I know there's some in New York."

She didn't know where that was,

"Did you go?"

  "Once."

  "Did you see people?"

  "No. I was only there for a little bit. Dad says we're not ready to go."

Mikey nodded in confirmation.

  "Me?" She asked, turning to shake his arm before he could keep reading.

He frowned. "What about you?"

She tapped her chest for emphasis. "Me. Did I go?"

He thought for a second and looked at Mikey for help.

Mikey shrugged, equally confused. He didn't know what she was saying. Most of the time he himself didn't know what he was saying.

"Before." She spoke, growing frustrated. "With other people?"

"I... I don't know."

Splinter hadn't explained where Sirani had come from. He just told them not to bring it up.

Sirani frowned for a moment. "How?"

"I just don't."

"But how?"

"Let's keep reading."

Raph showed them big cities.

Small cities.

Older cities.

New cities.

Farms.

Holidays.

Different cultures.

Different languages.

  "Dad tried to teach us Japanese a while ago but it didn't really stick with all of us." Raph told her. "Remember, Mikey?" He turned to their orange speckled brother.

  "I remember!" Mikey exclaimed. "I didn't understand anything!"

  "Me too." Leo came from behind the couch. "I don't remember a lot though." He shrugged at the look Raph gave him. "What? I have snacks back there, you can't blame me for staying behind the couch for so long."

He leaned against Raph's spiked shell and watched over his shoulder.

  The four of them sat on the floor (most of them just looking at the pictures). Leo had fallen asleep against Raph's shell. Mikey had his head resting against his knee. Sirani sat contently in his lap and admired the pictures.

Donnie watched from his bedroom doorway. He hadn't meant to make Sirani feel that way. He had apologized (half heartedly) but she wouldn't look at him. She and Mikey had continued painting.

Mikey seemed to be her favorite.

He wanted to be her favorite.

He wanted to sit over there with them.

Correct some things that were said, sure, but to be in their company as they showed their little sister what she was a part of.

He wanted to be the one who read to her.

He wanted to be the one she looked to.

"Dad?"

"Yes purple?"

"I have a question."

——————-

"Do you all have your coats? It's getting cold."

"Almost." Raph answered, zipping up Sirani's jacket for her. She had protested but couldn't do it alone. Her mittens simply wouldn't let her. Raph opted to let her get her hat on instead.

  Winter was right around the corner. Normally they stayed in the lair where the cold couldn't reach them. But today they were venturing outside.

Sirani was finally going to be shown New York.

  They were all stuffed in winter coats and winter hats to the point where they couldn't walk.

  "I can't find my hattttt!" Mikey whined, shuffling up to Splinter. "I'm gonna be colddddd..." he melted onto the floor, upset that he couldn't figure out where he left it.

"I told you to be ready an hour ago, Orange." Splinter groaned, searching his own coat pockets for a hat to give his youngest son.

"I warned him Dad." Leo shrugged, leaning on Donnie's shoulder. "He was too busy looking at that Christmas magazine we found."

Donnie brushed his twin away, simply wanting to head outside.

   "Mine." Sirani dropped her hat onto her melted brother. It landed flatly on his shoulder. He sat up and plopped it on, meltdown over. 

   "Your head will be cold, Rani." Raph argued, pulling his own off to give to her. "You'll get sick."

  She pushed it away. "Hair!" She pointed at her dark hair. "I'm warm!" She pointed at him. "No hair. You'll be cold!" She reached up for his hand instead. She didn't really know where they were headed but she was still excited to go. Her brothers were taking forever to get ready.

"Purple, you need to wear socks with your boots." Splinter grabbed a pair off the floor and handed them to the reluctant boy.

  "I don't like when they roll down." He grumbled. "It bothers me."

  Leo took the socks and shoved them into his hands. "Wear them. I'm not sharing a room with you if your feet are going to smell!"

"I didn't want to share with you anyway." Donnie grumbled and took them.

Finally, they were ready.

  Splinter took Sirani and Raph took Mikey as they climbed the ladder to the surface.

She had never left the lair before. So when the cold air hit her face and white things flew down from above, she didn't know what to do. Splinter set her down on the white ground to help the rest off the ladder.

The ground was crunchy.

And her boots left marks in it.

She stomped around, fascinated.

She reached for the ground and retracted her hand quickly.

It was also cold.

And wet.

It was coming from above too.

And there wasn't a ceiling either.

Buildings surrounded her.

She could hear loud noises.

Voices.

Honking.

Bright colors.

She glanced back at her father and brothers, waiting for Raph to reach the top of the ladder.

She turned away, wanting to find more things.

There were some black bags.

Old boxes.

Some full, some not.

One was already empty.

She giggled and clambered into it. The sides pressed into her as she snuggled in, away from the cold and watching her brothers.

Mikey ran over to her the second he was out of Raph's arms, tumbling into the box as well.

The both of them giggled.

Splinter stopped when he saw the two of them in there.

She was so much bigger now.

She could walk, she could talk, and she was part of them now.

And it all started with a little box.

He lifted them each out in turns. "Come, up the ladder."

Sirani insisted she could climb the ladder herself.

She was big enough.

But her dad didn't agree so she got carried up once again.

Higher and higher.

Finally, she could see where they were.

The crowds.

The traffic.

The constant noise.

Bright signs and many shops and buildings.

"New York!" She exclaimed. "New York New York New York!" She jumped out of splinters hands and peered carefully over the edge of the building. "Pretty." She observed.

She never knew they lived under New York.

She hadn't even known where they lived at all.

Raph kept his arm between her and the edge. "Careful ok? You could fall."

She wasn't scared of heights.

She loved them.

She got as close as she was allowed.

People.

Real people.

Everywhere.

Some were happy.

Some were yelling at eachother.

She could understand some.

Others she couldn't.

Splinter gathered them all together as they ooo'ed and ahhhh'ed. "Welcome to New York." He patted Leo's shoulder. "Do you boys remember the last time you were here?"

  "It was warm last time." Donnie complained quietly.

  "Hey you wanted to go here it was your idea." Leo rolled his eyes.

Donnie shut his mouth and kept his anger to himself. This wasn't for him.

"So many lights!" Sirani gasped. "And trees! And old men! And red! And boxes!"

  "This is what humans call 'Christmas'." Splinter told the 5. "The old man is Santa. He flies around the world and gives toys in boxes to good children."

  "How come he's never been to OUR home?" Leo whined. "You never even told us about him."

  "That's because you were bad before." Splinter threw out quickly. "But, I heard from Santa that you all have been very very good and you might get a visit."

Sirani looked at Mikey excitedly. "Presents!"

  "Toys!" He responded, equally as happy.

  "Creepy old man in our house." Leo chuckled. "But hey as long as we get toys I'm happy."

Sirani was in awe.

The world was... so much bigger than she thought it could be. There was more to it than the lair. More people.

"Where do they all live?" Mikey asked.

"In those buildings. Sometimes they have jobs in buildings as well."

She had never seen someone like her that wasn't on tv.

She almost couldn't believe it.

"Come back?" She asked, looking up at splinter.

He sighed. He knew she needed this. Yet, it wasn't safe. "Another time." He promised. "Maybe we can go to a playground sometime and you can all play."

  "With more people?" She asked again. "Like me?"

She tugged on his sleeve when he said nothing.

  He knew he couldn't promise that. That REALLY wouldn't be safe.

"We will see." He said instead.

"Someone my size." She went on. "Maybe she will have dark hair. Like me. And we can play and dance and draw and jump and do everything together."

"Maybe."

[chiliiscereal]

To draw more attention to rise of the tmnt I had an idea for the rottmnt.hype man tik tok account:

Drawing the first person that my fyp gives me in the rottmnt style (with permission of course)

Thoughts?

[chiliiscereal]

I decided to redraw my boys in the cute scenes because they’re cute scenes and I love them :)

Brotherly love

(Nickelodeon you better bring them back)

Ah classic noogie-ing the dumbass who almost got himself killed

(Nickelodeon I swear to pizza supreme in the sky if you don’t give my boys another season I will booby trap your houses. But not the animators and writers and directors of course because I love them)

And sweet sweet Angelo in heart sunglasses I love him

(I will continue to DM both you and Netflix every day for the rest of my life and you will never feel peace)

(If you need episode ideas I have so many)

[kawaiibunga]

Colin Stein #Krangified on Twitter

“#RiseoftheTMNTmovie art contest! You have until August 31st to draw any #RiseoftheTMNT character(s) as if they were #Krangified! Respond to this tweet with your artwork and use the hashtags so we can #SaveRiseoftheTMNT!”

I feel like participating (not to win the key, but to save RiseTMNT !)

But …

Can Yokai characters be Krangified ?

I don’t know …

[chiliiscereal]

I want to do it so badddddd

I’m so sorry Sirani I love you but I want the key

[chiliiscereal]

Go watch the show and movie they deserve a chance!

[chiliiscereal]

So pretty sure it was mostly my dad and I keeping the Rise! Movie trending lol (mostly joking). I FINALLY got him to give the movie and show a chance but the problem is: he only has free time to watch it late at night and he gets tired really fast. So we watched the movie to the end every night for a week. We would start where he fell asleep last time and I would continue to watch it while he was asleep in his chair. I’ve seen it 7 times already and it doesn’t get old :3

And I think he liked it haha

We got another one lads

I’m pretty happy he likes it because he was convinced it was dumb and that it was nothing compared to the one he grew up with.

I also caught him quoting splinter the other day lol

Nickelodeon, tmnt fans of other versions, please recognize how loved this show is.

I know it might not be your favorite version but that’s no excuse to hate on it and rate it badly. Our show got cancelled before it was given a chance. It honestly makes no sense when we’re all fans.

Please give it a chance.

@nickelodeon (I hope that’s the right account but if not my bad please ignore it)

[chiliiscereal]

What I want for ROTTMNT season 3

———-

. The same structure of episodes

I liked when they were 14 minutes long, with 2 parts to each episode. I liked that each episode was different. It was enjoyable! Nickelodeon should keep it that way (except for finales of course)

. April and Donnie

Their whole dynamic (platonic or romantic) is so well written and it makes me laugh every time. I want more moments with them! I want shenanigans, hazmat suits, failed experiments, the works!

. Christmas episode or beach episode

I just want them all to be happy tbh. Low stakes, very sweet episode. Maybe see Donnie’s fear of beachballs. Maybe one of the turtles (probs Raph) was scared of Santa as a kid or maybe he goes through a whole episode trying to figure out what to get everyone. It would be so enjoyable.

And of course the boys would get new swimsuit outfits. And for the Christmas episode they’d spend the whole time in matching Christmas pajamas.

. Why Todd is considered a villain

He was considered “as bad as they come” by the gargoyles, and I have a feeling it wasn’t just a comedic mistake. Todd also has his own forge and survived a KRAANG APOCALYPSE! How?? Surely there’s secretly another side to him.

. How the turtles met April

Seriously, we never learned how they met her. I just want a sweet turtle tot episode where we see how their dynamics are formed and Aprils parents thinking they’re imaginary friends. I want sneaking around, splinter not realizing they’re friends with a human, popsicles, baked treats, and lots of trouble. ALL OF IT!!

. More Señor Hueso

I just love how he interacts with Leo. Maybe we get to meet his son who is supposedly going to be out through “bone college” because of all the pizza they buy. I bet he and Mikey would get along.

. Them fangirling over the fact that Lou Jitsu is their dad

I feel like they accepted it too easily, you know? I want questions, I want to know what happened to Splinters mom, and I want Hamato Clan lore!! I would also like to see how splinter adjusted to raising the boys and coming to terms with being a rat. It had to be hard. Maybe even find out what happened to the rest of the Hamato clan!

. The evil dentist

I just know we were gonna get an episode where he tries to go after Raph’s tooth. It was hinted at near the end of his episode. Raph maybe hides it from his brothers and tries to handle it on his own but they eventually figure it out and help him and he learns he doesn’t have to do it all on his own.

. No Venus and Jenika

I’m sorry but Nickelodeon needs to explore other dynamics and find a way to make their introduction feel natural if they’re actually going to do it. I’m sorry and I know it’s unpopular but I think we’d all hate it if they did it wrong. If they’re introduced it needs to be the right way and after Nickelodeon stops ignoring the existing family.

.MORE CASSANDRA MORE CASSANDRA

I just think she’s cool 😎

Also her and Raph would be good sparring buddies I believe. Also she should get anger management with Dr. Delicate touch

. ALL THE MISSING EPISODES WE WERE DENIED AND BARON DRAXUM AGAIN (being a lunch lady)

^ it speaks for itself :3

I’d also think it would be funny if he made friends with a little kid and he accidentally landed himself a job as a babysitter and he takes it cause he needs more money. He finally let’s go of the yokai vs. humans shenanigans

AND WE NEED THE EPISODE WITH MIKEY BEING RESPONSIBLE FOR THE TURTLE TOTS

. Also I’d love an episode where someone (either jerk blond girl or Dale) accidentally gets a picture of the turtles without realizing and they have to try to get the phone and delete it

. April denying that she wants a prom date and the boys all try to find her one. Then when they don’t find anyone and they can tell April is disappointed they all show up for her in human disguises

. The day April gets accepted to that college and the turtles have to cope with the fact that they now won’t see her every day

. More witches

. An episode on Karai and how Shredder came to be through her side of the story

And last but not least:

An actual season 3!!!

Nickelodeon, wake up and see how amazing this show is!!

(If you guys have any other ideas or things you want to see please let me know because funsies)

[chiliiscereal]

Was reading your Stranger Things oneshots on Wattpad and I loved them

Aww thank you!

[chiliiscereal]

hey do u think you’ll continue your chosen last series anytime soon? :)

I actually have it in my drafts and it’s almost done! I just forget to continue it lol

[chiliiscereal]

Why would you do that to me 😭 Don't get me wrong, your peter parker x reader is amazing BUT WHY😭

Because I love angst 😈

[chiliiscereal]

What’s your wattpad?!?!?!🤭🤭

It’s noandisaidno lol