Glimmer From She-ra

Oiling gears and Changing shifts: Part 1,<Next!>

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Oh hey look I’m making a comic! Ngl not entirely happy with this but welp that’s what practice is for XD

Fic: Stand ready

Tw: for suicidal idealisation and overall semi-unhealthy coping mechanisms

A Storm is brewing.

Or alternatively, Future!Mikey’s teachings on the importance of healthy emotional regulation vs Future!Leo’s influence of bury the pain away with laughs: Fight!

Or even more alternatively, a look into Cj’s no good, very terrible mental health :’D

_

Cj was making his rounds again. Round and round the large platform that served as a living room, up the stairs towards the boarded up subway entrance.Look left, look right. Look up. Always check up. Go back down, circle around the living room, switch up one or two locations for unpredictability then repeat. Armoured Boots gliding along the concrete tiles in practiced silence.

He knows he doesn't have to do it. Logically speaking he knows there is nothing there. As soon as he could, Donatello or-uh Donnie had this place rigged to galore with motion sensors, cameras, the occasional laser grid that if anyone asked, Case would deny ever being there. Nope. Nuh-uh he saw nothing. Scouts honour, whatever that meant. In the future he had come from, they were always saying funny things like that. Nice to see it remained even now. Funnier now that he finally understood those references. Kidna.

Heck, Cj was there, he even helped wire (under close supervision from the genius but helped nonetheless) some of the circuitry together for a few of those cameras. Even younger and less experienced, the purple softshell was still leagues ahead of whatever modern human society could concoct. And alongside a smattering of future foresight here and there, Casey was pretty sure not even a rat (sorry Master Splinter) could crawl through the grills without Donnie knowing.

But something about today makes the boiling rage-guilt-homesickness-why why why did you leave me?-scream louder, rebelling against the very idea of joining the sleeping family pile together in the living room.

So weapon in hand, Cj walks. Forcing himself into the familiar exhaustion of patrol. Lest he end up kicking one of them or break down crying or say something he would regret or all of the above. Either way none great options. They will welcome him, this he knows. He knows. But here, right now there is absolutely nothing that he hated more than that. Which was absolutely the fuck why he had to go.

(“Master Michelangelo No! You’re gonna-!” He tries to run towards the glowing golden figure, he has to do something. Anything. If he could just pour even a little of his own mystic into his uncle-dad- oh fuckthey’llnevergetto talkboutwhyhecalledhimdad-

But a steady blue grips at his shoulder and holds him back. It smiles sadly. NononoPaSensei pleaseno- Casey wants to wail but the words won’t come. -I can’t go through this again.

Casey can pinpoint exactly when that crackling, soothing fire roars, scorching louder than it ever has, before sputtering out, warm golden-orange swallowed by the uncompromising void the boy had so come to hate, mere seconds before the spotted turtle turns, winks. And shatters into the wind.

Somewhere distantly, he can feel unyielding, passionate green gutter out and shrivel up like the leaves they fry up to eat. So much death. Too much void. And that was only the ones he could feelrightnow- oh fuckPush it down. Push it down.

“Casey..” The pit in his stomach grows. No. But the words choke in his throat and his feet glue themselves into the ruined ground. Damn it! Why can’t he move!?

“..Grab a slice!” The slider does not follow. He hangs back, smiling. Like a burden has been lifted from his shoulders.

Cj can feel exactly when that comforting, fiery, electrifying blue flickers dangerously low, because despite what Pa himself thinks. It was never gone. Never.

But it fizzles out now.

And all Casey can do now is watch in tandem as that disgusting, searing red torches away the man who has guided him his whole life. There is no way to survive this. The medic thinks numbly. He has bandaged blackened, crumbing body tissue he dare not identity from survivors (not for long) just grazed by that. Thing. The facts are in front of Casey. There.Is.No.Way.

He’s not as smart as Uncle Tello, not quick with his words like Pa , or as compassionate like D-Uncle Mi, neither is he relentless as Mom nor resourceful as Auntie April. He’s only always been emotional which is why he has to push it down,down, down.

So he can only scream and scream and scream as the golden-orange that has cradled him all his life carries him far, far away.

Why did you send me away?

Why didn’t you let me help?

Why didn’t you come with me?)

Dee hisses, turning his face away form Case in discomfort. Case panics, causing him to stumble back as the tangle of limbs stirs slightly. Oh shit, he always forgot what a light sleeper both Donatellos were. Immediately, Cj claps his hands over his mouth. Muffling his ragged breathing that had unknowingly pitched itself into high pitched whines while he took that involuntary trip down memory lane.

Heart beating furiously. Even dampened, his hushed breathing still punctuates the silence of the lair. In and out Case. A voice that sounds suspiciously like Uncle Mi echoes in his mind. Shut the fuck up. He snarls back, like a cornered animal. You don’t get to nag me. You’re dead.

Before the sting of regret immediately slaps him in the face. Ohmigosh how can he think that? Mortified, he buries his head into his hands. Ok new plan. Patrol clearly wasn’t going to cut it anymore. He had to do something else. Gingerly, the teen peeks through his fingers to look back at the group, grateful to see that the soft-shell ’s face had once again gone slack the way only proper sleep could do.

With a sigh of relief, Case then marches towards to the sleeping pile. Cj clenches and unclenches his jaw, trying to work out the very words stuck in his throat. “I.. I..” Cmon Casey, he grouses to himself. Fists clenching. Get it together. Just say this once so you can get it over with.

"I.. I’m sorry. " The teen finally spits out, standing over the sleeping faces of humans, turtles and rat alike. So young and so painfully free of worry. "I know you’re not them. And I..” His breath hitches. Years of training and experience kicks in to even out his breathing. Uneven meant loud. Loud meant danger. Deep breathe in, deep breathe out. Deep Sigh. Now talk.

“.. But the people I’m angry at aren’t here. And I miss them so much. I miss everything so much. And that’s so fucked I know.” Casey groans, pausing to quickly scrub away the tears. Terrified that if even one fell, it would somehow wake the sleeping pile up.

“I should have died. I know I should have died. Im just some stupid kid who got lucky enough to be loved by powerful people like you. There were so many people so much better than me you know?” The ravenette warbles, wrapping his arms around himself.

“They deserve to be here. But all you have is me.” Casey cracks,Oh god Miwa, baby-NO. He squeezes his eyes shut. Push it down, now. Otherwise he will start full on bailing which will defeat the whole purpose of this feelings exercise. Push it down. Breathe. Now try again.

“A-and the worst part?” The teen out of time and out of body, throws his head back and laughs bitterly. “I can’t just let myself die because then everything and everyone will be wasted. And fuck-!“ Cj tears at his hair. “I.. I can’t do that to them.”

“And..” Case sighs, hands dropping to his sides. “I can’t do that to you guys either. I promised myself I’ll take care of you guys. And I will.” Calmer, he bends down to get a closer look at them all. My family. His family.

Their peaceful snores finally starting to douse the Anger and grief down to a manageable hiss, not gone. (Huh,guess Da-Uncle Mi was right. Talking does help) Maybe not ever. But today, right now, it released its fangs and uncoiled enough to give way for the blooming softness that always, always thudded beneath his skin. And he’ll make sure it always will. The apocalypse could quite literally come again and freeze itself over before Cassandra Jones Junior ever stopped committing to loving his family. All of them.

“I swear.” He nods his head fiercely. If anyone were awake they would see Cj’s eyes flare up as if glowing from the sheer force of will. “I’m gonna take care of you guys like you take care of me.”

Because he knows these people. They are good. They are so, so good. Even.. even if they will never love him the same. Even if they will never be the people who raised him( he doesn’t want them to be, they were so, so tired). Both were good. Both were so fun and so utterly delightful to be around it hurt. The kind of hurt where you laughed so hard your sides were aching. He didn’t know that kind of hurt could exist till now.

They will treat him well. And even if they didn’t (which they have, he’s so, so lucky they have). Once upon a time, these were once the same people who saw a baby, quietly buried among the rubble, took him in and taught him everything he knows. Despite barely able to feed themselves most days. And that means something to him. It means everything.

And in a way, that was exactly what the present variants were doing all over again. Forging birth certificates, applying for IDs, giving him a room, explaining shampoo, dishwashers, public transport, tv shows, money, making strict meal plans for his sorry,sorry self that couldn’t even stomach bread cuz guess what? Edible Flour and yeast didn’t exist in the apocalypse. Everything. Bringing him into their movie nights, sparring, comic books,lab time, graffiti, magic tricks, news hunting, hockey games.

He still remembers that very first night.

("You're not coming with?" Raphael questions, already halfway out the Medbay.

Once it became clear that was nothing more they could do for Leonardo save Casey's Ninpo that he really, really did not feel up to doing again. The excitement died down and the group gradually began to disperse, grabbing pillows and blankets and heading towards the living room he was previously tied up in. Hah.Good times.

Casey shakes his head. "No, it's alright. Please rest Mas- Raphael." He tries to smile brightly. "Someone has to watch over Leonardo you know? I'm basically the only medic here." Casey shrugs.

Truth be told, Cj wants nothing more than to drop to the ground right then and there. But someone has to monitor the red slider. Pounding headache and fuzzy vision aside (oh shell, this was a concussion wasn’t? Would explain why he’s so irritable) someone had to track the slow but steady up and down on the ECG screen in case things went wrong. He was a little rusty. They didn’t have a lot of those things towards… the end. But he will adjust, he will. It’s what he was here for. He just.. doesn't want to intrude any further.

"Why did'nt you tell us had mystic mojo?"

Something in him breaks

Stop this. I almost killed your brother. I'm just a stranger to you. Why are you being so nice to me? Casey wants to claw at his arms and scream, held back only by the sheer weight of exhaustion and grief that threatens to bury him under.

Just like it buried Pa.

Just like it buried everyone else.

Just like it will bury him.

Unfortunately, Master Splinter did not catch that memo. That or they were more focused on hospitality than he thought. "No. Red is right." Master Splinter huffs. "You are exhausted future boy. You can't do anything like this. Go." The elderly man crosses his arms, using his tail to push him into Raphael's waiting arms. "I will watch over Blue."

"But-"

"C'mon Case lets go." Raphael says gently. A heavy hand that has no right to feel so familiar; rests on his shoulder, guiding him to the living room. Casey shudders, between Leonardo and Raphael it was like being hammered with the world’s worst case of Deja vu.

"There you two are." April grins tiredly.

"Casey!" Michelangelo cheers, making grabby hands towards the boy. They both part from each other to make space for him.

On the far right, his shell against April's side. Donatello spares him a glance before curling further inwards. He doesn't say anything but he doesn't need too. His lack of protest is already enough.)

And it is there right there; nestled between April and Mikey, Raph as a mattress, Donnie curled up at April’s side, And surrounded by more blankets than he has ever seen in his life. Cj tells his already hardened resolve 'I am never leaving them alone'. Even if they never called him family again. As long as they wanted him around, all they had to do was ask. And he will be there. He will.

So yes, the past-er present hamatos were still his family. But was he theirs in return? Or was he just a really good friend? Was he even anything to them at all?

“Bring it in little brother”

“I’m not mad at you”

“I’m not your mother.. but I’m not going to ditch you”

Yet when Case reaches for the warmth that has never ever left him. Not since a ten year old Cj had yearned and screamed and loved with all his heart; let me love you. You are not alone. Let me take care of you like you do for me. Let me fight for you. Let us fight together

It’s cold.

He strains and he strains and he strains. til his metaphorical heart is breaking at the seams-No one answers back.

Not Purple, Not Green, Not Orange, Not even.. Blue.

Thrumming teal pluses sluggishly around his clenched hands before fading out despite all his cloying attempts to keep it beating. Starved of the trust and togetherness that was the very foundation of this clan.

Maybe he deserves it

A rotten boy who left everyone else to die

Some lifesaver he was

Those are the facts. Look for the objective truth. Feelings and words can be Subjective. Casey swallows thickly. Uncle Tello always told him that. So what does it say about the present Hamatos?

A) They were lying, saying all this out of some twisted sense of obligation and no genuine sense of affection. Which scratch that. Even with his foggy memories and what he knows about Casey now. She would never do that. Same goes for everyone else. Family was everything to all of them, even way back here in the past. They guarded that word viciously.

Or B) They were trying for his sake. Or maybe for their own sake too. Trying to fit him into a set that was already complete, but wanting to try anyways so they kept saying it and saying it, In hopes that one day it became true. But it won’t-Not ever. Why would it? What did Case have to offer that they couldn’t already give each other? He almost killed their Leo. He almost broke this family-not quite lying. But not quite telling the truth either. Fake it till you make it as they say. Now; here’s the million dollar question, would they do something like that that?

He thinks of Leo’s breezy smiles but searching jokes.

Donnie’s allowance of him into his lab, but his eyes scrutinise him more closely than anyone else.

Casey’s stubborn once a fortnight ice hockey sessions but firm and awkward conversations.

Mikey’s near constant hand grabbing and pulling and ‘look!look! Check this out!’ at every idle moment, as if fearful of letting Cj out of his sight.

April who jumps at any opportunity to take him topside but scans everything,himself included.

Raph’s near constant,but cautious grip around his shoulders whenever they went somewhere. Unlike his more free, swooping hugs to the others.

Even the occasional spontaneous and mysterious bowl of cut fruit yet halting, stilted exchanges that would occur at his doorway every so often.

Hm.. yes this sounded more like them.

It sours his mouth like rat jerky gone bad. But you swallow it down anyways. Because really what else do you have?

Misplaced Familiarity aside, he has no where else to go. He has no money, no history (Donnie’s forgery and Casey’s manhandling of poor government workers to get him registered under her name, as some previously hermit cousin can only do so much) and no credentials to even hold down a basic part-time job.

Pizza supreme; he can’t even navigate the New York’s train system by himself without getting so overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people he got lost, he had to call Casey (cuz Casey had a van to block out the noise) to come bail him out.

He may not know much about the present. But he’s sure as hell not trying his luck on the streets, he could. Nothing can compare to the apocalypse. But he’s pretty sure his mom will find a way to leave the afterlife just to kill him.

“Cassandra Jones Junior I did not get skewered by Kraang to have you digging around the trash like a goddamn cockroach!” Is something she would say. Not to mention the disappointment from everyone else.

And Case wasn’t sure if he could sleep knowing he stole from some poor shopkeeper just trying to live their life. When there was a gaggle of people right here, more than happy to give him an allowance if he so much as looked at something for more than two seconds. He never thought, in his wildest dreams, he’d have to stop younger variations of his pa and uncles from buying out whole stores yet here he was.

This has to be enough.

And it will be.

He’ll make sure of it.

Mind finally settled, Cj stands, grimacing at the sound of his knees cracking in protest.Eurgh boi, gotta love cursed aging and all the weird and wonderful ways the apocalypse hurled abuse at his body. Good thing Leo wasn’t awake. Or anyone else for that matter. They would tease him relentlessly, swearing to add to a growing pile of blackmail he’s pretty sure doesn’t exist for him, yet. Or they would stare at him in suffocating silence with those pitying eyes which was just so, so much worse.

Carefully, Cj sets his weapon down, still within arms reach, and curls himself into whatever empty space within the pile he can find without disturbing them because he knows at least one of them will be up soon, mainly Mikey with his breakfast prep or Raph with his morning workout, sometimes Casey too, on the rare occasions she would sleep over in the lair with them like now. He tries not to let it bother him too much, the mystic warrior he knew was almost always last to rise.

Case tucks his knees to his chest and flutters his eyes shut. So he can at least try and pretend to them that he slept.

This is enough.

Fic: This is victory (hollow and cold).

Part: One

What if.. Mikey’s portal drags home a cold dead corpse.

I would like to preface this by saying I completely blame @goodlucktai for their amazing Incredible story, raised on little light for putting this idea into my head. Guys go check it out the fic, it’s amazing it makes me so so sad but there is also so many good things in it 😭. Personally speaking I don’t think there’s anything I can write that will ever come close to what Tai can do, but as a famous internet post once said, write your shitty pots. So here we goes ppl

Tw: major character death, grief, suicide idealisation, getting disowned, disassociation, starvation, slight description of injuries and inaccurate medical advice

But I promise, there is still hope even in this.

_

“Casey! When I get to the other side you close that portal!”

Everything stills. The world falls static.

“What..?” A foreign voice enters the fray. Ah. Cj thinks distantly. It’s mine.

A series of thoughts shoots through his mind. Faster than the battle drones Uncle Tello used to make, faster than the joy rides Uncle Mi used to give.

He sees empty eyes, forced smiles. Screaming voices stained with the weight only grief, hunger, thirst and stress can give.

He thinks of Michelangelo in the brief moments he has met the turtle, so bright and so energetic. And then he remembers his Uncle Mi twisted into something quiet, slow and outwardly peaceful.

He remembers Monty, so stoic and so very angry. Yet so very indulgent when it counts. Out in a blaze of guns and glory. Standard-issue shoulder pauldron shoved into shaking hands. You will do great things Princey. He remembers Monty’s mother. Whose name he never got, forever in a daze, staring at walls of nothing. A hallowed husk like so many of the living ghosts that wandered their dusty halls. He remembers Miwa. So tiny, so fragile. So young. Too young. No amount of their anything can ever replace or beat modern medicine.

His Uncle Tello, bitter, grumpy; burnt out and constantly overstimulated from the dirt covered and squishy pink hell they’ve found themselves in. But sometimes on better days he cocks his head to the side, with a face that almost smiles at Cj and says, “Come Jones Junior; I appear to have some scraps we need to dispose off.” Which is code for we’re going to give your Pa an aneurysm and make things go boom.

He remembers his family. Tired, thirsty, hungry, eyes on them constantly. Countless sleepless nights in hushed voices arguing, strategising, weeping. They thought he didn’t hear. But children always have the biggest ears and the longest standing shelter on earth is only so large.

First and foremost. Cj knows. He knows with heart wrenching certainty. If there was any way to make peace with the present Hamatos it would all be over now. They’ll hate him. They will. They will never forgive him for this.

Maybe if this was his Mom, his Auntie April, his Da-Uncle Mi, his Uncle Tello, his Grandpa Drax. Whatever else Master Raphael and Master splinter might have been to him. They might just forgive him but these people are not them. They have not been softened with a lifetime of knowing Cj. He doesn’t have that baby of the family privilege. He doesn’t have any privilege at all. It’s only been a day. Less than that technically.

Even just the thought of being hated by his family. Any version of them, curdles something in his core. Every fiber in his being lashes out and screams at the younger version of his sensei. (Oh but it was Leonardo wasn’t it? Oh, what has he done?) In ways he hasn’t done since he was 8 years old, because poor 8 year old Casey hadn’t quite figured out how to breathe through the hunger pains. I’m a healer. I’m supposed to stop these things. Please, I already let go before you can’t make me do this again-

“Leo no! There has to be another way!”

But this Leonardo says;

“We’ve tried everything Case, he’s too strong”

And deep down Cj knows that too. Much like the lies his family told him. “We can win” He knows otherwise too. Just like if he does this, he knows he’ll be left with nothing too.

But his family will still be here, surrounded by food, clean water, light, and endless amount of comics or magazines they could possibly want. They will be free.

They will never know gnawing hunger or sapping thirst, nor will they know the ever present hum of runhidenotsafe. They will never know the unique kind of suffering that comes from grasping for strength to just open your eyes and breathe in a world that has already long given up on itself.

Cj has seen the future. He has lived and breathed and sometimes, even thrived in an era where the krang came. Where the sky was a bloody brown instead of this clear dark blue and people were driven to insanity and killed from the common cold. Where the sour smell of rot piled everywhere. No matter how much or how hard you scrubbed.

He remembers his Sensei, his Pa, wise, comforting, always ready with a witty comeback or a brilliant plan. He remembers his Commander O’Neil, his Auntie April, rousing, quick and endlessly enduring, the steady voice of reason where even Sensei’s wit dulled. But they were tired, so very tired. The burden of leadership and grief and all the aches and pains of hunger and thirst that can never be quenched, already a fully dressed tomb just waiting for them to hang up their coats and admit futility to the unsurmountable cold.

He remembers how much his family loved him. How hard they tried to scrape together any piece of warmth for him. Tired Golden-Orange heaves himself into the air, to scoop Cj into his arms. Busy Blue who takes any meagre time he has to himself and spends it with Cj. Prickly Purple finds away to colour all his armour a shade of teal, even his siblings are still decked in occasional shades of grey. Overstretched Green always ready to pull her brothers back and scold; too guilty, too smothering, too harsh. Stop. You’re hurting the kid.

If Cj doesn’t close this portal, if he keeps this open, if he disobeys-the Krang will just come back through. And they will plunge the earth into a bloody, poisoned hell.

And he knows that if not Leonardo, then someone else in their stupid, selfless, self-sacrificial family will take up the mantle of resistance, unable to stand idly by at people’s suffering. Because these people are good, so very good. The Hamatos will fight, they will try. And they will lose.

The force of their ire will break him. The thought alone makes him sob, hiccuping in a way he hasn’t done, not since he was found shrieking over a cold Uncle Tello and had to be wrenched away, kicking and screaming. But still holding on. Even to the very last second and beyond. Because he is Cassandra Jones Junjor and a Hamato in every way that matters and he could never leave family behind. At least back then he couldn’t feel mom die

But the apocalypse.. that long, slow, painful march to inevitable death, will break him too. It wasn’t always bad, they had fun, karaoke nights, hilarious attempts to make birthday cakes for kids like him. But fuck.. that doesn’t change the fact that they still lost. That they will all still loose. Cj doesn’t know if he can willingly doom them all again because that’s what he’s going to do isn’t it? They were all so tired, so hungry, so thirsty. How can he let them go through that again?

He remembers how much happier, and how much lighter they always looked in those old scarce photos.

Selfishly, Cj doesn’t know if he can survive through another 20 something years or however long they make it this time, through that hell again. Forced to slowly watch again, as the Krang chip away at his family. Chip away at the people he called his friends till everything, bright, lively and kind was carved out;Uncle Hiro I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry-

They will never love you again. A voice thunders, like the death roll of their final march just this morning where Cj was still breathing in corrupted air under rusty skies. If only he died there with them. Anything is better than having to do this.

I know. Cj shakes, trembling fingers wrap around the key. Casey can see the division between young and new, old and worn and knows he cannot let it blur and become one.

“Casey! Urgh-please!”

Anything. I will give anything, Casey weeps. Anything as long as they live. Casey squeezes his eyes shut.

And just like with Uncle Tello,

Casey finally lets go.

The portal to the prison dimension slams shut with a glorious boom.

Leo, I love you. I’m sorry.

I wish I got more time to know you.

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They scream at him. It’s Muffled, like the sensation of sound in the aftermath of a live grenade. They hurl all manner of abuse and venom at his face. He thinks he might be crying. Or maybe he’s not. His head feels tangled like the heaps of crusty old wires, Uncle Tello will never get the chance to unravel.

The shattered body of their Leonardo lies between them, like territory lines drawn between begrudging survivor groups. Cradled by a shaking soft shell. The blurry shapes of familiar voices once desperately calm and patient now roar,cutting and rightfully angry. It falls on his ears. He tries to grasp it, he does. He’s ruined everything, the least Cj can do now is listen.

But exhaustion gnaws at his very bones. Head pounding.

Nothing can explain this.

Nothing will justify this.

Severe head trauma, and shattered, collapsed carapace. Possible bruised and punctured lungs via pieces of loose carapace as the overall structure caved in, resulting in internal bleeding in the lungs and eventual asphyxiation. Patient chocked on his own blood. The field medic immediately drones internally, years of experience and training unable to be shut off (or rather, trained to never shut off) as listless eyes drift down to meet the unmoving slider.

It seems the one-sided eye contact is what finally breaks the softshell’s stupor. “Don’t you fucking dare.” The teen snarls, teeth flashing in all the ways he used to bare it at unwelcome visitors. But never at Casey. Never for long.

Wake up Jones. This is not your Uncle.

The rest of the group falls silent, shocked to see their previously silent family member speaking.

“You don’t get to look at him.” Achingly gentle, the purple branded softshell sets Leonardo onto the tiled floor.

Donatello stands. “You.” He hisses, pointing at Cj.

“You did this.”

Somewhere, somehow Cj manages to gather enough of himself to incline his head slightly in agreement. It’s the least he can do for them.

“Leave.” Donatello orders.

And like the good soldier he is, Cj does. Disappearing into the tunnels.

No one stops him.

<Part 1 | Next>

Growing pains:

Tis the aftermath of the incident | Next >

I love this comic 🥲

first panel:

Thraka: Guess we have an even better reason to celebrate now!

Lio: Guess so.

second panel:

[later…]

third panel:

Gueira: …Why do they have a bed here?

Lio: I know it’s only been, like, a day, but I’m surprised we haven’t heard about any incidents about the Burnish.

fourth panel:

Gueira: Well, I mean, isn’t that a good thing?

More doodles!

UNLEASHE DOCTOR DELICATE TOUCH JR!!!!! THERE MUST BE ONLY CHAOS!!!!

PATIENCE FRIEND IN DUE TIME DOCTOR DECLICATE TOUCH JR AKA HEALER JONES SHALL WALK AMONG USS AND IT WILL BE GLORIOUSSSSssss

This is important. My mother suffered a stroke and Thank God she was ok

Life’s been pretty busy so behold Ma bois XD

In a rare traditional art 😂

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Hey there 🌍💙 I hope you're doing well. Today, I’m reaching out with a heartfelt request. My family is going through an incredibly difficult time, and I need your help to make our story heard. 🔄 A simple reblog of my pinned post can spread awareness. 💖 A small $5 donation could bring hope where it’s desperately needed. @nasergz Even the smallest act of kindness can create ripples of change. Your support means the world—thank you for standing with us! 🙏✨

Not sure If this is legit but reblogging just in case