Better than You

Sitting in a circle, trying to meditate, were five mutants. Two of them were thinking about exactly the same thing.
“And more importantly... I’m better than you.”
“Hahaha! Oh you know something big brother? I have to disagree with you on that one.”
Strange. I thought that my head was the clearest in a long time.
So damn smug.
And everything was sharp, precise, I felt every raindrop on my head and shoulders.
He didn’t know what he was talking about.
I could have sworn to anything that what I was saying was true.
Got it a little wrong in the head.
It was a natural conclusion, I remember thinking that. I felt I was right.
He can’t expect me to believe that, to follow his way like a dog!
At the time, I truly believed I was better than him.
Must’ve gone a little mad in that jungle of his...
I don’t think I thought about us that way ever before or ever since. It must have been a different state of mind I was in back then.
He knows it’s crap, right? I want him to realise that...
I can’t take it back. I must stand behind it.
He just doesn’t realise what he’s talking about!
I hope a fight like that never occurs again... Though it was him who gave me another pair of katanas afterwards...
I need to talk to him.
I have to find out what he thinks.
They both stayed in the room used for meditation, pretending they were reading a book or checking the incense.
“We gotta talk.” “We need to talk.”
They looked at each other questioningly, and then grinned.
That’s a good start.
Oh, mighty wants to talk.
“I know I’ve been gone for a long time. A lot of things must have changed.”
“That’s right.”
“But some things must have stayed the same.”
“Like...?”
“Like the fact that I am the leader of this family.”
“Oh yea? What makes you think that?”
“Everyone, apart from you. Raph, I need to you follow me. I can’t get a team working without that.”
“Don’t expect me to bow to your every order from now on.”
“I don’t. I only expect the basic subordination.”
“And why?”
“Why?... Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I’m serious. Tell me Fearless. Why should you expect subordination of me, why not, I dunno, the other way around?”
“Because it was me who was chosen, and me who’s lead this family so far. And mind you, after all those years, none of us is dead yet. That makes a pretty important argument.”
“I’m not asking what’s happened so far. I’m asking what about now.”
“How exactly do you mean that?”
“Look at yourself. And look at me. Which one of us should bow to the other?”
“I've never said either of us has to bow –”
“Exactly!”
“...What?”
“Bowing, obeying orders, being subordinate – it’s all the same! It’s not calling my own shots! It’s meddling with a life that isn’t yours.”
“I’m not meddling with your life!”
“Telling me when to go, when to stay, where to go and what to do – I call that meddling!”
“But I’m not trying to get into your personal life! When you have free time, set your room afire for all I care, just don’t get yourself hurt and don’t get anyone else hurt.”
“Oh now you don’t care. Didn’t see the sign stop you last night.”
“You were screaming. Of course I went to see what was wrong.”
“And you didn’t notice what’s written on the door. ‘That goes especially for you, Leo!’, twice underlined.”
“I can’t let such a childish warning get in the way when I think you need help.”
“Who said I needed help!”
“For shell’s sake Raphael! I woke up in the dead of the night, and I heard screaming. Don’t say you wouldn’t run in there regardless if there was a sign or a dragon guarding the door.”
“No one ever said you were allowed to come in.”
“It was my duty, and my responsibility! Give me one good reason why I should stay out the door and listen to you screaming!”
“For instant that I can take care of myself!”
“Even so, I have to take care of the whole family!”
“I said I can take care of myself!”
Having taken battle stances, they suddenly realised they didn’t want to solve this by fighting. Their recent brawl was still stinging accurate in their minds. They backed up simultaneously.
“Give me one good reason... why I should stop giving you orders.”
“You have no right to be dominant. You ain’t better than me.”
Silence.
Take that! Now let’s see how you defend yourself.
How should I explain it to him? Maybe just showing him would do the job...
“Is that a challenge?”
“A challenge?... Heh, hell yeah. I challenge you Leo. Prove your birthright to boss me around.”
Those days saw the peak of their years long rivalry, even though it manifested in a way that was slightly different from all the other times. Without words, they reached a mutual agreement that, for now, they had fought enough. Now was the time to prove their point by neither words nor weapons, but by showing what they were worth.
Contests of every kind took place. The first ones concerned everyday chores, because they were the nearest opportunity to measure their forces against each other.
Who eats the fastest? Who eats the slowest? All it took was a little rush or a little hesitation from one side, and it resulted into a merciless match that neither was willing to lose.
Who gets the shower first? Who lasts longer under the stream? Who takes it colder? Who takes it hotter? Who makes less sounds when master Splinter treats the blisters?
Sometimes, the challenges turned dangerous, but despite being opponents, they looked out for each other all the time. Willing to cause anything to themselves, they grew nervous when the other one was pushing himself. Only their stubbornness drove them through the most difficult tasks. Stopping would mean quitting.
Who can throws shurikens faster and more accurate? And if hitting a target is easy, who can deliberately not hit the target? Who can steal Mikey’s cherished remote controlled helicopter? Who can do better tricks with it? Who can not hit it? Who can convince Mikey that the other one was to blame for cutting it in half, if one manoeuvred it so that it was hit, and the other threw the star?
The attention they received at first was unwanted, but ignorable. They understood why they attracted it, and waved it off as unimportant, completely focused on one another.
As their challenges drew out and they depleted most of the topics they could think of, it became clear that they had been a little bit futile. How does nearly drowning white attempting to stay underwater longer than your brother, serve proving that you are better than him?
They had already made it clear that they both possessed iron will. They had proved that they were capable of anything if they truly stood behind it. They had testified that neither of them was going to give up, and that if it went on this way, they would be stuck in this contest (which they were honestly beginning to find silly) for the rest of their lives.
Neither of them noticed when the focus of their challenges shifted from skills to people.
Who gets to sit next to Mikey? Who gets to sit next to Donnie? Who can take Don’s techno blabbering longer? Who can pretend that he understood it better? Who can get his attention?
Who can get their attention?
It seemed like they were finally testing the centre of their lives. They found the challenges connected to the family endearing, fun and inexhaustible. Like the only way they could show their true worth was as a part of a team.
“Raph?”
“What?”
“I need to ask something.”
“...Go on.”
“Can one of us refuse to take part in a challenge?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I have one but...”
“Heh, I can take on anything you can.”
“I just think that this one is... kind of below the belt.”
“I can take on anything there.”
“What? Oh, no, not in that way, jeez!”
“Hah! Hey, I haven’t challenged you to stop being a prude, have I?”
“That’s... save it for another time! I have to ask you this...”
“Fire away.”
“What if I challenged you to take up my post?”
“As in... being the leader?”
“Exactly.”
“Well... it’s not like I haven’t thought of that before...”
“So... you don’t think it’s unfair?”
“Unfair? Shell no. I’ve said it a lot of times, and I’ll say it again...”
“You can take on anything I can.”
“And just so that we’re equal, how ’bout you try my post for once?”
“Post of the hothead? Hah. Raph, that isn’t a post, that’s a temperament. I can’t really pretend to be someone else.”
“Can’t you do it?”
So, he played his trump card and now he wants to back away? This is gonna be interesting...
What a double-edge...
“Of course I can. Doing whatever I please and thinking about no one but myself? Doesn’t sound so hard.”
“Oh, so you think that of my role? What about yours? Bossing everyone around while trying to convince them it’s for their own good? Might even be fun!”
“...Tch. Before the challenge is on Raph, we must get one thing straight. This does not apply on battlefield.”
“And why not? The challenges that involved fighting were the best ones!”
“They never concerned teamwork. I won’t let my brothers become endangered because I want to settle something down with you.”
“Why do you think that me being the leader will automatically endanger Mikey and Don?”
“Because I know you.”
“You know me!”
“Should I repeat myself?”
“You’re impatient, and hot-tempered, and more importantly...”
“...You ain’t better than me.”
“Let me rephrase that. I am a better leader than you.”
“And that gives you the right to boss me around?”
“Yes, it does.”
They stared at each other, and this time they knew, as shady as the statement on the roof a couple of weeks ago had been, these words were true. And there was no sense in trying to prove otherwise.
“Fine! This leader business apart!”
That’s not the problem anymore!
Huh? Did he actually... Yes! He admitted it! That means this tiring, time-eating string of challenges is over!
“Get to the point, you aren’t better than me. You’re different, I give you that, but you ain’t better.”
“We already got to the point. When I said I was better than you, I meant I was a better leader than you. That’s it, end of the story. If you can’t understand that right now, take a step back and think about it. You’ll see that this long era of proving ourselves is now history.”
“It isn’t over yet, Splinter Junior. It’s not just about ordering me around, and if it was, then not anymore.”
“...What?”
“You heard me. It ain’t no longer about just you and me, it’s about our family too. And namely Mike and Don. They can decide which one of us is better.”
“I said that I didn’t mean better as –”
“I know, you keep repeating it over and over!”
“That might be because you don’t seem to grasp it! Listen to me Raph, I never questioned your nature. I’ve said that with you being who you are, people like me always have to watch over you. I’ve said that you lack qualities of a self-sufficient person –”
“Leo...!”
“...who doesn’t get himself killed one day because he leaped headfirst into a situation that was way over his head! I’ve challenged your ability to lead the clan or yourself, but I never challenged who you are! You don’t need Mikey or Don or anyone to testify that!”
Silence fell, as if too much had been said.
“Even if you didn’t mean it that way... I thought you did. It made me think.”
“...And?”
But the words wouldn’t come...
“...A lot has changed while I was gone, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it has.”

Better than You Suckah

I’ll keep breaking you
and I’ll keep fixing you
‘cause that’s who we are

Staring at the text, his intuition saying “This is deep” but his tired mind blank and stubbornly refusing to take in what was written there, Leonardo hopelessly fumbled for a sensible comment. He glanced at Raphael, meeting his eyes. He cleared his throat and distracted him: “Read mine.”
Raphael opened the scroll and held it out in front of him, displaying the calligraphy-like letters. Leonardo’s poem read:

Bow your head to me
For I am the one
Chosen
Blessed
Loved
Bow to me
And watch
As I bare my throat to you

Impressed by the meaning they both sensed but unable to react to it, Raphael and Leonardo never spoke of this challenge again.
That however didn’t prevent them from stealthily fingering each other’s poems, hiding them under their bed (or hammock) and using them as stimulant during cold nights when, for whatever reason, none of their brothers were up to sharing beds.
Master Splinter prepared lunch, because his sons appeared busy. He could hear the thumping from the bathroom, and he could hear reciting of suggestive verses. He refused to pay it any mind, clinging to his only long-term defence strategy. He wasn’t going to let his dear sons’ libido ruin his senescence. Pushing a small bottle of Vaseline, part of Donatello’s net system of lubricants, further into the cupboard, Splinter worked silently as a father of his beloved twisted little family. What choice did he have?
Michelangelo and Donatello came out of the bathroom, flushed and languid. Sprawling out at the kitchen table, they asked in a soft tone when lunch would be ready.
...Splinter wasn’t going to ask anything.
Leonardo and Raphael entered the kitchen together, taking their seats and asking when lunch would be ready.
...Splinter kept silent. He served, smiling when Leo announced loudly: “Itadakimasu.”
“Itadakimasu,” Splinter’s family repeated obediently.
Raphael and Leonardo exchanged provocative looks and the under table kicking activity increased tenfold. Donatello suddenly perked up, looked around uneasily, and lowered his head again, stiffling a gasp.
“Master Splinter, I’ve just remembered that something needs to be done...” he said quickly, getting up. “An auction I’ve been watching is drawing to an end. It’s an important item, so...” he smiled apologetically and left in haste.
...Splinter didn’t inquire.
Leonardo felt a bit sorry for his genius brother. He was vulnerable to Raph’s wicked attacks, as he possessed the most sensitive body of the four of them. And it was improper to stimulate him by his foot in front of master Splinter! Leonardo made his thoughts clear by glaring at Raphael angrily for the rest of lunchtime, something his brother much enjoyed returning. This round of staring contest was ended by Michelangelo, who swiftly yanked their masks to the side and told them, “Let’s go watch TV!”
The family gathered for midday break. Master Splinter claimed the remote and switched to soap operas, while the turtles garnished the sofa and one after another fell asleep. After an hour and still no sign of waking, Splinter quietly made his way to his room and engaged in practising katas.

At 5 o’clock in the afternoon, everything usually moves.
Turtles spar, work, and prank each other, they drink, laugh, and have a good time before darkness falls and they go out to the surface.
None of the brothers was awake now, as they lay on the couch motionless, interlaced in interesting positions.
Then Raphael woke up, disturbing Leonardo by raising his head from Leo’s lap. Their eyes met and Raphael grinned.
“Bet you can’t jack Mike off without waking him up,” he whispered coarsely. Yes, he was horny - because being horny is the first thing after waking that comes to his mind.
Leonardo was usually alert immediately after being roused, but this took its time sinking in. “Bet you I can,” he said, wiping the dumbfounded expression off his face. “But can you jack Don off without waking him up?”
“No problem,” Raphael jeered.
Moving around was tricky, especially for the hothead, because turtle bodies were covering the whole couch and his legs were entwined with Donatello’s. While he was carefully pulling his limbs from under his slumbering brother, Leonardo got up effortlessly and began circling the sofa.
“Ready? One, two, three, go,” Leonardo whispered, triggering action.
While the leader opted for straight approach, planting little kisses on Michelangelo’s snout while stroking the bottom of his plastron, Raphael had to counter his temper, stay back and stimulate Donatello indirectly. He lay his hand on top of Don’s shell and stroked it in small circles. As he moved to his shoulder, Donatello’s brow twitched. Raph stopped moving and waited until Don relaxed again. Then he resumed his ministrations, getting Donatello used to being touched.
Leonardo was having a difficult time deciding. If he kept his efforts up, Michelangelo would become erect and it would be hard to ease him out of his plastron without rousing him. On the other hand if he moved him too early, it would be too much a shock. Oh decisions, decisions...
Raphael was startled when Donatello moved. He stiffened, praying that the brainiac didn’t open his eyes. Donatello was indeed coming to consciousness, and realising that he was rather uncomfortable in his hunched position. He groaned quietly, shifted and fell asleep again.
Raphael stared at the work of art. What had previously been a difficult to access curl was now splayed decadently in front of him. Donatello had even pulled his legs apart. Raphael sent a victorious look to Leo and made use of this present. It wasn’t long until his turtle unleashed his first asleep churr.
Leonardo was painfully positive that Michelangelo was awake when Mikey’s hand touched his. A wave of disappointment washed over him, and he let it get the better of him for a second, trying to prepare his ego for losing. However, as he raised his head to tell Raph he was done, he noticed that Michelangelo’s eyes were still closed and his face slack. He drew his hand away, gazing breathlessly at what was happening.
Michelangelo was actually trying to free his erect member in his sleep. Leonardo couldn’t believe it – all his brooding was being decided by Michelangelo’s hand. He watched it intently, mentally begging it to be gentle. Mikey’s fingers found his cock without erring, and eased it out. Michelangelo sighed loudly. Raphael looked up.
And then everything crashed down. Mikey tried to roll to his side – but he fell off the backrest right on top of Raphael, who involuntarily crushed Donatello beneath him. Don called out in surprise, Mikey yelped, Leonardo jumped back and Raphael cursed. Michelangelo didn’t stop in his fall, sliding from Raph’s shell but clawing for support out of instinct; this dragged Raphael onto him and they both fell on the floor.
“What the shell Leo!” Raphael yelled crossly.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Leonardo answered, quickly coming to help his disoriented brothers. “Mikey rolled in his sleep, I couldn’t stop him.”
“What’s going on?” Donatello asked. “Why do I... oh.”
He was going to say “Why do I have an erection?” but he understood the answer before he finished the sentence. “You two...” he mumbled unbelievingly, rubbing his face. “And you call me nympho.”
“Dudes,” Michelangelo moaned, “I’m totally confused here. What happened? I thought we were getting it on, I was just gonna slip into Raphie...”
“You ain’t slipping into anyone,” Raphael clarified, throwing Mikey off and calling: “Leo, get your turtle, I change the challenge to who gets’ ‘em off faster!”
“On it!”
“Wh... gha!” Tears sprang to Donatello’s eyes as his cock was pried out and immediately engulfed in Raphael’s mouth. Don cried out helplessly and bit his lip, desperately trying to keep his voice down.
Leonardo leaped to Mikey so gracefully that he resembled a green panther. He shoved his tongue down Mikey’s throat and his hands worked miracles. Michelangelo’s eyes rolled back in his head.
After half a minute of general brain overdrive, the competing turtles received a draw. Surely this wasn’t on Donatello’s nor Michelangelo’s mind when they came, but their brothers unknowingly prolonged their sweet torture by looking up to check if they were winning. Nothing was more frustrating than seeing the same pair of eyes stare back.
“God...” Donatello gasped afterwards, “I think I’m starting to like this.”
“Do more of these,” Michelangelo added, wrapping his arms possessively around Leonardo.
“I have nothing against,” Leo murmured, nuzzling the crook of Michelangelo’s neck in a seductive manner.
“Not now,” Mikey chuckled tiredly, “I’m still seeing stars from the last one. And I don’t think I’ve got enough cum inside me to come again anyway.”
“Grow balls, bonehead,” Raphael grumbled.
“We should get up,” Leonardo said, suddenly quite self-aware. And Splinter-aware.
“Aww, already?” Mikey said sadly. “Come on, don’t break my afterglow. I wanna cuddle.”
“We can’t cuddle on the floor,” Leonardo objected.
“Sure we can,” Michelangelo told him, proving his point by tightening his hug.
“But we’ll be sore.”
“I don’t care.”
“It’ll look weird when master Splinter finds us.”
Michelangelo grimaced. “Did you have to bring dad up?”
“I want to get off the floor,” Leonardo shrugged.
“Okay, but you have to carry me to bed. Bridal style!”
“I -... ugh. Alright.”
“Y-yay!” Michelangelo chuckled as he was lifted up in the air. “Hey Raph, get Donnie! Sure he doesn’t want to lie there with someone so ugly on top of him!”
“That really isn’t... whoa!” Donatello flung his arms around Raphael’s neck to steady himself. “That isn’t necessary, honestly! Put me down Raph.”
“Anything Fearless can take on, I can take on too,” Raphael grunted, carrying Donatello to his room.
“Oh no Raphie, take Don to my place!” Michelangelo called out. “I want all three of you tonight!”
“Mikey,” Donatello rolled his eyes, “first, you’ve just come and you’ve said yourself that you don’t feel up to another round. Second, it’s um... five in the afternoon, so there’s plenty of time until night, including evening training and dinner. Third, the four of us won’t fit into your bed, and I’m not even sure if the props can hold that much weight. The last time I checked, they were pretty woodworn...”
While Donatello was taking his time listing reasons why entering Michelangelo’s room wasn’t a good idea, the procession arrived at its destination and he was more or less thrown up to Mikey’s bed. Yelping, he scrambled to the wall and did his version of glaring.
“What was I saying?” he asked.
Leonardo threw Michelangelo up as well, making his brother squeal happily, and Raphael smirked. “I don’t know, it sounded like ‘blah blah’, but I might be wrong too,” he said, leaping upon the top bunk. “Come on Leo,” he called smugly, knowing well that the bed was already crowded.
“Watch it, you’re sitting on my foot. Ow!” complained Michelangelo, hitting Raph’s shell.
Leonardo looked up, thinking. Before Raphael could tease him for taking so long, he exhibited what he’d learnt in the jungle – a spring so elegant that one would never think to connect it with a mutant turtle. The sheer beauty of how he moved to the bunk left his brothers gaping.
“What was that?” Donatello breathed in admiration.
“What?” Leonardo looked around nonchalantly. “That jump? You learn that the first week in the jungle,” he waved his hand and smiled in the way that said “Here sits the alpha male”.
Raphael was genuinely distressed, because he couldn’t compete with such grace. Instead he chose to divert attention. “So what else did ya learn, jungle boy?” he asked, tilting his head and shifting so that Michelangelo’s foot was no longer harmed.
“Lots of things,” Leonardo said, leaning forward.
And he revealed the darkest secrets of the jungle, which left Raphael with the impressions of awe, despair and anger, a standard when it came to Leonardo’s furtive bragging. Raphael stroke back with his up-to-date data on gang activity in the city, succeeding in steering the conversation to the topic of New York. Captured by this once again relevant topic, the four brothers were so engrossed in the discussion, that master Splinter had to call twice to pierce their excited bubble.
The rat had finished his katas, listened briefly to his sons (after he deemed the topic safe to listen to), and seeing this as an important opportunity to let the youngsters bond and come to terms with Leonardo’s long absence, he had cooked the dinner. Naturally he would later make sure that they all took proper turns again, especially in washing up.
“My sons, it is time to eat,” his amiable voice soared through Michelangelo’s room, and the brothers quickly jumped down from the bed (Leonardo didn’t forget to demonstrate another graceful figure, but this was lost in the need for supper the others felt) and ran to the kitchen.
“Smells great master Splinter! I hope you made a lot of it, ‘cause I’m so hungry I could eat a whole Raph!” Michelangelo complimented his sensei’s cooking.
“Are you saying I’m fat?” Raphael bristled up.
“No, I’m just saying you’re edible.” Michelangelo leaned to Raphael and purred in his face: “Veeery edible,” he said, licking his lips. Raphael blushed slightly, his eyeridges twitching.
“Get offa me, goofball,” he shoved him away, checking if master Splinter was offended. His father was luckily fully focused on showing Leonardo what ingredients he had used. “Oh come on,” Raphael said, strolling over to the kitchen counter. “It’s not like you’re gonna cook it. Are ya?” he added suspiciously, recalling all the times Leo had tried cooking, before he owned up that he was naturally inept at it.
“I had to learn how to take care of myself in the jungle,” Leonardo shrugged, “including cooking. I could manage this,” he said self-confidently.
“Reeeally?” Raphael grinned.
“Of course,” Leonardo nodded. “If you give me the recipe master Splinter, I can cook this tomorrow.”
“As you wish my son,” Splinter answered, taking the pot from the gas burner, “but now come and eat.”
“Yes sensei,” Leonardo said automatically, going to his chair. He glanced at Raphael. “What about you? Have you learnt anything about cooking while I was away?”
Raphael had been doing other things than cooking, namely sleeping during the day, watching the streets in his fancy suit during the night, and occasionally screwing his brothers in the early morning hours if he wasn’t too tired. (No wonder that Donatello was so venomous at him just before Leo came back. It was mostly him who got assaulted in the morning, making him cherish sleep in these hours as a gold treasure.) But Raphael sure as shell wasn’t going to step back from a challenge. Leo couldn’t have learnt that much anyway. Sixteen years of burnt and overcooked food would never disappear. Raphael couldn’t lose this fight.
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll show you the day after tomorrow, if we ain’t sick from your cooking,” he didn’t forget to add. Leonardo nodded curtly.
“It looks delicious sensei,” Donatello commented, receiving a soup bowl of goulash. “Does anyone want bread?” he asked, getting up.
“I’ll get it,” Leonardo said quickly, beckoning Donatello to sit down.
“No, I’ll get it,” Raphael bolted to the breadbox.
“I was here first.”
“No, you weren’t!”
“Raphael!”
“Leonardo!”
The remaining family members watched the duo amusedly. It wasn’t often that they competed for something to help somebody. Master Splinter sighed and shook his head, deciding to ignore them, but Michelangelo and Donatello gazed at them, the first with an impatient, the latter with a soft look in his eyes.
“Hey, what about that bread?” Michelangelo called. This served to multiply the efforts to snatch it before the rival could, though they failed to drown out Donatello’s remark:
“I love it when they get like this.” That drew Raphael’s and Leonardo’s attention. The turtles turned to Donatello who, sensing an opportunity, continued. “I mean, they compete every day, but it’s rare that it’s something for all of us. It’s... nice,” he said, smiling a smile that he knew was addictive.
A bright light shone in the minds of those, who considered getting bread the goal of their lives. A single smile was enough to make them see.
Their epic revelation basically consisted of this:
I, Leonardo, have spent last three weeks constantly challenging my brother, Raphael, to demonstrate that I was his competent leader. We haven’t reached any conclusion, however. Thus, I concur that these efforts were thoroughly useless. I will therefore prove my worth against him by benefitting my brothers as much as I can, showing that I, as the leader, am a crucial element of this team, which cannot be in any way replaced or surpassed.
I, Raphael... fuck this crap, I’m hungry!
And so, Leonardo honoured the proverb “discretion is the better part of valour”, stepping back and letting Raph retrieve the bread for the sake of the cooling goulash. Raphael, understanding what the sudden smugness meant, but favouring the opinion that getting the bread was even more meritorious than allowing to get it, carried the accompaniment to the table. He set it down, his expression of a person who tries to pretend he doesn’t expect gratitude.
“Thank you,” Donatello said, reaching for a slice.
It was decided. There would be not one more mine’s-bigger-than-yours challenge.

Vyčerpávající. Zpátky na fanfikce.