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heliosunny · 3 months ago

Note

Hello! Wondering if you can do a fic with Anaxa? Maybe how he uses his gun to scare off other people from Reader?

Yandere!Anaxa x Reader

The scent of musk, sweat, and perfume clung to the air. Somewhere, silk rustled against bare skin, a stifled giggle was followed by a drawn-out moan. You sat stiffly on the cushioned floor, hands bound loosely in front of you.

Everything had gone black since that night.

The night your palace burned.

You’d watched the throne crumble, the flags torn down, the screams of your people. And then something—someone—had struck you down. The flash was so bright, you swore the stars themselves had bled into your retinas. Now all you saw was a sea of endless dark.

“Do you like the sounds?” a teasing voice asked. The man’s footsteps creaked closer. “Such a waste for someone like you to be blind... Can’t even see what you’re missing.”

That voice belonged to him—Kallius. He had taken you after the siege, claimed you like one might claim a broken heirloom, only to toss it onto the shelf for entertainment. At night, he brought women into the room and made a show of his indulgence, whispering cruel things to test your limits.

You flinched as the moans grew louder, fake and over-exaggerated, designed to pierce your ears like knives. One woman laughed as Kallius pressed her against the wall with a thud.

“This is what pleasure sounds like. Do you remember what that is?” he mocked.

“Why are you doing this…?”

“Oh? Still talking?” he chuckled. “Guess I’ll have to turn up the volume.”

There was another groan, sharper, more dramatic. You winced. You wanted to cry—but even your tears had dried up by now.

Then… the door burst open.

The moan cut off into a gurgled scream.

A warm spray misted your cheek.

You didn’t need your sight to know something was very, very wrong.

The woman had fallen silent. The other girls gasped, scrambling backward. You heard a soft metallic clink… the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.

“…Big brother” Kallius muttered. There was a hint of amusement, but also fear. “You’re no fun.”

Anaxa stood in the doorway, the scent of smoke clinging to his coat.

“Too loud” Anaxa said flatly, stepping inside. “And you touched what's mine.”

You blinked, feeling something warm drip down your cheek. You reached up hesitantly—and felt it.

Blood.

You couldn’t even scream.

Anaxa knelt beside you, his hand brushing your ear gently. “Cover these,” he whispered, “You don’t need to hear what comes next.”

He stood again,“Out. Now. Before I forget to be merciful.”

There was a scramble of footsteps—heels on tile, fabric dragging. A whimper. Then silence again, broken only by Kallius’ low chuckle.

“You’re obsessed..”

“You’re still breathing. Be grateful.”

And then… his arms scooped you up, pulling you close to a chest you recognized even without your vision.

“You don’t belong in filth like that.”

You didn't reply. You didn’t even know how to. But you let yourself be carried, your face still warm with blood, your heart pounding against cracked ribs.

You didn’t know how to feel. You sat motionless in the chair by the fireplace, the blood still crusted on your cheek, a ghost of the earlier violence.

When he carried you into his chambers, Anaxa said nothing for a long time. He simply set you down on soft sheets and crouched in front of you. You could feel his eyes scanning every inch of your skin, his hands surprisingly gentle, checking your wrists, your arms, your face.

“…No bruises” he murmured. “Good.”

He didn’t speak after that. Just the quiet shuffle of him standing and walking away.

You heard the door close behind him with a metallic click. Locked—from the outside.

You exhaled, not realizing you'd been holding your breath.

Time passed strangely.

Minutes. Hours. Maybe longer.

Eventually, footsteps approached. The door opened, and cautious voices whispered to one another.

Servants. Two of them, women by their tones, helping you out of the stiff, bloodied clothes and into clean, silken ones. Warm water ran over your hands as they wiped your skin delicately.

They didn’t explain anything. Maybe they were too afraid.

You wanted to ask about your eyes, about a healer—anything. But all that came out was a hoarse, “Can I stay inside?”

“…His Highness says the fresh air will help.”

Later, as the sun—or what you assumed was the sun—shifted behind thick curtains, the door opened again.

You knew it was him. Even without seeing, you felt him.

That scent—faint gunpowder.

“Come” Anaxa said.

You stayed sitting on the bed, unsure, hugging your knees. “I’m fine here…”

“No, you’re not.”

He was closer now, and you didn’t even hear him move.

“You need to remember the world hasn’t ended. You’re still breathing. I made sure of that.”

You didn’t answer.

“I’ll hold your hand. I won’t let you fall.”

You hesitated. But your fingers still reached out, searching… and found his.

You let him guide you.

-------

Later that evening, you heard new footsteps

“The doctor you requested.”

Anaxa didn’t speak at first. He merely shifted beside you on the couch.

“Your Highness. With permission?”

Anaxa gave a quiet grunt, then turned to you. “He’s here to help. Let him.”

The doctor’s hands were cold. He checked your eyes, held lights near them—though you couldn’t tell how bright.

“Your eyes are healing, but slowly. The shock trauma caused temporary cortical blindness. It’s not permanent, but… you’ll need care. Rest, above all.”

Night crept in.

You curled beneath heavy blankets in the oversized bed, your thoughts swimming. Was this safety? Or just another cage?

The house was silent—until it wasn’t.

A soft creak.

Then another.

You shifted slightly, “Anaxa…?”

No response.

Suddenly, a rough hand clamped over your mouth.

You thrashed instinctively, but the body pressed against yours was larger, heavier.

“Shhh…”

Kallius.

“I missed that little shiver,” he said, pinning you to the bed, his breath hot and sour against your skin. “You really are a fine little plaything. No wonder Anaxa’s been hiding you like some precious gem.”

You couldn’t move—your limbs locked in panic.

“Let’s see how loyal he is,” Kallius murmured, dragging his fingers slowly down your arm. “Maybe he’ll still want you once I’ve had my fun. Or maybe he’ll finally toss you aside like broken glass.”

He shifted closer, the weight of his body pressing into you.

Your teeth clamped down on his hand.

“Ah—!!”

He yanked back with a growl.

You didn’t wait—you bolted. Your knees hit the cold floor. You didn’t care. You ran blindly through the halls.

“Y/N?”

You slammed into him chest-first, trembling.

He caught you instantly.

“What happened?”

Before you could even form the words, Kallius’s voice echoed down the hall.

“They bit me. Can you believe that?”

Anaxa didn’t reply. Not with words.

You felt the way his body stilled.

And then you heard it—the click of the safety coming off his gun.

“Woah, woah—easy, big bro-”

Kallius raised his hands in mock surrender, limping into view with a forced grin. “No need to point that thing at me. I was just teasing.”

Anaxa didn’t lower the gun.

He aimed directly at his brother’s thigh—and fired.

Kallius collapsed with a grunt of pain, hand clutching his bleeding leg as he cursed under his breath.

“I warned you” Anaxa muttered, already turning away with you still in his arms.

The next few days passed in an odd hush.

Kallius was nowhere to be heard.

In the meantime, servants tended to you more gently now.

But Anaxa was gone.

The quiet he left behind wasn’t comforting.

You still couldn’t see.

But your other senses sharpened. The scent of old books in the library. The breeze through the courtyard. The way sunlight warmed your face. You began taking walks with someone guiding you, or on your own when you were brave enough.

That’s where he found you—by the tall hedges in the east garden, tracing your fingers along rough bark and damp petals.

“I see you haven’t lost your curiosity”

You turned toward the sound. “You’re back.”

“Did you miss me?” he asked playfully.

You didn’t answer.

He didn’t mind.

“When I was younger. I was being pushed around by older kids in the village.”

You tilted your head slightly, unsure where this was going.

“There was a tree,” he continued, “with a single apple left. I couldn’t reach it. But someone else did. Not afraid of dirt or climbing. They picked it, dropped it down, and we split it right there under the branches like we were friends.”

You stood still.

“I always remembered that day,” he added, “because it was the first time someone didn’t look at me like I was nothing.”

He took a step closer. His fingers brushed your wrist.

“Come on. You’re tired,” he murmured. “Let’s get you back.”

The halls felt less threatening now, though you still didn’t know what to make of the man at your side—gentle and monstrous, savior and tormentor. He was all of it, layered and unreadable.

Late into the night, after servants had gone and silence had settled, you spoke:

“Anaxa.”

He stirred from where he stood near the balcony, the scent of fresh air clinging to him. “Hmm?”

“I want to know what you look like.”

That made him pause.

“I can’t see,” you continued, “but maybe I could… get an idea.”

You reached your hand out hesitantly.

He didn’t move at first.

Then, without a word, he stepped closer—close enough that his presence warmed your skin. You lifted your fingers carefully and brushed them across his jaw. You moved upward, tracing the curve of his cheekbone, the bridge of his nose—sharp, symmetrical. His lips were still.

And then your fingertips ghosted over something foreign.

An eyepatch.

You paused.

“...Is something wrong with your eye?” you whispered.

He flinched slightly under your touch, but didn’t pull away.

“It’s just… a memorable moment”

You could feel the unspoken weight in those words.

You lowered your hand slowly, heart aching with a strange mix of fear and fascination.

Anaxa didn’t speak again. He simply helped you lie down, adjusting the blanket, making sure you were warm.

And as his footsteps faded into the next room, your thoughts drifted somewhere darker.

Because no matter how gently he touched you…

No matter how many times he said you’re safe…

You remembered who he was.

You remembered the screams. The flames. The night everything ended.

He had stood there.

He hadn’t just found you in the ruins. He had helped create them.

He killed your family.

The moment you were stronger—when your legs could carry you, and your eyes opened again—you’d leave.

No matter what it cost.

That morning, a guard approached with a message:

“His Highness summons you to the east tower.”

Anaxa never sent for you through anyone else.

But the guard bore his seal.

So you followed.

You climbed the winding steps slowly, fingers brushing the cold stone walls. The wind bit sharper the higher you went, and by the time you reached the terrace, something already felt… off.

“Kallius?” you whispered, recognizing the scent—too sweet, like wine overripe.

He was waiting by the railing.

“My brother’s little pet… You just never learn.”

The world dropped beneath you.

You didn’t even have time to scream.

CRACK.

Everything went black.

When the news reached Anaxa, his silence was more terrifying than any scream.

“Where?”

“Th-the east tower. The guards—found them at the base. Alive, but unconscious.”

“Bring Kallius to the pit.”

Kallius was dragged in, his leg still limping from the bullet wound. He grinned as though it were a joke.

“Oh come on, brother, really? They tripped. Clumsy little thing—”

Anaxa shot him in the other knee.

He raised his gun again.

But before he could give the final command, the chamber doors burst open.

A woman ran in—one of Kallius’s devoted.

“Wait—please!” she cried. “He only did it because of that person! They're poisoning you, you don’t see it—”

Anaxa turned his eye on her.

“…So you want to die with him.”

“N-no, I—”

“Fine.”

He nodded once to his soldiers.

“Skin her too.”

Kallius’s screams were drowned out by hers.

-----

Back in the upper chamber, you still hadn’t woken.

Wrapped in bandages. Blood dried at your temple.

Anaxa sat by your bedside, unmoving.

He hadn’t spoken since he returned.

But his hand was wrapped tightly around yours.

It was days before your eyes finally fluttered open.

Everything was blinding at first—white bandages, the sharp sting of light. A pressure in your skull throbbed, dull and heavy, but—

You could see.

And sitting beside you, head bowed with exhaustion… was him.

When he noticed your eyes open, his single visible eye went wide.

“…Y/N”

Relief washed over his features like breaking thunder. He reached out, fingers trembling slightly, and cupped your cheek—but stopped himself before fully touching you.

“You’re back”

You tried to speak, but your throat was too dry.

All you could do was point shakily toward the pitcher of water. He understood instantly, helping you drink, then bringing you warm broth, soft bread, fresh fruit.

In the days that followed, your body mended.

You walked again. Slowly. But now, with sight returning, the world came back to you in sharp contrast—vivid, overwhelming.

And so did he.

Anaxa didn’t leave your side unless necessary. But when he did… the change was obvious.

Short-tempered. Anyone who so much as looked at you wrong was snapped at. Servants flinched when he entered the room, even if he was calm.

You pulled him aside one day after seeing a maid leave with tears in her eyes.

“Anaxa,” you said, “you can’t keep treating people like that.”

“They don’t deserve you.”

“That’s not the point.” you pushed, trying to stay calm. “People want to help. But they’re scared. And scared people don’t stay loyal forever.”

Reluctantly, he nodded.

“…I’ll try.”

That night, you bathed and dressed with the help of two familiar servants—girls who had been by your side since the accident. They were kind.

“I wanted to leave.” you whispered.

They froze behind you.

“He helped me, yes. But he also took everything from me.”

The silence stretched. Then—

Thump.

You turned just in time to see one of the girls drop to her knees, face pale.

Then the other.

Their foreheads hit the floor with sickening force.

Thump. Thump.

They began to sob.

“Please don’t go,” one of them begged, “Please—he’ll think we let you slip, he’ll—he’ll kill us—!”

The other was already bleeding from her brow, tears mixing with red as she struck her head again and again.

“We’ll die,” she wept. “We’ll die if you leave. Please, please stay—”

You stumbled forward, horrified, grabbing their wrists.

“Stop!” you shouted. “Stop, I’m not—! I won’t go now, okay? Just stop!”

The door opened behind you.

Anaxa stood in the doorway.

“What… happened here?”

You quickly turned.

“They were helping me. That’s all. Nothing’s wrong.”

He looked unconvinced, his gaze darting to the trembling servants.

You placed your hand on his chest, trying to ground him.

“I’ll handle it. Just let me.”

After a beat, he nodded once.

“Out,” you said gently to the girls. “Go. Get cleaned up.”

They scrambled to obey.

And once they were gone… the room fell quiet again.

That night, as you lay in bed, the thought clawed at you.

What happened to Kallius?

You remembered the fall, the pain, the blur of stone and blood.

And then waking up—alive.

But Kallius… you hadn’t seen or heard his name spoken since.

The next day, during a quiet moment, you asked Anaxa.

He was seated at your window, light slicing across the dark fabric of his coat, his eyepatch catching the glow.

“…What happened to your brother?”

He stilled.

At first, no reply.

Then, abruptly—his voice clipped.

“He got what he deserved.”

You waited, but that was all he gave.

Anaxa rose soon after, “Rest well” before walking out.

You didn’t sleep.

It was the next morning when you approached one of the more trusted servants—an older woman.

“I need to know,” you told her. “What happened to Kallius.”

She hesitated.

“If you promise not to leave… I’ll tell you.”

“What?”

“If you stay here,” she repeated shakily. “We’ll talk. If not… I won’t say a word.”

You didn’t understand. Not yet.

But you nodded anyway.

“…Alright.”

She looked around, then led you to the laundry halls, where voices didn’t carry. And in a hushed voice, she told you.

At first, Anaxa had simply ordered Kallius to be executed.

But something changed his mind.

Instead of death, Kallius was tied up.

Each day, one by one, his loyalists were brought before him—his guards, his lovers, his advisors. One a day.

Executed.

Some were skinned. Some beheaded. Others poisoned slowly while he watched.

They made sure he heard every scream.

He begged, cried.

But Anaxa never relented.

And when there were no followers left—

Anaxa slit his throat himself.

“He said… that was mercy.”

The horror sat low in your chest like a stone dropped in still water.

You returned to your room.

That night, you dressed for dinner.

You sat at the long table across from him.

“Good to see you up,” he said. “You’re glowing.”

You forced a smile. “Thank you.”

The meal was beautifully laid.

You lifted your goblet, your hands steady despite the churn in your gut.

But as the cool wine touched your lips, something felt… off.

Not the taste. The aftertaste.

You set the goblet down.

Across from you, Anaxa tilted his head.

“…Is something the matter?”

And that’s when your heartbeat stuttered.

The room spun.

You barely noticed your goblet slip from your hand, the wine soaking into the embroidered cloth. You gripped the table, but your fingers felt numb.

Anaxa was at your side in an instant.

“There we go,” he murmured gently, arms firm around you, lifting you up as though you weighed nothing. “You’re just tired.”

The warmth of his body pressed into yours. You were so cold.

Your legs didn’t listen to you. Your tongue felt heavy.

He guided you out of the hall, his voice low in your ear.

“Just repeat after me.”

You could barely understand his words, but your mouth moved.

Repeating something.

Over and over.

“Yes… I accept…”

“I will never leave…”

When you woke, you were back in your room—but everything was… different.

Ribbons hung from the posts of the bed. A tray of delicate sweets sat beside a floral bouquet. And your hand—

There was a ring on your finger.

The door creaked open.

Servants entered with smiles, bows, soft cheers. Someone scattered petals at your feet. They whispered congratulations. One girl held a cake shaped like a crown. Another gave you a shawl embroidered with phoenixes.

“May your union be eternal,” one whispered. “He’ll protect you forever now.”

Union?

You stood, half in a trance, as Anaxa entered last—his uniform exchanged for ceremonial robes.

“You’re awake” he said with quiet satisfaction.

“What… did you do?”

“You said yes,” he said, “You promised. And now everyone knows. You belong to this palace… and to me.”

You stared at him.

Everything fell into place.

He’d married you.

“You don’t need to run anymore,” he whispered. “You have a kingdom again. A husband. A future. All you have to do… is stay.”

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #honkai star rail anaxa #hsr anaxa #anaxagoras #anaxa x reader #anaxa #anaxa hsr

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queermccoy · 2 months ago

Note

a bucktommy smut prompt for you:

Buck getting his shit absolutely rocked by a fucking machine while Tommy watches.

this got slightly out of hand but it was a great way to get my brain in Writing Mode, thank you liv!!

cw: daddy kink, knot dildo, buck's high sex drive

Tommy was sitting on the chair in the corner of their bedroom, slouching with his legs splayed open. One hand was resting loosely on his chest, thumb idly stroking a pebbled nipple, with the other hand rubbing at the skin under his belly button. The room smelled like sex; come and lube and sweat breaking through musky deodorant. They'd been going at it for awhile. He'd come, and then come again, and wasn't planning on doing it a third time, but that didn't mean that Evan—greedy, needy Evan—had to stop.

"F-fuck," Evan whined, stretching the uh sound. It was punched out, tired and turned on. A dildo pushed into his puffy pink hole slowly, steadily, keeping an inhumanly consistent pace.

The dildo was one of their favorites, long and thick and red with a huge knot at the end roughly the size of a closed fist. It was attached to a machine, controlled by the remote Tommy had sitting on his naked thigh. It was fascinating, watching the silicone fucking in and out of Evan's pink, shaking body, bulbous knot forcing itself past the abused rim of his asshole when he pushed back against it.

The machine was new though.

It was a creative way for them to give Evan the fuck he deserved after Tommy needed to tap out. So far, it seemed to be going well.

"How are you doing over there?" Tommy asked, voice forcibly even. He shifted and moved the hand on his chest to the arm of the chair. It had a metal frame with a faux leather seat, matching Buck's design sensibilities. His fingers wrapped around the remote, thumb over the buttons.

Evan panted. He whined. He groaned and turned to look at Tommy with glassy eyes and an open mouth. There was drool on his chin and tears on his cheeks. "Good, good, good," he breathed. "S-so good, Daddy, thank you, Daddy."

Tommy laughed, delighted. "Last one?" he asked. Evan nodded, face scraping against the sheets. The dildo slid into him with a wet sound that vibrated through Tommy's bones and left Evan cross-eyed. Pushing down hard on the flat of his belly, Tommy bit back a moan. He felt his cock twitch. "Arch your back," he told Evan and thrilled when he did.

Then Tommy upped the pace on the machine. It began to piston out of Evan quicker and quicker until the sound of it almost drowned out the pathetic whimpers and loud grunts falling from Evan's mouth. His cock, red and leaking, slapped against his soft stomach. Tommy watched, transfixed, as Evan fell forward onto his forearms, face disappearing into the mattress. His body shook, legs like wiggled jello. The knot stretched him, tugging on his rim but keeping all that thick length buried in his body while it moved inside of him. On the next thrust in, Evan was coming.

He was coming untouched, crying out wetly. He sobbed and slapped his hand out, slamming it against the bed. Tommy pressed the buttons to slow the machine. He didn't want to stop to suddenly, working Evan through his orgasm. He was babbling, words that didn't sound like anything and meant less.

Tommy rose from the chair and walked over to the bed. He sank to his knees and leaned over, carding his fingers though Evan's sweat soaked hair. "How was that, honey?"

Evan laughed, huffing. He was so flushed, skin hot to the touch. Tommy carefully brought the machine to a stop. Evan pulled himself off of it with a groan. Without Evan on the end of it, it was ugly and silly looking. Metal with a fantastical dildo on the end, coated in lube and Tommy's come. Tommy looked back down at Evan and knew his eyes looked soft. He felt soft, the way he got around Evan.

"It was so good, oh—oh my god," Evan said. With an exhausted sounding sigh, he turned over onto his back. His still hard cock flopped against his stomach. It would die down soon enough. Tommy folded his arms and rested his head against them, watching Evan relearn how to breathe.

Evan laughed again. "I think I died."

Tommy hummed. "It's a keeper then?"

Evan nodded enthusiastically. He smiled and it made Tommy's chest so warm. "Worth every penny," he said.

#ask games #bucktommy

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pedrosyouknowwhat · 3 months ago

Text

surrender

Summary: Catfish is made to choose.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOOOOT EATTTT. Noncon, dark dark themes, sexual slavery, reader is in pain and exhausted, heed all previous warnings, threatening, Dark Joel, forced drinking, manipulation, mentions of noncon, idk what else to tag

Pairings: Dark! Joel Miller x reader, Dark! Javier Peña x reader, Dark! Marcus Acacius x reader, Dark! Oberyn Martell x reader, Dark! Agent Whiskey x reader, Dark! Dieter Bravo x reader, Dark! Frankie Morales x reader

Series Masterlist

Joel felt over aware. As he sat down on the brittle wooden chair, fingerprints drawing circles on the table, the whiskey slid easily down his throat. Something he had gotten from trading with Jackson.

Your image dwindled on his mind, growing weaker by each passing minute. Naked, battered and bruised. He knew you were in pain, pretty cunt gaping obscenely. He knew that he could just crawl over you and fuck you once again if he wished it. You still laid in his bed, bathed and draped in new sheets, awaiting.

The door creaked open, the afternoon breeze accompanying the intruder of his thoughts. Whiskey’s shoulders squared with pride and his chest puffed, closing the door with a cocky kick of his heel.

Joel observed him as he strutted towards the table. His arm stretched under the thick denim of his jacket, and he presented his palm with a cocky grin.

The metal was tarnished, coppery, but the outline was clear. A tiny helicopter pin, Whiskey offered.

Joel felt amusement tug at his lips, but he schooled his expression. The pin clattered against the table, Joel’s eyes glued to it.

Sweet fucking Bingo.

The key to make you finally un-cling to Catfish right in his hands. He took it in his pointer and thumb, observing the way the kitchen light caught onto it.

Whiskey hummed, snapping him out of his thoughts once more.

“I think this settles for a good hour…” He drawled, eyebrow cocking teasingly. A part of him was joking, and the other part of him created a prominent bulge in his pants.

Joel avoided a disgusted scrunch of his face, fighting twitching muscles.

“She’ll need a break for tonight.” He declared, a solemn order that wiped the smirk off his man’s face. "But you'll be rewarded for this, that I promise."

Joel would he lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the way Catfish flinched as the refrigerator door slammed closed under his grip. The cool, condensed bottle sent jolts along his hands. He was buzzing with excitement as he twirled on his feet and planted the bottle on the table with a slight thump.

He ignored the hollers of enjoyment of his fellow men, kicking the chair and taking a seat. Catfish froze under his stare, the all consuming guilt, he pondered.

He grabbed the tumblers on the table, filling them up. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. He poured more onto the last one, and pushed the glass to his designated driver.

Catfish’s brows furrowed under the baseball cap, shaking his head slightly. Joel could see the circles under his eyes, could feel the tenseness of his tanned skin; all a result of you. Your stay in the house was driving him mad.

“Not drinking tonight.” Catfish grumbled, but Joel tapped the glass in front of him.

“You’ll need it.” He muttered, enough to make the others cast side eyed glances at him, with sneaky intrigue. An order.

Javier cleared his throat, flicking ashes into the tray. “How’s the bitch?”

Bitch. Joel liked the ring of that nickname.

Joel’s lips curled into a sloppy smirk. “Fucked out.” He responded casually. “Giving her some damn rest, she took it like a champ.”

Javier smiled in agreement, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Catfish’s hand tense around the condensed glass. Of course he wouldn't enjoy the way they talked about her.

“Gonna bring some ‘plan b’s tomorrow.” He informed, gingerly. “no need to knock her up.”

Joel felt his muscles turn taut, and he grounded his teeth.

“Definitely.” Dieter added, with an air of authority he shouldn’t have. “No need for a little fucker here.”

Some laughed, Oberyn tsked, eyes dreamy as always. “She’d look nice, all round, those tits would be something I’d die for.”

The chair screeched as Catfish rose to his feet, still clutching the tumbler in his hand. Eyes shot at him.

“Where ya going?” Joel barked, a bit more forceful than he would wanted to. God, adrenaline was nibbling at him.

Hatred.

It spread all around Catfish’s face as he looked at them. As if he was any more worthy than they were, any more good. A look he had from the very first time, when Joel recruited him, that told him he thought he was far above them.

“I’m going to bed.” He answered, though his feet stayed stuck to the ground, awaiting.

“No, you’re not.” Joel nudged to the chair. Catfish sat down with a sigh. Good boy.

“What’s the matter?” Acacius frowned, leaning back into the wooden seat. “Don’t like us talking about her like that?”

Catfish’s jaw twitched.

“You never had an issue before.” Whiskey added, the thick smoke of his cigar curling around him in the air. "you even fucked some bitches back then."

Catfish took a sip of whatever was in his cup, perhaps to deter the questioning, perhaps because of the way Joel burnt holes into his skull with his eyes was making him uneasy.

And they persisted.

“You are too soft on her,” Javier deemed between curls of smoke. "that's why she clings so much to ya."

They agreed silently, and Joel felt the flames of jealousy licking at his spine. Each time you mumbled his name softly, he could almost feel the need in your voice for it to be him. To be Catfish the man that was pleasuring you.

As if he was the only man that could do it.

"What were you talking about in the shower?"

Catfish's face paled, but he still cleared his throat. "Nothin'."

"Didn't sound like nothing." Joel bit, studying carefully the nervous flicker of Catfish's hands. "She wants ya to fuck her?"

Catfish grimaced at the crassness of his words, untouched by the way Joel dipped his hand onto the pocket of his shirt.

"She's loosing her mind." He cleared, voice a plea, an excuse, whatever. It didn't matter to Joel.

He shrugged before dropping the pin onto the table; Catfish's eyes flickered from the dark onyx pools that gazed slowly up at him and the tarnished metal that clattered against the table.

His lips parted.

Bingo.

"How's your boy?" Joel drawled, tapping his big, imposing fingers on the wooden table. For a mere moment, he was alone with Catfish, just them under the warm lamp light. "What was his name, Tyler?"

"Joel." Catfish groaned, eyes glued to the silver helicopter.

"When was the last time you saw him, huh?"

Hands curled onto fists, and they slammed against the table. Enough.

Perhaps Joel was blissfully ignorant of the men around them, but Catfish was painfully aware. They were the only thing deterring him from pouncing on top of him.

"What have you done?" He spat, voice shivering.

Joel chuckled darkly, "Nothin'." He retorted.

He could see the way silence clawed at his ears, oh so begging for an answer.

"I haven't done anything, yet." Joel punctuated, slowly feeding him. "Just like you haven't fucked our little bitch yet."

Realization casted on Catfish features, and he shook his head on instinct.

"Joel, this is serious-"

"You know what is serious to me?" He cut him short. "That I cannot possibly trust one of my men anymore, just because he is pussy-whipped with a pussy he doesn't even fuck."

Joel's glare was intense, diminishing Catfish with his sharp tongue.

"And if I can't trust ya, then I have no reason to keep evading that little camp were your son is at."

His final jab made Catfish's eyes cloud with frustration, tears almost brimming. Fear bubbled in his throat as he spoke.

"What do you want from me?"

Cracked.

"You have to fuck her."

Catfish let out a dry, humorless laugh. Panic was nipping at him.

"What do you win from that?"

Joel's brows furrowed. "I miss the times were you just obeyed."

But as his hand reached over to the pin, Catfish spoke again. "Fine, Joel, fine."

Sweat beaded at his forehead just below his baseball cap, and his puppy dog eyes were wide, fearful.

A smug grin tugged at Joel's lips, triumphant in all it's glory. He downed the glass and rose to his feet in anticipation.

"You don't mean-"

"Yes, now. Finish your drink."

Tags:

@tateypots @koshkaj-blog @paink1llerf0rm1ller @oldloganslittleslut @purple-fig @megjohnston23 @katwriteshardy @natalieispunk

@puduvallee @pedrofan @rant-throw-away @jalepp @lumpatto @miragens-para-uma-vitoria

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whateverwillbewilderme · 9 months ago

Text

Ford f*cks you in the name of science

Word count:2085

Warnings:F/M, medical kink, medical experimentation, examination, sexual experimentation, dubious consent, internal camera, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, friends to… something, sexual inexperience, bad sexual conduct in general

You gotta love Ford really. He’s smart, kind, and handsome too. There’s lots to love about a man who loves his family and only strives to be better for the sake of them and science. But god damn can he be stupid sometimes.

“Naturally, I’ll compensate you for your help today [name],” Ford says more professionally than the situation calls for. More than it deserves actually. It’s hard to be professional when your legs are up in stirrups and the only thing shielding your crotch from being visible to Ford is a thin sheet he gave you.

“And why exactly do you need to study my vagina ford?” You ask brusquely.

“Well- not your vagina exactly, your pelvic muscles. I need to see how your muscles react to certain stimuli.” He seems to stammer a bit at the bluntness of your question. But his answer seems ‘sciencey’ enough for you to believe he has no dubious intentions.

He turns away from the janky examination chair he set up for you and grabs what could be confused for a vibrator bullet connected to a long wire from his desk. “I made this specifically for this study, using the simplistic design of a common bullet vibrator with a hidden camera!” It’s odd how proud Ford is of his little creation, holding it up like it was the newest phone that everyone would go crazy over. “I will insert this inside you to capture the movements of your vaginal canal while the stimuli is in motion.” He explains naturally, his genius mind on science-mode (as you heard Stanley call it affectionately).

“So you’re gonna make me cum to see how my body reacts from the inside?” You clarify.

“Precisely my dear!” He says, proud that you understand. “I’m sure this will be helpful in my studies of reproductive biology in anomalies in gravity falls! If I completely understand coitus from a human perspective I can use it as a basis for my hypothesis for anomaly breeding!”.

You decide that this is weird and Stanford is way too excited to do this. But he is a good friend, so you suppose you can suffer through the awkwardness of letting your best friend make you cum. “ I guess that sounds reasonable.”

“Wonderful [name]! We must get straight to this!” Of course no foreplay. Ford's hands eagerly pull the sheet covering you off quickly, leaving you to try and clench your thighs closed instinctively. The stirrups hold strong enough against your attempt though and your movements are hopeless.

Ford turns back to his desk, fiddling with the computer to turn on his insertable camera. Once making sure it works correctly, he grabs a plain bottle of lube coating the metal frame of the camera completely before turning back to you. “Now, are you ready?” He says, excited to continue his experiment. You can only nod once before the tip of the camera is pressed against your entrance. A sharp intake of air and a grunt is enough to get Ford to slow down. “Sorry- sorry- should I have been slower?” Ford asks genuinely. “Fuck yeah, Ford! No prep or nothing?” You growl, “You’re this old and you still don’t know it’ll hurt if you force something inside me?”

The lubed-up camera almost slips out of Ford's six-finger grip as you reprimand him. In his defense, he does look guilty. “I’m sorry- I’m very unaware of human women’s body behavior- I wasn’t particularly popular with women when I was younger and the aliens I came across only copulated to reproduce.” He explained. For the first time, his cheeks flush a little in embarrassment. “You- you might have to teach me how to ‘warm you up’.” He infers, unsure of how to refer to the act. A sigh escapes you as you realize this is probably gonna be longer than you wanted it to go for. “God- okay. Grab the lube again, and put that damn camera down.” You order. He follows the orders quickly, dropping his precious invention on a medical tray and returning with the bottle, looking at you eagerly waiting for the next order. “Fuck… okay now did you bring an actual vibrator or something?” You ask, ashamed that this is a conversation you have to have. “Why would I?” He says obliviously.

What.

“Ford, what were you going to use to stimulate me exactly?” You ask exasperated.

“My penis of course?” He responds as if you asked a dumb question. “This is to study breeding habits in creatures, so I need to see how you react to an actual penis, not some plastic toy that goes vroom.”

“So you were going to fuck me. You were going to fuck me and you didn’t even tell me?” Ford immediately understands how fucked that sounds.

“…”

he’s embarrassed now.

“I understand where your worry is coming from now.” He mutters.

You sigh, almost ashamed at how dumb this genius could be. “Ya know what it’s fine. Totally chill.” You say, trying to convince yourself. “Let’s just get this over with.” He only nods silently, still too ashamed to say anything else.

“Put some lube on your fingers and s-start rubbing my…” you can only gesture to your crotch, too embarrassed to fully speak out the steps. He covers his index and middle fingers with a generous amount of gel but hesitates to actually touch. He lets out a shaky breath before the pads of his sticky fingers press down on your clit, slathering some of the lubricant over the small bundle of nerves before rubbing small circles over it.

It’s a shame how unsexy this scenario is because his hands do feel really good. Or maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve been properly fucked. Your breath hitches as he caresses you gently, putting down a little more pressure when he notices your breath change. “Yeah- like that.” You choke out, trying to keep any moans from slipping past your lips. You can feel a pulse in your core, and when ford drags his fingers down your slit they come back glistening with a layer of your arousal coating them. Ford continues the motions for a few minutes, getting the hang of the movements well enough that your thighs tense around the edges of the leg rests. “You- you can try slipping a finger in. Gently.” You say, biting down on your lip. He doesn’t nod or say anything, just moving his attention to your weeping hole. His eyes are trained on the whole mess between your legs, as if creating a mental diagram of what your messy pussy looks like right now. He pushes his index finger in, slowly moving it in deeper until he’s in at the knuckle.

“Fascinating. Your muscles relax as stimulation is given, allowing for more to be inserted.” He mumbles to himself. Removing his hand, he grabs the forgotten and cold camera. “Forgive me, but I think it’s best we start using this now before we go to far ahead.” He insists. Luckily this time there’s no resistance, and it slips in easily, your walls forming around it. His eyes are trained towards the monitor showing the feedback of the camera. His fingers slip back in, now two instead of one. Clenching your eyes shut and breathing deeply, a small moan escapes past your lips as ford watches the screen, moving his fingers at a steady pace. “Good. Good. You’re clenching around them you know? Oh well I’m sure you do know, you probably feel it more than I do.” He says, mind on auto pilot.

“F-fuck…”

“Hmm? Is this affecting you now? It must be since your body is responding so strongly. You’re wet too. I knew women created their own lubrications but this is more than I expected. My fingers are soaked [name].” It’s terrible how good he sounds when he’s not even trying to talk dirty. You can’t help but let your noises out now, you’re lightheaded from keeping them in for so long. “Ah- ford- it’s just a lot-“ you try and say between cries of pleasure.

“If this is a lot how will you take my cock, hmm? Please just be good and let me continue with my studies a little longer, okay?” He asks, voice low and intimidating, but so fucking hot.

He removes his fingers and while he initially moves to wipe the slick off of it on his pants, he curiously brings them to his lips, licking off whatever juices still soaked him. “How… interesting.” He simply says. “We’ll have to do this again. I’d like to see how you react to oral stimulation next time.” He suggests, his (now clean) hands reaching to undo his belt next. Pushing down his pants and underwear In one motion his cock springs up, already hard.

Looking down at it you can’t help but be a little intimidated. Fords not exactly a small man, and his manhood isn’t either. It’s a nice and satisfying 7 inches or so and delightfully girthy. Little grey curly hairs bunch up around the base of it but it doesn’t make his cock any less attractive. Too busy ogling at his member, ford smirks as he lines himself up to your entrance. “I’m glad you like it.” He says cockily. Ford grunts as he thrusts in slowly, his inches stretching you further despite the prepping. His hands grip down onto the chair as he forces the rest of his length inside. “Fuck- i get it now. Your- so fucking tight!” He growls, leaning over you in a pure display of dominance.

“You’re squeezing me so well you know?” He rasps. his hand takes your chin and forces your gaze on the monitor. “Look. Do you see how your body reacts to me?” It’s impossible to speak right now, head to hazy to think about forming sentences right now. All you can manage to mumble out is a “uh-uh” between moans, eyes trained on the camera feed showing fords cock piston in and out of you.

A particularly harsh thrust causes the tip of fords cock so deep that it bumps against your cervix. It hurts, but the pain mixes deliciously with the immense pleasure you also feel that you decide you don’t mind. “Ford-“ you cry out, walls spasming as you cum, muscles tightening around fords cock. “There it is… that’s what I wanted to see…” he growls, watching the screen intently. Looking back down at you, ford grips down on your hips hard and thrusts faster, chasing his own high now. The change in pace makes your thighs shake, moaning wildly as he pummels into you. “See? I said you’d be compensated didn’t I? Doesn’t this feel good darling? If you like this maybe I can tempt you into joining me in some more studies. You’d like that wouldn’t you [name], always such a good friend…” he moans, getting off to his own words. “Fuck- fuck- fuck- my good little experiment-“ he moans before shoving himself in as deep as he can, burying himself in your pussy as he cums, The sudden feeling of fullness choking you. The camera view is blurred by white as he fills your pussy up, some even leaking out of you and dripping onto the chair.

A few moments pass before either of you even attempt to speak, the only sounds in the lab being pants for air. You’re disappointed when ford pulls out of you, followed by a stronger drizzle of his cum pooling out onto the table too. “Hah- thank you for your participation in this project [name].” Ford sighs, cock still twitching. You can only mutter an “Uh-huh…” as you come back down from your high. Ford turns to his computer again to turn off the camera feed, grabbing a clean towel from the medical cart beside him and turning back to you. Pulling out the camera by its cord, he tosses it onto the cart before he spends some time toweling you down.

“I enjoyed this, enjoyed you dear. For more than the science.” He admits, his eyes meeting yours. “I um- I did too ford. Did you really mean it when you said you wanted to do this again?” You ask, pulling your tired legs down from the stirrups. One of fords hands grabs one of your legs as you pull it down, then he leans in and leaves a kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“Dear… I’d love to do this again.”

#gravity falls x reader #stanford pines x reader #ford pines

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 4 months ago

Note

The last ask was amazing!!!! Ahhhh I love the angst!!!

Unfortunately I will be needing a part 2 to the last ask!!

I’m dying to know how reader is getting around without her chair and what Johnny makes for her!!!

Nowhere to Run: Part 2

Pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Wheelchair-user!Reader

Warnings: Injury recovery, frustration, Johnny being unhinged in the best way, Kyle being the best boyfriend, lots of comfort and fluff

Author’s Note: You are not ready for this. You’re getting the full Johnny MacTavish Experience™, complete with questionable decision-making, hidden compartments, and a disco mode. Enjoy the added bonus!

Summary: With your wheelchair destroyed, you're stuck relying on others, something you absolutely hate. But Johnny has a plan—and a few surprises.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

Kyle had barely left your side since the rescue.

He had been there through everything—the hospital stay, the grueling check-ups, the physical therapy. He had held your hand when the doctors poked and prodded, whispering reassurances when pain made you grit your teeth.

Now, back at home, he still hovered, watching you like you might disappear if he so much as blinked.

"You comfortable, love?" Kyle asked, adjusting the pillows behind your back for the third time that afternoon.

You sighed. "Kyle, I’m fine."

His brow quirked. "You’re in bed because you can’t move around without a chair. Humor me."

You crossed your arms, scowling. He wasn’t wrong, but you hated this—hated feeling stuck, hated needing help for every little thing. You weren’t helpless.

You just… didn’t have your chair.

That damn chair, smashed to pieces in that warehouse, along with everything else you had relied on for years.

Kyle reached out, gently running a thumb over the back of your hand. "Johnny’s working on something."

You exhaled slowly. "I just don’t like being stuck, Kyle."

His grip tightened around your fingers. "You won’t be for long."

Right on cue, the front door slammed open.

"ALRIGHT, YA LAZY LOT, I’VE GOT A SURPRISE!"

Kyle groaned, already bracing himself.

Johnny strolled into the room, positively beaming like he had just built the eighth wonder of the world. He was pushing something covered by a large sheet, his movements far too smug for your liking.

Behind him, Simon followed at a much more reasonable pace, arms crossed over his chest. "If this thing explodes, I’m not responsible."

Your gaze flickered to the covered object. Then, back to Johnny. "What did you do?"

Johnny dramatically whipped off the sheet with a flourish.

And there it was.

Your new wheelchair.

But it wasn’t just any wheelchair.

The frame was sleek—sturdy but somehow lightweight, the design clearly built to take a beating if needed. The wheels were reinforced with extra plating, the footrests padded for comfort. And—oh, Johnny really went all out—there were compartments.

And right at the back of the chair, bolted securely to one of the handles, was a brand-new metal plate.

The words were etched deep, bold enough that they would never fade:

JOHNNY ROCKS (again)

Your throat tightened.

Johnny rubbed the back of his neck. "Figured if some bastards are gonna keep targetin’ ya, you should at least have a chair that can fight back."

Simon grunted. "It’s practically a tank."

You ran your fingers over the engraving, your chest aching. The metal was cool beneath your touch, smooth where Johnny had polished it down.

"You made this?" you asked softly.

Johnny puffed up. "Damn right I did. Reinforced frame, puncture-proof tires, and a few… extras."

Kyle knelt beside you, his eyes warm. "What do you think, love?"

You swallowed, blinking hard. Then, you looked at Johnny. "I think you’re gonna make me cry, MacTavish."

Johnny smirked. "Then my job here is done."

Kyle helped you into the chair, adjusting everything to make sure it was comfortable. It fit perfectly—rolling smoothly, turning effortlessly.

But then, as you settled in, your fingers brushed over something strange.

A keypad.

You glanced up at Johnny, then back down at the small panel installed onto the armrest. "What’s this for?"

There were four buttons, each a different color—red, yellow, blue, and green. On the other armrest, there was a single large button, a bright shade of purple.

Johnny beamed like a madman. "Glad you asked."

He pulled something from his pocket—a very crumpled piece of paper. No, wait—a sticky note. Or, at least, it used to be a sticky note before it got folded to hell and back.

The faded neon-yellow paper was covered in scratchy, barely legible handwriting—the same chaotic scrawl that matched the engraving on your chair.

You took the note, squinting at the mess of words.

Yellow = Light

Red = Boom

Blue = Water

Green = Storage

Your brows furrowed. Then, you flipped the note over.

On the back, written in even bigger letters:

Purple = DISCO!

Beside it was a tiny stick-figure, arms raised like it was vibing.

You stared. Then, very slowly, your gaze returned to Johnny.

He grinned.

With a mix of hesitation and curiosity, you pressed the purple button.

A small panel popped open from the side of the chair.

A disco ball emerged.

And then—

Blasting from hidden speakers—

"Stayin’ Alive" by the Bee Gees.

Johnny let out the most hideous cackle you had ever heard.

Then, to make matters worse—he started dancing.

The sprinkler. The shopping cart. The worst robot you had ever seen.

Kyle dropped his face into his hands. "Why are you like this?"

You pressed the purple button again.

The music cut off. The disco ball retracted.

Johnny pouted. "Buzzkill."

Kyle sighed. "Explain the rest before I lose my mind."

Johnny cleared his throat, pointing at the keypad. "Red? Fireworks. Small ones—just enough to cause a distraction if ya need it."

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can’t believe you gave them fireworks."

Johnny ignored him. "Blue? Water pack. Ya got a built-in hydration system—straw’s right there, near your hand. Just pull it up when you need a drink."

You blinked. "Okay, that’s actually genius."

Johnny preened. "Green’s storage—extra compartments for whatever ya need."

Kyle nodded approvingly. "That’s useful."

"And yellow?" you asked.

Johnny waggled his eyebrows. "Mood lighting."

You pressed the yellow button.

The entire chair lit up with shifting LED lights.

Kyle let out a laugh. "Jesus."

Johnny clapped his hands. "Party mode, activated!"

You shook your head, biting back a smile. "You’re ridiculous."

He winked. "Aye, but ya love it."

Kyle squeezed your hand. "You ready to go outside, love?"

You grinned, rolling forward. "Hell yes."

As Kyle pushed you toward the door, his fingers brushed the metal plate at the back of the chair. His heart swelled with relief, love, and something deeper.

You were safe. You were smiling.

And no one was ever going to take you away again.

---

BONUS

As Kyle wheeled you toward the door, Johnny, who had been far too pleased with himself, suddenly spun on his heel and slammed the purple button again.

*"Dancin', yeah!"*

The disco ball popped back out, flashing like it belonged in a nightclub, and the absolute worst 70s dance track started blasting through the hidden speakers.

Johnny immediately broke into another round of horrendous dance moves. The sprinkler. The lawnmower. The worst moonwalk you had ever seen.

Kyle groaned. "Soap."

"Aye, aye, hold on!" Johnny shimmied closer to you, doing some chaotic combination of a *twist* and *a jazz square* before dramatically throwing a finger in the air. "One more time, bonnie! Feel the groove!"

Before you could react, a large gloved hand clamped onto Johnny’s shoulder.

Simon sighed—long, suffering. "Nope."

And with zero hesitation, he shoved Johnny out of the room.

"OI!" Johnny yelped, stumbling as Simon all but bulldozed him through the door. "Ya can't just—I'm in me groove, LT!"

The music abruptly cut off as Simon *slammed* the door behind them.

Silence.

You turned to Kyle, biting your lip.

He let out a long, slow breath. Then, he chuckled. "Finally."

His warm fingers curled over yours, grounding you in the quiet. His voice softened, his forehead resting against yours. "You alright, love?"

You smiled. "I am now."

And for the first time in days, you really meant it.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

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dronebiscuitbat · 10 months ago

Text

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 82)

The pod now lay in peices, a small team of drones hovering over each section, taking note of the way it was designed and more importantly why, so that it could be properly emulated then construction began on the proper escape shuttle.

That's what Uzi was doing now, sitting on a chair in the outdoor workshop that one of her team insisted she sit on instead of standing, and thinking realistically on what they would need to escape Copper- 9's gravity well safely and, more than that land somewhere else without being cooked in the atmosphere.

Aluminum, lots of it, first and foremost, it was the lightest metal they had on hand, and thankfully, present in the vehicles that littered the roads, the bunker had a forge, it was offline at the moment (because they had no use for an industrial grade forge) but it shouldn't be too difficult to reactivate. They had enough solid fuel to keep it running temporarily… just long enough to see this through.

N and V could both lift cars with ease, so getting the burned out vehicles into the bunker was also a non-issue, so at the very least, they had that covered.

Oxygen wasn't needed, Drones didn't need to breathe, she… could breathe, but it seemed like she didn't really need to all the time if her vents could get enough air into her system unaided, it was only went she was doing something laborus or anxiety inducing would they really start going. They need some sort of air though… so it will have to be pressurized in some way.

Khan would probably be in charge of that, pressurized doors sounded right up his area of expertise, so she filed that away for something to give to him.

Next came recharging, it was probably a good idea to reuse the standing charge pods that were present in the landing pods, it would be uncomfortable sure… but it would save on space and weight.

With all that in mind, she began a preliminary sketch, trying to fit in as many charging pods in as little space as she physically could, the bigger the shuttle, the longer it would take to construct and the harder it would be to get out of the planets gravity.

The gravity wasn't very strong… lacking a core would do that, but light was best regardless.

“Liz, I'm not going to ask you to do this… it's more my responsibility…” She heard V's voice from outside the building, sounding wary and tired.

“Hell no, girl you are not claiming sole responsibility. We're all part of this now. May as well own it.” And that was Lizzy, Uzi grumbled lightly, glad that Tera was with N at the moment.

“Heeeey.” Lizzy poked her head into the doorway, it now had a sheet over it to keep out some of the draft, Uzi shivered slightly as the freezing wind hit her silicone, her core fluttering in displeasure.

“What?” Uzi asked gruffly, not wanting to really interact with her, she wouldn't call them enemies now, but a “freind” was probably still a bit of a stretch.

Even so Lizzy trapised up right to her side, V following close behind, arms crossed and looking like she'd just lost a fight with a bear.

Lizzy, the bear in question, leaned on the table in front of Uzi, quiet for a moment, V's eyes never left her, as if begging her to not do whatever she was about to.

“So V said you and N have a nest.” She started, making Uzi freeze up for a moment, feeling the embarrassment crawl up her back before shoving it down, there was nothing embarrassing about it.

“Yes.” She said simply, turning her head up from her very important work that she would very much like it get back to. Lizzy made no indication that she was phased by it.

“And that she's been sleeping in it for the past couple of days.”

Uzi blinked. Was… was Lizzy jealous? Of V sleeping in N and hers nest? Oh! Oh that was hilarious!

“Mmmhm?” A small smirk made it's way to her face, Lizzy didn't seem to notice it.

“Great! You won't mind a fourth then right?”

And suddenly the smirk was gone, and she heard V let out the world's most ‘done with this woman’ sigh she'd ever heard.

“Uh, Yes I do mind! Why do you even want to?!” Uzi exclaimed, sketch now long forgotten due to the audacity of this woman! Uzi didn't ask if she could sleep in Lizzy's bedroom, what gave the right for Lizzy to?

“Because V thinks it's her job and only her job to take care of you when N isn't around, and that's not right when I'm right here!” She pointed to herself, flipping her hair like she was the obvious choice.

“I don't need taken care of. I'm fine! I don't need all of you doting on me!” Uzi snapped, standing up quickly in protest… too quickly, her vison blurred for a moment as she was hit with vertigo, swaying and holding her head for a moment.

Lizzy steadied her on one side, V on the other, Uzi grumbled, leaning more into V automaticaly when her lovely warmth washed over her.

“Uh huh, face it girl, you need help and you can't hog my…” V looked at her, blushing furiously as she made a cutting motion with her hand.

“B-bestie all to yourself.” Lizzy finished with a stammer and a wild blush, Uzi rolled her eyes, why did they even try to hide it anymore? It was so obvious it hurt. Her and N weren't this bad. Right?

“Bite me. Both of you.” She grumbled, but her body betrayed her by purring loudly when she felt V pet her head gently, making Lizzy giggle and Uzi blush madly.

“Uh, Uzi?” The three girls turned around, Thad poking his head into the room with a sheepish smile on his face, his eyebrow raised as if he was asking a question.

“No.” Uzi groaned, but it clearly didn't matter, she felt Lizzy nod and then punch V in the arm, and she nodded as well. “NO.” She said more sternly, she wanted the nest to be private!

And yet… that daybreak the nest was full of all six of them, N and Herself, sleeping in the middle with Tera between them, V and Lizzy, curled up next to each other, V's tail and arm wrapped around her protectively, and Thad passed out in a corner, snoring like a freight train…

And she slept like a baby…

Next ->

#murder drones #uzi doorman #serial designation n #nuzi #biscuitbites #oil is thicker then blood #tera doorman #i swear the next one will be longer... I got so busy today.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 11 months ago

Note

Crewel taking care of a puppy found in the street and return it to the owner.

This interaction could have easily turned into a long fic (which I unfortunately don’t have the time for) so 😅 I’m afraid I had to cut it short! Luckily I was still able to sneak in some 101 Dalmatians and Cruella references.

If he doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will.

It happened on a rainy afternoon in the Foothill Town.

Umbrella open like a flower, Crewel made his way down the street. In his other hand was a fragrant bag full of high-quality tea leaves begging to be brewed into a nice warm cup.

Sheets of mist fell upon the rooftops, tracing shapes in a shimmering silver. It was chilly—not a concern for him, as he was outfitted in his signature fur coat. He was careful to take light steps to avoid splashing rainwater onto his well-tailored clothes.

A faint light cut through the gloom. It snagged on his periphery, drew his eyes toward it.

He came to a complete stop.

There, displayed in a boutique window, was a mannequin in a floral petticoat and a white ruffled skirt layered like a tiered cake. It was posed provocatively, legs propped up on a chair and body tilted back, hand on the hip. Scrawled on the glass pane was a shockingly scarlet message, as if scribbled by a drunken woman in her bright red lipstick: It should be fun!

“What a marvelous display,” Crewel mused. My compliments go to the designer.

The rain continued to fall like an icy shroud around him. The circle of golden light spilling from the lit interior of the boutique was his safe haven from the weather.

Surely it wouldn’t hurt to take a look—perhaps when I’m down browsing, the rain will have let up.

He headed for the door, swinging it open. His entry wad announced by the ringing of a bell, followed by soft scampering across the floorboards.

As Crewel made to close his umbrella, something quickly brushed by his pant leg.

He looked—and startled.

A Dalmatian pup had bolted in, its fur sopping wet from the outside. It skidded to a stop before him and aggressively shook itself off, sending a fine spray of water in all directions… and on Crewel’s tailored slacks. He blinked, but found himself crouching down to its level.

What do we have here, a lost pup?

The boutique owner cursed from behind the front counter. “Sir, please curb your dog!”

“It’s not my…” His voice trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to protest.

The Dalmatian, ever so fearless, gave a friendly bark. It nuzzled against his leg, staring up at him with large chocolatey eyes.

The puppy earned a low laugh from Crewel.

“Diving into doors when the opportunity arises, drying yourself off on me… Hmph, you’re a scrappy one. I can’t say I dislike that. Come here.”

Crewel carefully scooped up the shivering creature in his arms. With a curt nod and an apology to the shopkeeper, he retreated to a quiet corner of the boutique, shielding the puppy in his coat. It pawed against his vest and tracking mud onto the fabric. Crewel sighed—he’d have to get the entire suit dry-cleaned later.

“Let’s have a proper look at you,” he muttered, bringing the Dalmation out again.

It was a small thing, dotted like every other dog of its breed. Notably, a large black spot swallowed its left eye.

Up close, he could tell it was no stray. No, this dog was far too full-bodied and muscular to be getting by on only scraps. Its fur, too shiny and trimmed.

… That, and there was a telltale crimson band around its neck. A collar, a metal tag glinting in the store’s bright lights. Patch, it read, male. When Crewel grasped it and turned it over, the tag yielded an address and phone number.

“Ah, that must be your owner,” Crewel tutted. “How naughty of you to make your escape. Shall I bring you back there?”

Patch responded with a hapless grin and a slobbery kiss. He began to go in for a second lick, but the attempt ended in a loud sneeze.

The boutique owner casted them a dirty look.

Crewel rolled his eyes but provided a polite “We’ll be on our way.

He stepped outside, umbrella out again. Crewel regarded his canine companion fondly, ruffling its head.

“Come along, you little rascal. We can’t return you to your owner in this sorry state.

“My apartment here on Sage’s Island is small, but it can temporarily accommodate one puppy. I’ll run you a bath and clean you up before then. A hot meal is also in order—this weather is awful.”

Patch yipped enthusiastically at his newfound friend. Whether he understood what was happening or not was debatable, but he seemed happy either way.

“I’ll take that as I have your permission to proceed.” Crewel draped his coat over Patch, holding him close.

They would brave the storm together, man and man’s best friend.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Divus Crewel #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #It’s Raining Crows and Dogs #101 dalmatians #cruella

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randomthefox · 8 months ago

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You know what would make an AMAZING short animation for Sonic? While Eggman is trying to create a new robot after his latest defeat, he gets bored and gloomy. He's a bit down from getting kicked in the ass by Sonic all the time. But then he gets the brilliant idea of pranking everyone to get back at them and cure his boredom. Eggman would be SO great at pulling pranks. XD

I can picture that really vividly. Camera showing a view of Eggmans workshop in the dark. Suddenly the door swings open with the light flooding in, Eggman stomping his way inside nursing a big bandage cross on the top of his head and picking blue quills out of his butt.

Grumbling he slams his way into his work chair and swivels to his building station, already pulling out schematics and blueprints to start designing his next scheme. But his foot bumps against a trash can which is filled with crumpled up blueprint paper, he fishes a few out and unwraps them to inspect and sees they're the discarded schematics from boss mechas from previous games. Going through each and every design which was attempted, and destroyed. At first with an angry expression on his face, but then it starts to get more sullen and depressed as he goes through sheet after sheet after sheet after sheet after sheet. Each and every one was a failure. Maybe even complete with a little sketch doodle animation on the blueprint paper of Sonic breaking the mecha and laughing in a little squeaky voice.

Eggman slumps over the desk with his head in his hands, tugging at his mustache in frustration. Combing through a literal pile of his failed past schemes is making him gloomy. He pushes away from his work desk and just staggers out of the room and starts idly roaming through his base. Inspecting the assembly lines. Looking over animal containment cages. His badniks manning those stations stiffening up nervously from his presence, but Eggman is basically just doing this meme.

Eventually as he's milling around listlessly he trips on a pile of nuts and bolts and falls flat on his ass. The badniks nearby when it happens scatter in fear of an ensuing tantrum. But he just lays on his back for a few seconds. Then he sits up and looks down at the stuff he tripped on, and toes at the pile for a second. Then his eyes widen and a big twinkle comes to his face and he starts grinning wide and huge as inspiration strikes.

Cut to Knuckles walking around on Angel Island, wandering around just on patrol. Then he struts back to where the master emerald only to stop and gawk with shocked horror. The camera panning around to show the emerald had toilet paper flung across the entire shrine and dripping yoke and broken egg shells from tossed eggs splattered all over it. Knuckles starts stomping around and raging while the camera pulls back showing Eggman hiding in the bushes cackling to himself.

Cut to Amy walking home while holding a bag of groceries, and once she gets in front of her door she pulls out the keys to unlock it and go inside, but once she tries stepping into the house she trips and falls flat dropping her grocery bag. She pushes up with a startle and looks down, and finding that her feet are stuck to the welcome mat which has been turned into a glue trap! She double takes with confusion, then glances up and looks around left to right in surprise at the sound of Eggman howling with laughter in the distance.

Cut to Tails in his hanger working on the Tornado, he takes a break wiping his brow and going over to his work desk to pop a mint into his mouth. Only to grimace and scrunch his face up, then coughs the mint out and sticks his tongue out while clutching at his throat. He frowns and inspects the mint and finds his entire bowl of candy has been replaced with what is conspicuously just metal nuts that have been painted to look like mints. Tails frowns and turns around and then gasps to find that the Tornado is sitting on top of cinderblocks, the landing gear wheels missing like a hub cap jacking.

Cut to Sonic sleeping under a tree in the shade, only for the shade to darken into a shadow as Eggman looms over him. Pov turning back to show Eggmans grinning laughing face as he leans in towards the camera until he fills up the entire frame with darkness. Then cut to later in the day with the camera sitting behind Sonics shoulder, he yawns awake and stretches. Suddenly Knuckles Amy and Tails all show up, all of them carrying the indications of their pranks Knuckles holding the entire master emerald aloft Amy stumbling with glue still on her feet and Tails holding the bowl of nut mints. They all converge in front of Sonic starting to chirp and complain, only to stop and stare as Sonic stands up and regards them with confused concern with the camera still looking just behind his shoulder. Then all three of them burst into laughter looking at Sonic, and the camera sweeps around showing Sonic's face - completely drawn over with magic marker making a fake mustache black eye and monocle and other silly scribbles all across him from chin to forehead while Sonic just looks baffled.

Cut back to Eggmans workshop just as Eggman is sitting back down at his desk, smiling and sighing with rejuvenated energy. Then he pulls out a fresh blueprint sheet and starts drawing away at a new mech design, the camera slowly pulling away while he giggles under his breath as he draws and some jaunty midi tune cover of E.G.G.M.A.N. plays out the video before it cuts to credits.

#eggman #dr. eggman #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #tails #miles tails prower #miles prower #knuckles the echidna #amy rose #classic sonic #classic eggman

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asayamas · 22 days ago

Text

Parts

Eccentric of The Black Rabbit Brotherhood Centric Fic

Warnings: Eccentrics Living Standards, Battle Maniac

(It’s short but I kept thinking about Eccentric, I love him dearly, so I wanted to do more centric fics on him but exploring his mannerisms and how he ticks yk? So enjoy!)

The snow pelted down heavily onto the cobbled streets of Krat. The Carnival set up in the Gardens of Krat Zoo covered in a blanket of pure white, the occasional flicker of the garland lights bouncing off the snow. It looks so serene and peaceful until muttering and footprints broke through. A Stalker wearing a Bucket as a mask trudged through the snow, crunching under his feet and clutching his long fur coat over his tall frame.

“It’s fucking freezing!” He gasped out to himself, blowing on his hands (even though covered by leather gloves). The young man eventually got to a black door with the mark of the Black Rabbit Brotherhood painted in white on it. “Finally, where’s the key…” The Man mumbled, patting his sides to feel for a key in his pocket. No luck. He pulled open the fur coat to open the leather bag affixed to his upper thigh. Again, no key, just his usual tools he carried with him incase his siblings needed any weapon adjustments on the road.

The man let out an exasperated groan, head falling to rest against the locked door. “Well done, Massimo. Now Teo will definitely kill me.” He whined, lamenting his fate when his brother finds out he lost his key, again. “Welp…” He sighed, reaching back into his tool bag and pulling out a lock-pick. He leant down and inserted the pick into the lock, twirling it around for a few minutes before he heard the delightful ‘click’ of the lock being release. Massimo let out a proud laugh and opened the door, happy to be out of the cold and in his little hideaway.

“Home sweet home!” The Eccentric man cheered, shedding the fur coat (that wasn’t even his) and tossing it on a forgotten chair in the corner of the small space. “Right then.” He hummed, taking off his bucket mask and giving his dark hair a shake to get rid of the ‘bucket look’ as his little sister had elegantly put it.

He placed the bucket down on the stool adjacent to his workdesk before grabbing another stool for himself to sit on. Moe grabbed his sketchbook and flicked through the yellowing pages until he got to a page with a spear design. “Right so…I just need to figure out what parts I need for this.” He mumbled, tapping his pencil against the side of the spear. “The materials will be good for electricity conduction so…”

The Eccentric rambled to himself on and on, drawing different designs, testing materials he had in his workshop until the sun started to set. The workshop door creaked open slowly, a man in a rabbit mask standing in the doorway, arms folded.

“Did you pick the bloody lock again?” The man asked making the Eccentric turn to him with a cheeky grin.

“I would never~” Moe replied in a sickly sweet voice.

“I don’t understand how you manage to lose 23 keys in one month, Moe.” The Battle Maniac sighed, closing the door behind him and dumping a sack full of metal parts on the floor. “Anyway, the parts. Big Brother and I went to the swamp.” He said, arms returning to being folded.

“I told you, I don’t mean to lose them!” Moe explained, standing up and walking over to the parts. “This is brilliant! Thanks, Bro!” He gave his brother a thumbs up and a pat on his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah.” Maniac waved him off, not one for pleasantries. “Vito also said to give you these as you probably won’t come to HQ for a while.” The man dangled a smaller bag in front of the taller man. Massimo took it and opened it to see a small amount of rations and water, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Ah! Cheers!” Massimo smiled, placing the bag by his ‘bed’ (a sheet on the floor). “Just stay safe and stay out of trouble. You know where we are.” Maniac said over his shoulder on his way to the door. “You should really find a bed, can’t be good for you.” He commented dryly making Massimo cackle in response.

“Crazy coming from you, Matteo! King of sleeping on chairs!” Moe laughed, giving Matteo a mock bow. The scarfed rabbit let out a dry snort before opening the door. “Whatever. Just…stay safe. Come back to HQ.” He reminded his brother. “And stop losing your key!” Were his parting words, closing the door behind him.

Massimo rolled his eyes, saluting the door before hurrying back to the new parts. He rummaged through them like a mad man, pulling out chunks of metal, puppets, old weapons. This was his bread and butter after all. Eventually he managed to get a pile of usable parts for his newest creation.

“Screw the Workshop. Whatever I make will be better.” He muttered to himself, his usual shrill tone gone. “I’m not great at fighting but I’ll always be able to help with this.”

#lies of p #black rabbit brotherhood #my fics

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tegrasstuff · 2 months ago

Text

Chamber's tattoos are actually made of pure gold, which is no secret. Made of hard metal, which theoretically should not succumb to the movements of the body and its bends.

For a long time, Sova looked at the patterns that sparkled mesmerizing in the light. He squinted, so attentively watching the curves of the gold as Chamber moved his arms. At first, it seemed that the tattoo master was incredibly talented, since he was able to convey such a realistic sparkle of gold on a person's skin, until the man began to notice that tattoos sparkle differently in different lighting. This puzzled him.

---

"What are you doing?" said Chamber, and turned his head to the Sova. They had a few days off from work and could allow them to go about their doings in peace.

The drawings lay on the table, the lead of the pencil rustled on the paper. For a long time, there have been more automated ways of creating drawings through programs, but it is easier for a designer to work with the traditional variant. After all, paper has its own limit to erasure, which makes Chamber think more rationally, as a result the drawings can be created faster and they are more thoughtful. But it is hard to work under the gaze of another person, there is a glimmer of hope that telepathically his thoughts will be heard and understood, but this didn't happen.

Brown eyes met different ones.

Sasha was lying on the table with his hands folded under his head, and his eyes showed interest like a child's, his eyebrows were openly raised. Grandmother did her best when she raised this young man. Despite the menacing expression on Sova's face at work, in other time he was the brightest sun in the world.

-I'm looking at your tattoos.-direct answer. - Tell me about their structure.

"What exactly do you want to know, sweetheart?"

Sasha straightened up in his chair with a sigh and lowered his look to the ceiling. There were a lot of thoughts at a time, it took a second to formulate the questions.

- First of all, explain how such metal yields to the movements of your body.

Vincent scratched his head comically with the tip of his pencil, thinking. He was rich in words, his sweet and wise words impressed many peoples, the strangers emotions in his hands were like clay in the hands of a master, pliable. But when the topic turned to his technology, his speech was noticeably scarce. This strict topic don't allow sweet speeches, only clarity, which is not clear to many, this need good experience.

Vincent silently brought the pencil to the paper and drew small hexagons with quick movements, being close to each other. Honeycombs look the same way. A tiny sketch of six figures would have been enough to explain, but the man continued to draw. His light hand and keen eye created perfect straight lines without a ruler, not a single figure moved either to the left or to the right, which is confirmed by his many years of experience. He stopped when there were about fifteen figures on the paper and pushed the sheet to his curious "student". Sasha looked attentively. He understood everything without words.

- Each of these hexagons is equal to about a micrometer, there is a certain distance between them. The scales move freely and do not shackle my movement. I don't feel them, except for the cold in bad weather. Metal give its warmth to the environment. On the neck, this is most unpleasant.- He smiled at the corners of his eyes and lips, involuntarily showed his tiny wrinkles for a second. The most charming creature in the world is the gentle Vincent without sarcasm and jokes.

Sasha watched and listened. For a long time he looked at the brunet's gilded temples and neck, wondering in advance whether Vincent would refuse his offer.

- I know that you are a lover of expensive and beautiful. But what do you think about the knitted hat and scarf?

Vincent laughed softly, shaking his head. Sasha's attention to the comfort of loved ones always touched his soul.

"Don't worry, Mon hibou. You know Omen likes kniting, so I definitely don't get cold in winter."

---

The evening continued with a discussion of Vincent's tattoo technology, teleporters, and weapons. As befits all conversations, the topics followed one another until they calmed down and turned into a pleasant silence.

Sasha fell asleep at the table near his husband.

Татуировки Чембера на самом деле состоят из чистого золота, что не секрет. Из твердого металла, что теоретически не должен поддаваться движениям тела и его изгибам.

Сова долго рассматривал со стороны витьеватые узоры, что завораживающе сверкали при свете. Прищуривался, так внимательно наблюдая за изгибами золота при движении. Думалось сначала, что мастер невероятно талантлив, раз смог передать настолько реалистичное сверкание золота на коже человека, пока мужчина не стал подмечать, что при разном освещении татуировки сверкают по-разному. Это его озадачивало.

---

-что ты делаешь?- не выдержал Чембер и повернул голову к Сове. У них были несколько дней выходных от работы и могли позволить заниматься спокойно своими делами.

Чертежи лежали на столе, грифель меиаллического карандаша шуршал по бумаге. Уже давным давно существую более автоматизированные пути создания чертежей через программы, но дизайнеру легче работать традиционным вариантом. Ведь бумага имеет свой лимит к стиранию, что заставляет думать более рационально, вследствие чертежи продуманнее и рождаются быстрее. Но работать под пристальным взглядом другого человека тяжело, теплится надежда, что телепатически его мысли будут услышаны и поняты, но не судьба.

Карие глаза встретились с несочетающимися. Саша лежал на столе сложа руки под голову, а глаза его излучали интерес, как у ребенка, брови открыто подняты. Бабушка постаралась, когда воспитывала этого молодого человека. Не смотря на грозный вид на работе, в свободное время это было самое яркое солнце в мире.

-изучаю твои татуировки.-прямой ответ. - расскажи мне об их строении.

-что именно ты хочешь узнать, золото?

Саша со вздохом выпрямился на стуле и потупил взор на потолок. Много было мыслей за раз, понадобилась секунда, чтобы сформулировать вопросы.

- для начала объясни, как такой металл поддается движениям твоего тела.

Винсент комично почесал затылок кончиком карандаша, думая. Он был богат на слова, его сладкие и мудрые речи впечатляли многих, эмоции людей в его руках словно глина в руках мастера, поддатливые. Но когда тема заходила про его технологии, речь его заметно скуднела. Эта строгая тема не позволяла сладких речей, только четкость, что многим не понятна, для этого нужен хороший опыт.

Винсет молча подвел карандаш к бумаге и быстрыми движениями рисовал маленькие шестиугольники, плотно прилегающие друг к другу сторонами. Так же выглядят пчелинные соты. Для объяснения бы хватило крошечного набросока в шесть фигур, но мужчина чертил дальше. Его легкая рука и зоркий глаз создавали идеальные прямые линии без линейки, ни одна фигура не съехала ни левее, ни правее, что подтверждает его многолетний опыт. Он остановился, когда фигур на бумаге было примерно пятнадцать и пододвинул листочек своему любопытному "ученику". Саша внимательно смотрел, хоть все прекрасно понял без слов.

- каждый из этих шестиугольников равен примерно микрометру, между ними есть определенное расстояние. Чешуйки свободно двигаются и не сковывают мои конечности. Я не чувствую их, за исключением холода в плохую погоду. Металл очень охотно отдает свое тепло в окружающую среду. На шее это больше всего неприятно.- он улыбнулся уголками глаз и губ, непроизвольно показал свои крошечные морщинки на секунду. Самое очаровательное создание в мире-мягкий Винсент без сарказма и шуток.

Саша наблюдал и слушал. Долго он смотрел на позалоченные виски и шею брюнета и гадал заранее, откажется ли Винсент от его предложения.

-Я знаю, что ты любитель дорогого и красивого. Но что думаешь по поводу вязанной шапочки и шарфа?

Винсент мягко посмеялся,покачивая головой. Внимание Совы к комфорту близких всегда его умиляла.

- не переживай, мон хибоу. Ты знаешь, что Омен тоже любит таким заниматься, так что я точно не мерзну зимой.

---

Вечер продолжился в обсуждении технологий татуировок, телепортов и оружия Винсента. Как подобает всем разговорам, темы сменяли друг друга до тех пор, пока вовсе не стихли и превратились в приятную тишину.

Саша уснул за столом рядом со своим мужем.

#valorant #valorant sova #chamber valorant #somber valorant #sova x chamber #valorant headcanons #headcanon

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jjj-no-studio · 9 years ago

Text

鐵皮印象/iron sheet

鐵皮, 一體兩面的呈現出臺灣社會的多元價值觀, 外國旅客眼中的新鮮特色,卻是國人眼中的景觀殺手, 鄉村的鐵皮屋、城鎮的頂樓加蓋、騎樓的鐵捲門、外推陽台的搭建,「鐵皮」都是你我熟悉的主角, 導水的用途, 影響了造型；快速的滿足需求, 導致大量的擴張, 滲透日常, 儼然已成為文化的一部分.

Iron sheet, it shows multiple perspectives of Taiwanese society, a new feature to foreign travelers, but an unpleasant mark to local citizens. From metal houses in counties, rooftop add-on in cities, rolling steel doors on pedestrian arcades, to balcony constructions, “iron sheets” are familiar to us. Its drainage function made its appearances; meeting the demands this fast leads to huge expansion into our daily, being a part of culture.

盛行因素/Popular Reason

氣候條件/Climate conditions 臺灣地處熱帶及亞熱帶氣候區之交界，夏季炎熱漫長多雨；海島地形，四面環海導致冷空氣受到海洋調和，冬季相較鄰近區域溫暖，鐵皮特性反映臺灣氣候條件。 Taiwan is on the common border of tropical and subtropical region, with the long, hot, and rainy summer; cold air is balanced by the surrounding sea, by comparison, winter is warmer then neighboring countries. The characteristic of iron sheets is the reflection of Taiwan’s climatic condition. 結構疏水/Drainability 傳統多採木構與磚石建築，直至民國六、七十年代，鋼筋混泥土技術盛行，平屋頂的特性無法有效排水。 Traditionally, woods and bricks are often being used on constructing, not until 60’s and 70’s did the skills of reinforced concrete become very common, but flat roofs are not able to drain the water effectively. 工法容易/Simple techniques 鐵皮局部修補容易；建築時間快速、組裝、生產便利，儼然成為現代草根性的庶民建築風貌。 Iron sheets are easily to fix, quick constructing time, easy to build and produce, becamethe modern common construction style. 時代流行/Popular by times 二戰後施工技術不佳及傳統建築所需工匠難尋，以致簡便的鐵皮屋暢行崛起，民間順應以頂樓加蓋的形式增設空間。 After World War II, by the poor techniques and the difficulties of finding traditional architects, simple metal houses had risen suddenly, people used the form of “rooftop add-on” to expand their space.

設計元素/Design Elements

在設計上取用鐵皮屋的三個元素為特點─鋼骨結構、鐵皮浪板和鐵皮釘. 鋼骨結構簡化為方管用於大型家具；而花瓶則以圓管表現小件作品的細緻.

The 3 elements which based on metal sheet houses are steel structure, corrugated sheets and iron nails. Steel structure will be simplify as square tubes use in large-scale furniture; vases will be perform as circular pipes to show the refinement of small-scale works.

浪板形狀的選擇/Shape selection of Corrugated Sheets

採用鐵皮文化中，最貼近大眾的圓浪板。相對於需要工程製作的烤漆浪板，俗稱「鉛板」的小圓浪板作為主要發展形式，在坊間建材行或五金行即可輕鬆購得，被普遍應用在修補壁面、屋頂局部缺漏或者搭建簡易農舍與房屋。適用於不同用途，衍伸出繁多的種類，包含屋頂壁面角浪板、屋簷遮雨的採光板。

Use the most common “circular corrugated sheet” in the culture of metal sheets. With respect to the painted corrugated sheet that needed engineering production, using the so called “lead plate” which is the circular corrugated sheet as the main develop, it can be bought in any building materials store or hardware store, it is commonly be used in repairing the walls, parts of the roofs or building simple houses or barns. It can be used in different ways and derive to varieties of things, including the polycarbonate sheet used on the roof and lighting panels.

機能隨形生/Form Follows Function 浪板用於建築通常是作為結構與疏水的功能，而我們則思考同樣的造型，當他縮小不再是建材時，會變成什麼。我們發現鐵皮的凹槽平放時可用於置物，以此為基礎，加上大的弧度則發展成盤子；而彎成U字型時，底部的造型則可以積水，便發展成花器。

Corrugated sheets are mostly used as structural and draining of buildings. We are thinking what will happen if the same mold using are minified not as a material anymore. We found out that the notch of the metal sheet can be used for putting things, based on this, if we enlarge it can become a plate; when bending it into “U” shape, the mold beneath it can stand water then became a vase.

層次/Multi-level

鐵皮在搭建時因為材料的關係，會出現一片疊一片的景象。在屏風上我們用兩種間距的浪板，並讓前後分隔一點距離，做出交疊的感覺。前面的浪板也呈現出建材長度需求的特性，分成兩片疊起來。 Because of the materials, when the corrugated sheets were built, the sheets will overlap with each other. On the screen we use two different spaces of corrugated sheets, to make their distance further and become overlapped. The sheets in the front also showed the characteristic of the material’s length, split into two.

半圓拱屋頂/Arched roof

半圓拱屋頂→橢圓椅子，拱形屋頂也是常見於鐵皮建築工法的方式，可以將負載的重力導引轉換，承受更大的受力，相較平頂式屋頂；鐵皮屋使用的弧形鋼構，反倒成為一種沉穩且優美的力學表現。

Half Arched Roof→Oval Chair is also common in the buildings of corrugated sheets, compared to a flat top roof, it can transfer the loaded gravity and supported larger forces; the arc steel which is used in corrugated roof, it actually became a steadier and more beautiful mechanics.

#industrial design #product design #furniture design #furniture #taiwan #photography #工業設計 #商品 #商品デザイン #家具

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daflangstlairde-art · 9 months ago

Text

A Catalog of Non-Definitive Acts — Chapter 1, 6167 words

Part 3 of DFL's Whumptober 2024

Work Summary:

Love was cauterized out of him young, because that is how you survive. But coming back home with the Splintersons, Leo craved. He craved and he ached and he hungered. Because the Jitsu family loves. They love ardently, fervently, they love in a way Leo has never, ever seen before, they love in a way Leo could never even conceptualize much less dream of. (She’s always taught him, by word but much more by example, to take what he wants and settle for nothing less.)

“Three, two, one–”

“TAA-DAAAAAA!” all the Jitsu siblings yelled in a chorus, Michelangelo doing jazz hands, Donatello setting off some sort of sparkler, April popping confetti, all as Raphael yanked the off-white curtain aside to reveal–

Oh.

...A cell.

Leonardo—well, Leo, he supposed—shouldn't have hoped for anything different. He was new to their family, and he hadn't proved himself yet. It made sense!

“Wooowww!” he hummed, grinning, stepping forward with none of the disappointment he felt, to look around the cell. It was a nice cell, to be fair. Nothing like his old bedroom, but leagues better than Big Mama’s dungeons, eugh. Those things were a violation.

This cell had an actual bed with a bed frame, and a mattress, and bed sheets! Even a pillow. Wow.

And it was all furnished! It didn't have a window—which made sense, they wouldn't trust him to not run off at first opportunity, and they probably wanted to keep an eye on him at least in the beginning. But really? Not even a window with some thick metal bars or something? But it had a ceiling light, and a night light on a nightstand by the bed.

There was also a wardrobe, which implied he’d get to keep some of the outfits he would be given! That’s fun. He was looking forward to that. Well, if they were nice outfits. The Splintersons weren't really the “dressing” type...

Even now, they were just... wearing gloves and socks and sashes and stuff. Only April had the decency to be in her usual fit. Leo himself was dressed decently. Not his favorite, but hey, he was in a rush, and he needed to be comfortable. Just a white button-up of a flowy material, and black slacks—not exactly comfortable wear, but it was better than the fancier stuff, and he hadn't exactly had access to his Nexus fits designed for movement. And he had to literally move, during his “moving out”. He took exactly zero accessories, too.

There was also a desk, so that meant they had some studies planned for him! That could also be fun, maybe... depending on the studies. He usually preferred learning hands-on, not... hunched on a chair, but, he’s excelled at his teachings for years now. He was sure he could keep impressing even more.

And there were empty shelves on the wall. For... he wasn't sure for what. Weapons? Gifts? Probably gifts.

While he was doing his inspection, the Jitsus all had their hands clasped, leaning in, waiting for him to act out his part of the script.

“Soo?? What do you think???” Michelangelo– well, Mikey, since they were brothers now. Officially, that is.

Oohh, that meant Leo was pushing it, if he was being nudged so obviously to reply. Had to play up his reaction even more then, to justify the build-up.

Because he was long, long trained in easily picking out the meanings of people’s words that laid underneath what they said. In this case: Where are your manners? We did this for you, now return the gesture and behave as we want. Be grateful.

He whirled around, a grin on his face (not too wide, so that he doesn't look manic or obviously artificial), and exclaimed “I love it!”

“YAAAYY!”

“WOOOO!”

The other four cheered and wooped, and it threw Leo off for a second. That wasn't the script he was expecting, but, okay! That was a lot of emotion, but he was starting to learn the Jitsus are... kind off... like that. In general.

No wonder Mamá had tricked them so hard in their first meeting. If Leo hadn't interfered– well.

...Oh no. He didn't know where the script went from here. Usually when it was Cell Time, he’d just... be left inside, locked, to endure his punishment or until he did better or something.

But they were just looking at him. They expected something–?

Oh, right! Leo was such an idiot, how could he forget? Years of classes on manners and how to do social interaction, and the moment he’s starting his own life, boom, fail.

“Thank you so much,” he told them, smiling. When receiving gifts, he has well learnt he needs to show his gratitude (even if he didn't like the gifts), and then work hard if he wanted to keep the gifts (even if he didn't want them) and to repay them. Big Mama liked giving gifts. And then taking them away. And then giving them again. Making sure the script stuck with Leo. “It’s wonderful,”

“I installed air conditioning,” Donnie pointed to a sort of vent close to the ceiling. So it was secured, then, if he was pointing it out so obviously. No escape from there either, emphasizing that it wasn't worth it to even try.

Leo, of course, read the meaning under the comment: Look how much effort this is. Your reaction isn't satisfying.

Damn, what was he missing? He didn't know their specific scripts yet, but he was trained for this stuff! He should figure it out quick. For now, he’d just rely on the standard ones.

“Oh, that is great, I love my air conditioned,” Leo said cheekily, and felt a little relief and satisfaction as Mikey giggled and Donnie rolled his eyes and all.

Okay, not perfect, but he’ll figure it out. He will.

He wanted to stay here. He wanted to be with the Jitsus—they were nice, and not fake-nice, actually nice. Even when it was at their detriment.

He’d gone through aaall the trouble of... hm, let's call it moving out, away from Big Mama to join them, because he really did think they could be worth it.

And he was grateful, he was over the moon actually, that they also wanted him here. That they had not only accepted him, but helped him make his elaborate, arduous get-away.

So he would put in the work. Learn their scripts and earn his place until they even allowed him to be in a room and not a cell.

“Bathroom one is down the hall there, and bathroom two is next to it,” Raph pointed.

Oh, was Leo even allowed to go to the bathroom whenever he wanted? Sick!

“Wanna see my lab??” Donnie said, excited in a manic sort of way.

“Of course!” Leo voiced his dialogue, grinning.

“And then we can have dinner all together!!!” Mikey waved his arms around.

And you can show us how well you behave now that you are in our territory.

“Sounds like a plan!” Leo agreed.

“Let’s go!” Donnie declared, whirling around to lead the way.

Leo followed. He couldn't help but note that he had no door. It was just a curtain.

No lock, to keep him inside. But no privacy. It was the final confirmation—this was his trial period. They’d observe how he followed his schedule and behaved and they’d judge whether he was fit to earn a real, permanent place in their home.

He really, really hoped he would.

—

Dinnertime rolled around, and if Leonardo didn't have years of experience, he’d be drained. The last few days were already so close to leaving him a wreck—he had to not only spend weeks planning how to “move out”, the whole time not letting even a single sign that anything is happening; and then he actually had to execute that plan. With all the obstacles that had popped up.

And let's just say—outplaying the biggest criminal boss in the entire Hidden City wasn't easy.

Good thing Leo was probably the one person who could match her. He was raised by her, after all, and she was thorough in teaching him her ways.

But it's fine. Leo could handle a dinner! Even if mealtime was always one of the most taxing slots in his schedule. He had to watch all tableside manners (which he used to really struggle remembering), while also keeping his perfect act.

But he was good at the social events. He was a master at them, at this point. He could handle the underlying meanings of conversation like a professional handling a bomb. He could navigate conversational minefields in his sleep.

...

Even if the Mad Dogz evidently had no interest in, like, any of that.

There was no order to the seating arrangement, because the table was circular, so Leo had no clue who was supposed to be the head. He was currently between Raph and Donnie, April next to the latter, face propped on her hand with her elbow on the table, and there was one seat left for Mikey because he was serving. Right, they didn't have servants, that's... weird to them, apparently.

It smelled really good. Some sort of soup. Fish stew?

Donnie had his feet up and was tapping away on his phone. Raph was already chewing on bread before any set of cutlery was even arranged. April was debating with Mikey... uh, which types of fish prep was better? Wait, was she also a chef?

“Leo! How hungry are you??” Mikey asked in the middle of their argument(?).

Weird way to ask, but Leo knew his lines. Like he said—social events are so his thing.

“Hungry as a turtle,” he said, cheeky. When uncertain, he could always rely on answering with a half-joke—it was just ambiguous enough to be inoffensive and charming, and therefore had a low likelihood of bring incorrect. Even if the lack of commitment and confidence showed, which made him look incapable.

But the Jitsus were highly receptive to his smartass responses so far—and again, Mikey giggled and April snorted.

“So, two ladles? Three?”

No. Leo hadn't eaten nearly all day. He was hungry.

“Perfect,” he said easily.

“We were gonna order pizza to celebrate, but Mikey wanted to do it with a homemade meal!” Raph chimed in, and Leo hummed in acknowledgment.

We're doing even more for you. You’ll have to pay it back.

“Awe, Mikey, that’s so touching,” Leo commented, with the appropriate amount of heartfelt-ness.

Mikey flashed him a grin, and then he started serving the soup.

And, insanely enough, he placed the first bowl in front of Leo–? Instead of... whoever was the head at the table???

...Oohh, right, he was like... an honored guest! Right? Yeah, that made sense. Like a special occasion.

The second bowl went to Raph, who immediately started eating. Third bowl to Donnie, then April, then, at last, Mikey, and he sat himself down as well.

So Raph was the head of the table. Got it.

Well, he was eating, so Leo followed suit.

...Even if... they had only one spoon per person, that's it, not even a napkin. And also... no glasses for water or other beverages–? Except for Donnie, who had a single regular glass cup???

Boy, Leo had a lot to learn. He's barely been here for a few hours and already everything was wildly different than his previous life.

“Man, Leo, can't wait to show you Jupiter Jim–!”

“Oh we really gotta skate together–!”

“Oohhh and we can show you our favorite spots around NYC–!”

Leo nodded along and agreed to their enthusiastic ideas with a smile. Chipped in with a fun little comment or joke when there was a pause.

It really felt like the Mad Dogz might want him here.

Anyway. In the middle of the conversation, April just... got up, opened a cupboard, and poured herself water from the sink. Sat back down, continued like nothing had happened.

Aaaalright theeeen. Soo... there was a level of self-serve...? That– that made sense, Leo supposed.

Right, again, no servants. And they had insisted multiple times that they were all “equals”... he was still trying to understand that.

Still, he didn’t risk it for now. Wouldn’t want to majorly goof it up on the first dinner! That would be humiliating. He’d save that for the thirddinner.

Plus, they were being so welcoming. Making a nice meal just for him. He wouldn't want to be unappreciative and rude.

—

They were only waiting for April and Donnie to finish up their meals, and after that dinner would be–

“So, how ya feelin’ Leo?” Raph asked. “We can have a movie night! Or do you wanna head back to your room and rest? You gotta be pretty tired,”

–oh, dinner was ending now, apparently.

Leo inwardly groaned. Damn, thanks Raph, giving him virtually nothing to figure out the correct response.

He knew what “movie night” meant in concept—they’d mentioned it, during that one conversation about Lou Jitsu and stuff, way back when they'd realized he was the current Battle Nexus champion. It was one of the ways they spent time together, like, bonding and stuff.

I.e. it was their time. It was family time. Wouldn't that be intruding, if he joined? Or would it be rude if he declined the offer, instead? Raph had suggested it. But he’d also offered Leo go to his cell.

...Oohh, or! Or maybe it was a weird way of saying, join us and behave, or do you WANT to go back to your cell? You know, behave or be punished.

All this figuring out, of course, happened in the span of a second, because not replying for long periods of time is awkward and rude. Man, all of this had become like second nature after years of practice—it was wild, being back to having to actually think about it.

“I’d love that,” Leo answered.

“Watching movies or going to your room?” Donnie asked flatly, just looking at his phone, and Leo kept his reaction entirely internal. It felt a little like he’d been shot with a dart.

Nuts. He totally blundered that. Idiot. Get a grip, think. Be better!

Come on, he had to give an actual, clear answer now, commit.

“You guys wanted to show me some movies, right?” he replied indirectly, still grinning, always grinning.

“YEAH!” Mikey yelled, grabbing him by the arm, and wow the little guy was as intense as always with his reactions. It was a Mad Dog Thing™. It still took Leo off-guard, though, especially in tense moments like that. “You will LOVE Jupiter Jim, I JUST know it!!!” Mikey exclaimed.

Leo exhaled unnoticeably. Great, perfect, he’d nailed it. Okay, more social time. He’d be introduced to something they love and to a nigh sacred familial ritual of theirs, he could not mess this up.

...

Easier said than done, because rules and structure at the Jitsu household were only getting more confusing.

In front of their projector, there was a couch and two beanbag chairs at each of its sides. Leo wasn't sure where to sit. Nobody told him.

The three brothers were too busy squabbling over which movie to start with, which was a little funny. April was the only one who sat on the couch like a normal person. Well, sort of like a normal person, considering she kicked off her shoes and brought her feet up, stretched out, instead of just... sitting.

Leo stared at the tussle happening while he tried to figure out his place in this arrangement. The couch? No way. He hadn't reached that level of... acceptance, yet. That'd be invading on their turf. Not his place.

So, one of the beanbags? But which one? There were two, so probably, usually two of the Splintersons would occupy them? Which one belonged to who, however?

...Aaand then April noticed he was still standing and leaned over, patting the spot on the couch next to her.

Okay.

So.

The couch then.

A clear invitation like that overrides previous structure. He was grateful to her as he moved over to the couch and sat. Normally.

The brothers were still arguing which Jupiter Jim movie was the best, and Leo absentmindedly kept track of their conversation, as he did with all conversations. Well. Whenever he could.

Paying attention wasn't... his strongest suit. To this day, he struggled with it, always a tiring fight. But! He really cared about figuring out the Jitsu ways and mastering them, so he paid attention to each specific word use and each preference stated, keeping a log in his mind. Memorizing their personalities. You never know what information could turn out to be useful, and if you're skilled enough, all information can be useful in some way, even minor.

Like, for example, if he was one on one with one of them, and they asked which movie was his favorite, he could say, well, I quite liked– and then say whatever their favorite is. One of his favorite cards to play, because it always worked well. It let him charm them by saying their favorite, while not explicitly marking it as his favorite, so if two opinions clashed, he could say I like both of them and please all parties.

“BOYS!” April finally cut off their arguing. Pretty sure all three had resorted to biting, hah! “Just pick the first one and let's start! We have loads of time, Leo will see them all!” she reasoned with them. Good compromise.

They huffed and grumbled for a moment, but quickly moved on, inserting the first movie.

Everyone sat on the couch. Luckily it was big enough.

Everyone besides Donnie, who sat on the beanbag to the left, pulling his knees in. Actually, Mikey also sat with his legs crossed, right next to him. Okay, so, Leo was slowly learning they had... no care for how you sit. He was still going to sit properly, but, good to know.

Despite the movie not being their chosen favorite, all the Mad Dogz were full of energy as they watched it. Donnie sang the musical numbers and Mikey commented on the set design and Raph reacted to some scenes like he was seeing them for the first time, even though by the way they were able to recite the dialogue, Leo was sure they’d seen it at least a dozen.

And April seemed to be mirroring Leo’s own reaction—watching the goofs do their goofy thing, amused and affectionate. Even if she was far more open about it.

She also seemed to have lower energy like him (she had school today), which made him feel more comfortable with not forcing himself to be... well, like the other three in order to fit in.

It was... nice.

Busy with the movie, there wasn't a whole lot of performing that Leo had to do. He could just observe, and occasionally react with the emotion that a specific scene called for. But he really could just... enjoy the others’ presence, the expectations for his behavior far lower than he’s used to.

He hoped he would get to get used to this now.

—

Leo kept his composure until he was cleared to finally leave to his cell. He kept his composure as he brushed his teeth with a toothbrush they’d gotten him. He kept his composure as Mikey and Raph hugged him for good night, although that had been a close one. It's not that Big Mama was never physically affectionate, it's just... it was just different. He didn't know how or why.

(“And don't hesitate to holler if y’ need anything!” Raph clapped him on the back.

“Will do,” Leo was smiling back, and made a mental note that he should go to Raph if there was a medical emergency. Weird, he would've thought Donnie was better at that stuff, what with his affinity for science stuff.

“Yeah! Even if you just wanna hang out!” Mikey beamed, and that– hm. Leo would decode that later.

“Thank you,” he said simply, and thankfully it was enough for them.)

He kept his composure even when he was finally alone in his cell, because first he had to check for cameras. He found none, which meant they wanted to observe him without him knowing it. Ugh, he always hated that.

Only when he finally got in bed (a bed!), and almost completely covered himself with the blanket, facing the wall, did he let the act slough off of him just a little.

They didn't give him his schedule, which was unpleasant since he didn't know what to expect from tomorrow, but that's alright. Thinking on his feet and adapting are some of his best strengths. They probably didn't have time to quite organize it yet. He had a clock in his new cell (which, again, big step up compared to his old one), but he was not informed of when to wake up.

Would someone come wake him? Or would it be safer to wake up early and just wait until they came to get him for his first slot, whatever it contained? Hh.

Leo sighed soundlessly. All of this was kinda bringing back unpleasant memories from his early childhood. Before he got good. Before he started understanding how the world works.

Back when a cell was his only room, and he didn't have the plush, spacious, beautiful-though-still-locked, real bedroom. Back when he’d go weeks at a time in there, months even, with barely any human contact, except for Big Mama and whoever Big Mama approved that’d work with him on his education and behavior.

He'd been such a... raw child, was the only way he could describe it. He’d expressed his emotions as they were, the moment he felt them. He hadn't understood a lot of things. He’d been desperate for an affection that just doesn't exist and would only ever be given to him as a manipulation tactic. Which always worked shamefully well on his stupid, stupid brain, always starving for even a shred of love, even fake love. Heck, he still sometimes fell for it to this day! That desperate, childish, emotional hope that he could be loved, actually loved, in the way that just doesn't happen.

Except when Raph picks Mikey up in a tight hug and spins him until Mikey laughs. Except when Mikey gets Donnie going on a real good infodump. Except when Donnie spends hours neticulously personalizing a gift for them. Except when they cuddle up and watch movies and share hugs and snacks and I love you’s, again and again and again–

Leo gritted his teeth. Curled into his blanket more.

...He wanted that. He’d learnt it would never happen with Big Mama, but... with them?

Maybe. Just maybe, it could. He was almost actually grateful for all the lessons she’d commanded be branded into his bones, because now, when it mattered, he could prove himself. Could prove just how perfect he was, so perfect it was basically art. And maybe like art, he could be loved.

But for now, he went to sleep, dreaming of things he’d learnt to regard as nonexistent.

—

Okay, Leo was awake for three hours already. He'd managed to wake up at 7 a.m., which he would usually consider late.

He frantically got dressed, luckily his one and only current outfit was simple. He made his bed—ages ago, he'd tried doing it even if he didn't have to, considering the staff usually did; but Big Mama had been pleased with him, so, trying to be a good son and impress, he kept it up. It was a habit now.

He’s checked everywhere for anything out of place, and everything was as it was the night before.

Aaand then nothing happened.

He’d already waited, he’d already done some light exercises (handstand push-ups, some split stretches, the usual). And then he'd done some more waiting and exercises.

Kept checking the clock. With each empty minute, he got more and more worried that he was doing something completely wrong. That he hadn't gotten the memo for what he’s supposed to be doing.

He was doing his best to keep calm, but it was really building up, because he really, really didn't want to mess up on his first real day with the Mad Dogz.

It was as the second hour passed to the third that it occurred to Leo, oh. Right.

Cell.

Of course.

He relaxed once he remembered that. Duh! Of course he’ll be made to stay here! This is how cell time always goes!

It’s like being told to stand in timeout in the corner, but, you know. For a few hours at minimum. A couple years at most, haha. He was deeply familiar with it.

He could never decide which type of punishments were worse. Sure, Cell Time wasn't really... painful, like the other types, or emotionally awful. It wasn't boring like doing piles of paperwork.

But Cell Time was its own kind of awful. It was fine for the first few hours, when Leo could take it as a sort of... break. Rest on the cot, take a nap, enjoy the relative quiet that differentiated it from his otherwise incredibly packed schedule (he hoped the Jitsus would give him his new schedule soon, and he secretly hoped it would be lighter, considering they weren't managing all of the Hidden City’s crime).

He’d get to stretch, his wounds would get to heal more naturally, if he had any leftover from his most recent performance at the Nexus.

But as it all dragged on, it really started dragging on. Despite the sheer amount of energy and stress that all social situations brought, Leo was a social kinda guy. He liked mastering social situations, he liked single-handedly manipulating the flow of it, he liked being charming. He liked talking to people, being in their presence. Most of all when it was someone... how could he say this... plain. People who weren't as educated as he was on manners and manipulation and whatnot. People who just said what they thought, who had sincere dreams and experiences instead of a carefully crafted life script.

It fascinated him. He liked studying them. He liked being around them. Maybe they felt less threatening.

So being deprived of all contact for hours upon hours? It... it reminded him of a lonely and locked off childhood. As the boredom and isolation started settling in during Cell Time, he often wanted the worse punishments. Cell Time was way too good at wearing him down, because at least with pain, he could feel strong and active as he endured it.

Cell Time always continued until Leo cracked and started saying exactly what was wanted of him to say. And especially in the past, that took a while.

But!

That wasn't happening yet, for now. Well. He was close to it. He really really did want the Jitsus to like him, so he was sitting at the desk’s chair, fervently trying to analyze all interactions he's had with them—before and after getting away from Big Mama—for the right things to say. Should he apologize? What for? Did he make a mistake? Or did they want him to ask politely? Beg? Promise to be better?

He had to be careful, because whenever he got Cell Time and said the wrong thing, Big Mama would just chuckle or sigh, and say oh, turtely-boo in that condescending tone, it is more than obvious you have learned nothing, my dear, and are simply saying anything to get out, hm?

Which... he was, because he wasn't always sure what got him in trouble. He had to figure it out. But he couldn't show that he didn't know, that was the problem.

He got better at it over time. He was smart and adaptable like that.

But he got smart with Big Mama’s rules. He was playing by different rules now. And it was like he was eight all over again, crying about how sorry he was and how he would be better, face pressed to the cold door. Because he didn't realize he was in timeout because of all the crying (it was loud and ugly and improper, and it broadcasted your weakness and emotions to everybody).

He hated being reminded of all that. It was embarrassing, and it was tying his stomach in knots. But if he figured it out once, he could figure it out again. He will figure it out.

So when there was a knock at– not his door, the wall beside the curtain, Leo shot to his feet. He appreciated the signal to let him know he should compose himself, that was nice.

He smoothed out his shirt and schooled his face into the same easy grin, standing to attention. Hiding away all the tension, because dammit, he still hadn't figured it out, and time was up.

“Heeeyyy Leeeooo–” Mikey’s hand pulled the curtain aside slowly, and then he paused and blinked with an “Oh! ...You're awake!”

He was surprised? Didn't they see it on the cameras? ...Hm, no, the monitors had been in Donnie’s lab, he was probably the one who handled security.

“Ready to face the day,” Leo said easily.

“Nice!” the praise eased him a little. Okay, he'd done one thing right. He made a note to always be awake when they came to get him.

“Good morning!” Raph also poked his head in, pulling the curtain further to the side, and oh, Donnie was also there. All of them looked to be in a good mood, so, that's good. And they weren't really... good, at hiding their emotions, not like him and Big Mama.

“Good morning,” Leo returned.

“We have gifts for you!” Donnie declared.

“Yeah! Like... welcoming gifts!” Mikey grinned.

Wow, really? More gifts? Jeez, they were really hamming up the love bombing. Leo would have to watch himself, make sure he didn't get lost in it. He reminded himself it would be pulled away the moment he messed up or they wanted something.

“Oh? That's so sweet of you, you didn't have to,” Leo said, humble.

“‘Course we did! You're our brother!” Raph stated proudly, and something inside Leo twisted and lurched. An ache, a hunger, something grasping for that title—brother. Brother to them meant love and belonging and support and care and a myriad of other things that Leo has only ever gotten the fake, cheap version of.

He wanted it so badly.

And Raph said it so easily.

“That’s...” Leo said quietly, a little in awe, and then blinked, and caught himself slipping, and recomposed his act. Get it together, Leonardo. You can't blunder it now. “That means a lot,” nuts, too sincere, too genuine, reign it back in or it will be used against you–

“I drew us all!!!” Mikey was striding forward first, handing Leo a... drawing. Of the Jitsu family, all three turtles and April and their sensei Splinter, smiling and together.

All four turtles. Because Leo was there, too.

...First gift and he was already breaking. Damn, perhaps he underestimated them. Perhaps they were master manipulators, and they were actually so good Leo hadn't even realized it.

Emotions were something he’d been conditioned for years to bury and hide and lock away, burn whenever possible. And yet here he was. Feeling... feeling... he wasn't even sure what. Just an overpowering emotion as he stared at the drawing, with him included.

...There was... one detail that stuck out to him. Because, well, April and Splinter are a human and a rat, of course they’d be a little different to the rest, though they remained just as loved and just as accepted.

But Leo was... the only turtle with a bare face. As always, Raph had his red bandana and Donnie had his purple one and Mikey had his orange one, and only Leo’s face was empty, save for his markings of course. He was grinning, neutrally smug, the way he’d been taught and the way he’d practiced in the mirror. To always look in control. Casual, easy, unbothered, unshakeable, intelligent, coy even.

All the others were smiling in joy or amusement, some of them with grins so big their teeth showed.

Leo wanted to be part of that so, so badly.

...Oh no, he’d lingered on it way too long, no no, dammit, now they knew it had affected him, oh no–

He wrenched his gaze away from the drawing and again recomposed himself, thinking up a response on the fly–

“And this is Boss Bearhug!” Raph declared, placing a... stuffed turtle plush in his arms. It was big enough to be called a tiny pillow. "'Cause he gives great hugs!"

Leo couldn't help but notice the red markings on its face. That looked exactly like his own.

Like... like the plushie was personally customized for him.

“And I,” Donnie spoke up before Leo could process that emotional hit, because Donnie can never be too behind, hah, “thought I’d give you a more practical gift, to hopefully aid in the integration within semi-human society, because while I know you weren't entirely shut off from humans, you were mostly distanced from their—and our—way of casual living, and phones are–” he started rambling.

“It’s blue,” Leo whispered, staring at the smartphone in astonishment, and Donnie paused.

“Huh?” he blinked, and fuck. Fuck. Leo has apparently completely lost his filter, huh? He's messing everything up, he had to get ahold of himself, he was going to ruin all of this– “Well, yes–? I– based it off the color of your mystic powers,” Donnie bulldozed ahead, unaware of Leo’s internal nervous breakdown (as he should be).

When he was little, Big Mama had taken one look at his face and immediately began building his brand around the color red. And Leo quickly caught on and began always claiming his favorite color was red, so when his red clothes or red make-up or red toys would get taken away as punishments, he could only act like it had an effect on him.

But the truth is... well. When that whole fiasco at Laberinto de Muerte happened, and he was forced to save those dum-dums from “saving” him (he’d been training), things got a bit... heated, haha. And when that was the moment that his mystic ability decided to unlock itself after a lifetime of being a disappointing dud?

Well. Secretly, Leo had been pleased. Because the portal was blue.

Blue was his real favorite color. Like the pattern on his shell! But, well, red sold more. Red was aggression and passion and blood and attention and confidence, or, at least that’s what Big Mama and her consultants and Leo’s marketing tutor claimed. It was a great color for his stage presence in the Nexus.

Blue was always something he kept close to his heart.

The phone... case, he was pretty sure it was called. It was a light blue. It wasn't Leo’s favorite blue but it was blue. How did Donnie know to make it blue?

“...I... I can swap it for, um, rrrred, if you don't like it...?” Donnie spoke up again, and was he hesitant?

No! Leo did not want that!

Okay, Leonardo, time to grab the reins of the conversation again.

“Donnie, I adore it,” Leo said, smiling, hands too busy with the gifts to gesture with them but that's alright. Donnie’s eyes still widened and he still grinned with those sparkles in his eyes. “In fact, I love all of them, really,” he turned to the other two as well, and they were also smiling.

“We wanted you to have something for your room!!!!” Mikey was flapping his hands in what Leo had learned was excitement.

“And to not be alone at night!” Raph added.

“And to feel less out of place,” Donnie nodded along. “And to have an easy, convenient way to communicate with us even when we’re not around, and to entertain yourself, and to learn about the world–” he once again picked up rambling about the greatness of phones.

Leo nodded along, turning around to place the plushie on the shelves, the drawing on his nightstand, and... uh... where was he supposed to keep a phone–? A pocket? Yikes, he didn't have pockets on these pants–

Wow. This cell... was really looking a bit weird. Like... a hybrid between a cell and a room. There was no window like the big-though-locked one of his old room, no plush carpeting, no fancy wallpaper, the bed was small and didn't have all the fluff and frill he was used to. Leo wondered if they'd keep the same furniture or give him new when he earned his own room here.

He could hear the Mad Dogz losing their minds with excitement behind him over his enjoyment of the gifts, even though they were trying to be inconspicuous. It made his grin even more real, amused. Dang. These idiots are so charming. They're open like children. It was fascinating. It was endearing. He politely made no mention of it, because he didn't want them to stop.

“Oh!!!” Donnie exclaimed. “Wait! I can show you how it works!” he waved his hands.

So, bizarrely enough, that's what they did over breakfast. No manners, no behavior, no script, no rules—leaning over plates and talking with their mouth full, showing Leo how to use the phone.

Insane. Leo was kinda loving it.

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