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alinathinkstoomuch · 1 month ago

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DENIM DAY

pairing: aaron hotchner x fake!fiancee!reader summary: its denim day at work and you opt for the shortest miniskirt you own, but not before snapping a pic and sending it to your boyfriend who is not a happy bunny. warnings | an: suggestive, lots of teasing, allusions to a footjob LOL, hotch puts on tights for reader, hotch is whipped we all say in unison, yall this was going to go in a complete smutfest direction but i decided to behave... for now, established relationship word count: 2.3k

✧ masterlist

Hotch should’ve been relieved to not be out on a field case. To know that he’d be getting out of the office at a decent time, that there wouldn’t be extra forms or reports that needed to be completed because he was behind his desk all day. It should’ve been a pleasant reprieve – except that it wasn’t. Not in the slightest.

Not since he stupidly opened the picture you sent him.

Apparently, it was Denim Day at your office, and instead of opting for a pair of jeans like any reasonable person might, you’d decided on a skirt – if he could even call it that. He wasn’t sure there was enough fabric to qualify.

He wished, with everything in him, that your workplace had a strict dress code. But even if it did, it wouldn’t apply to you. You were in charge, after all. Hell, Denim Day was probably your idea.

And he vaguely remembered you mentioning shoots scheduled all week, which meant people. Lots of them. Models, makeup artists, photographers – all of them walking around while you were dressed in that ridiculously short skirt. All of them seeing what he was still trying to unsee.

He managed to make it through the rest of the morning with some semblance of focus, though his attention span had taken a noticeable hit. He read the same report three times, signed a form he wasn’t supposed to, and snapped at Anderson for no real reason – though in his defence, Anderson had knocked over his coffee.

By the time noon rolled around, his jaw was tight, his tie felt too constricting, and he’d definitely spent more time than necessary staring at the clock. He was just about to stand when Rossi strolled into his office, holding a printed menu like he was offering a peace treaty.

“We’re ordering from that little Italian place you like. You want your usual?”

Hotch shook his head, already reaching for his coat. “No, actually. I’m stepping out for lunch.”

Rossi’s brows lifted. “Stepping out? You?”

“Yes, Rossi. I do occasionally eat outside the building.”

“Of course you do,” Rossi said, clearly humouring him. Then came the smirk – that smirk. “Seeing your fiancée?”

Hotch exhaled slowly, fingers pausing on the lapel of his jacket. “She’s not my fiancée.”

“Eh. Technicalities.”

Hotch didn’t respond, mostly because the longer he stood there, the more obvious it became that yes – he was going to see you. That the whole morning had been a slow, agonising burn of frustration and that if he didn’t get in his car and head to your office soon, he might actually lose his mind.

By the time he slid behind the wheel of his SUV, Hotch had managed to convince himself – for exactly three blocks – that this wasn’t a bad idea. He told himself he was just going to check in, maybe have a quick lunch. A normal, professional, not-at-all unhinged visit to the woman who had sent him a photo in a skirt that had no business being worn in public.

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

This was ridiculous.

You’d done this on purpose. He knew it. You’d chosen that skirt knowing exactly what it would do to him, knowing how tightly wound he was, how much of your games he could barely tolerate when you were in sweatpants, let alone when you looked like that.

He tried to talk himself down, told himself that he should just turn around and go back to the office. Eat the damn Italian food. But as he pulled into the parking lot outside your building, he was already unbuckling his seatbelt.

And getting out of the car anyway.

The one small mercy was that your office was on the ground floor – no need for stairs. Not that anyone needed to take the stairs, not with perfectly functioning elevators in the building. But of course, you were the exception.

He’d learned the hard way that you sometimes insisted on taking the stairs “to get your steps in.” You’d even lectured him about it once, accusing him of being “alarmingly sedentary for someone who tackles serial killers for a living.”

He really, really hoped today wasn’t one of those days.

The front doors slid open as he stepped inside, the cool blast of air conditioning doing nothing to steady him. The office was its usual burst chaos. Racks of clothing being wheeled around, someone shouting about a missing pair of heels and a latte order gone wrong, but all of it blurred in the background as he spotted Bella at her desk near the entrance.

She looked up from her laptop, blinked once, and then grinned. “Agent Hotchner, didn’t expect to see you here today.”

He nodded, keeping his expression neutral. “Is she in?”

Bella didn’t answer right away. She tilted her head slightly, as if weighing how much trouble she wanted to cause. “She’s in her office,” she revealed, casually reaching for her phone. “Door’s closed, but I’m sure she’ll make an exception for you.”

Hotch ignored the insinuation. Or tried to. “Thanks.”

He started down the hallway, taking long strides to your door. When he reached the frosted matte glass, he could make out the faint outline of your silhouette behind it.

He raised a hand and knocked twice.

“Come in,” you called out.

So he did just that.

And did he get there just in time.

You were bent over your desk, heels planted, back arched slightly as you read whatever was in front of you. At the sound of the door slamming shut behind him, you straightened immediately, nearly jumping out of your heels.

“Aaron!” you gasped, hand flying to your chest as you turned around. “You scared me.”

“Good.”

You circled behind your desk, all faux professionalism. “Did we have something in the calendar? Did I forget lunch?”

“You forgot pants.”

You laughed, pulling the measuring tape from around your neck and tossing it aside. “I’ll have you know I’m absolutely wearing pants. Under this one-of-a-kind denim skirt, thank you very much.”

He didn’t respond, just stared.

“Is that why you came all the way over here? To conduct a pants investigation? I’ll let you guess the colour if you’re so curious.”

“They’re red. And I got a full view of them the moment I walked in.”

You grinned, entirely unbothered, grabbing a stack of images from your desk before striding over to the whiteboard. “And?” you tossed over your shoulder. “Do you like them?”

He liked not seeing them anywhere but your apartment. Or his.

“You’re very quiet today, Hotch Hotchner. Something on your mind?” You pinned one photo up, then glanced back at him. “Have you had enough water?” you added sweetly. “And no – coffee doesn’t count.”

You pinned another image to the board, like you hadn’t just called him Hotch Hotchner and asked about his hydration levels while wearing a skirt that should not be allowed in a professional setting.

“Water,” he echoed finally. “That’s what we’re talking about now?”

“Well, we could talk about the real reason you’re here… if you’d prefer.”

His eyes moved down to your skirt and then back you to your face – your smug face because you knew exactly what you were doing. “I came here to see if you’d like to grab lunch.”

You turned back to the board, smoothing an image with a soft gradient of colours. "Lunch," you repeated thoughtfully. "Hmm. That sounds suspiciously wholesome for someone who's been undressing me with his eyes for the last five minutes."

Hotch sighed through his nose. "It's just lunch."

You glanced over your shoulder, eyes sparkling. "Right. Just lunch. And what if I said yes?"

"Then we go," he said, folding his arms. "I open the door for you. You roll your eyes at me. You make fun of my order. We eat."

"And then?"

“And then I bring you back here.”

You turned around slowly, lips quirking. "All very gentlemanly of you, Agent Hotchner.” You let a breath out, dramatic as ever. “Alright, I’ll bite. You can take me to lunch as long as I'm back before two. I have a very important meeting with Milan."

His eyes tracked you as you moved to a drawer on the far side of the room.

And bent over - again.

His jaw tightened, his hands slipping into his pockets, like that would somehow stop his mind from going straight to hell. You were still talking, something about calendar holds and fabric samples, but he couldn't hear a single word.

Because that skirt? It should be classified as a weapon.

Then you turned, holding out a small bundle of black fabric like it was nothing. "Could you give me a hand?"

He eyed it warily, already suspicious. Tights.

Of course it was tights.

Still, he took them without hesitation, because you could've handed him a live grenade with that expression, and he would've thanked you for it.

"My hands are super dry and the fabric always snags when I put them on. Honestly, it's a sensory nightmare. Could you do the honours?"

"Your hands are super dry?" he repeated, just as you reached for his jacket and started tugging him towards you, walking backwards until you perched on the edge of your desk, like it was the most reasonable place in the world to stage a wardrobe adjustment.

"Yes, it's gross, really. Skin's peeling off and everything. I'd usually slather them in hand cream, but l've been touching samples all day and I don't want to leave greasy fingerprints all over couture, so now I'm suffering."

That sounded almost half logical. Right up until you kicked off your heels, lifted one leg, and rested your foot just shy of his crotch. He tensed just as you pressed your heel the slightest bit closer. “Pretty please? You know I have delicate hands.”

He should've walked away. Should've told you to put them on yourself. Hell, he could've offered to go grab lunch and save you the trouble entirely. But what did he do instead? He lifted the tights – the ones made of delicately-thin fabric that somehow felt heavier than his gun – and began to bunch them up in his hands.

His eyes dropped to your legs, still resting against him like an invitation. All he had to do was take your ankle, lift it just a little higher, and he'd have a full view of the red lace panties he already couldn't stop thinking about.

If Rossi ever found out what he’d gotten himself into the one time he decided to step out for lunch, Hotch would never hear the end of it.

Before you could get him off with nothing but the arch of your foot, he forced himself to move, sliding the tights up your leg. “This is absurd.”

“You’re doing great,” you encouraged delightfully. “Though, should I be worried that you’re good at this?”

He didn’t look up. “Good at what?”

“Doing what you’re told.”

He could’ve argued, told you you’re wrong, but his mother raised him to be an honest man. You said things – ridiculous, flirty, completely inappropriate things – and he listened. You smiled at him, and suddenly, everything seemed negotiable. Boundaries, logic, professionalism, the whole lot of it.

Because it was you.

Because you could ask him to kneel in a room full of fire and he'd probably say yes, ma'am on the way down.

“I’m banning you from sending me photos while I’m at work,” he muttered, fingers dragging the fabric slowly up your calf.

“Oh yeah?”

His grip tightened a fraction. Not enough to hurt, but just enough to make a point. “You think I’m kidding?”

“I think,” you said, drawing the word out like it was your favourite accessory, right alongside lip-gloss and claw clips. “I should’ve sent you the one I took of me from behind.”

He froze. Just for a second. Then his hands moved again, dragging the tights up your thigh, and even he was a little surprised he hadn't torn them yet. You were smiling again, clearly enjoying your second-nature ability to make him weak in his fragile knees.

He shouldn't be taking you to lunch.

He wanted to – wanted to open the door for you, order your favourite, sit across the table while you made snide, flirty remarks and shamelessly stole the croutons off his salad like they were yours by right.

But the other part of him, the one you were clearly trying to provoke, had no interest in lunch at all. That side wanted to take you home and teach you a filthy, thorough lesson that had nothing to do with menus or linen napkins...and everything to do with that damn attitude that skirt had given you.

But you were at work. He was due back at work soon. And he figured there was no better way to get back at you – to beat you at your own game – than to make you wait. Make you squirm. Make you regret every single syllable that had left your pretty mouth since he walked in and caught you bent over, ass on display like it wasn't completely deliberate. Like he hadn't seen the phone in your hand. Like he hadn't noticed Bella reach for hers just before he walked in.

Because if you thought you were good at teasing, you had no idea what it looked like when he decided to play.

So, instead of acting on the thousand things running through his head, he let his touch soften, fingers smoothing out the tights and moving on to the other leg like his thoughts weren't indecent and laser-focused on exactly what he planned to do the second he had you alone.

He stepped back once he was finished. "I'll be at the front when you're ready.”

You blinked, lips parted like you were waiting for him to do anything but walk away.

And that was the best part. He didn't even look back as he adjusted his tie and headed for the door, fully aware of the way your eyes followed him.

Now?

You were the one with your composure slipping.

And when he decided you'd waited long enough... he was going to make sure you remembered every second of it.

tags - @fandomscombine @dohmeti @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue @kiwriteswords

nanny!reader with a choking kink coming up next to an alina-blog near you!🌟

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds #ssa aaron hotchner #hotch #Spotify #mine🌟

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flwrkid14 · 2 months ago

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Could I request your Tim Doesn't Hold Grudges with a Dead Tired Twist, cuase just imagine he doesn't hold grudges against anyone who wrongs him, but the moment you say something bad about his boyfriend-

Danny does it too but itn reverse, he grudges against everyoen who ever hurt his boyfriend.

And the batfam don't understand why Tim's boyfriend hates them all witha burnign passion

thanks for the ask! and I can totally do that, their dynamic is everything to me! <3

Tim Drake does not hold grudges.

It's not that he forgets—oh, no, Tim has perfect memory when it comes to betrayals, slights, and near-death experiences. He could give you a full PowerPoint presentation on every time someone has wronged him, complete with timestamps and psychological profiles. But does he hold it against someone? Never.

The League of Assassins kidnaps him and tries to brainwash him? Eh, just another Tuesday. The Justice League ignores his warnings about a world-ending threat? Annoying, but whatever, Young Justice have managed on their own. Bruce replaces him without a word? Disappointing, but he’ll manage. Damian tries to murder him again? Tim still sets aside a plate for him at family dinners.

Tim is a firm believer in moving on. He takes his hits, internalizes them, and keeps going. No point in holding onto anger. No point in letting grudges slow him down. If someone screws him over, well—he probably expected it anyway. That’s just how life works, right?

But the moment you insult Danny?

All bets are off.

It’s not even an explosive anger—it’s worse. It’s cold. Calculated. Petty. You say Danny’s a bad influence? Suddenly, every embarrassing piece of information about you is mysteriously public knowledge. You doubt Danny’s skills? Weird, your bank accounts have been flagged for fraud (don’t worry, it’s temporary… probably). You try to slight Danny in any way? Hope you enjoy Gotham’s worst coffee because Tim has blacklisted you from every decent café in the city.

And then there’s Danny, who holds grudges for Tim, and he holds them with the fury of a thousand dying stars. If you so much as look at Tim wrong, Danny will remember it forever. You made Tim cry in third grade? Cool. Danny’s counting down for the day karma comes knocking. You ever doubted Tim’s capabilities? That’s fine—Danny’s just going to glare daggers at you until you feel physically uncomfortable in your own skin.

Now enter the batfamily, who are so confused because Tim is still as calm and forgiving as ever, but his boyfriend? His boyfriend hates them.

Damian: "Why does your boyfriend keep glaring at me?" Tim: "I have no idea." Danny: "I have a few ideas."

Jason: "I swear your boyfriend wants me dead." Tim: "I mean… you did shoot me." Danny: "Oh, don’t downplay it—HE PUT A BULLET IN YOUR CHEST."

Dick: "I don’t get it, I was trying to be friendly." Danny: "Remember all the times you made Tim cry? Yeah, well I do."

Bruce, exhausted: "What do I have to do for your boyfriend to stop glaring at me?" Danny: "You exist, that's already beyond unforgivable."

Meanwhile, Tim thinks this is all hilarious and has no intention of stopping Danny. He just sips his coffee and enjoys the show (and basks in all of Danny's love, obviously).

#thanks for the ask <3 #tim drake #danny fenton #brain dead #dead tired #dc x dp #batfam

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sgiandubh · 3 months ago

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Prophetic

Every single time things look hard to decipher or farcical (and this is one of those farcical times), I remember a long post by @hardblazesong, dealing with BTS aspects and the intricacies of this cesspool of a fandom. I am yet to read something more clear and more bravely stated than the things she wrote almost eight years (!) ago, even if I do not necessarily agree with everything. Especially as far as SC's sexuality is considered and examined, for example - but that is secondary, to me.

Every word in this quoted passage was confirmed by what happened next, for example. And then, some more, if at all possible:

This is exactly what happened, rinse and repeat to oblivion. 'No one above D level status', with the odd lap dancer/Hooters waitress thrown in, for variety. Gross? Effective on the short term perhaps, to quench thirsty/insistent/too close to the real thing rumors and found tidbits, yet damn penalizing on the long run. MPC's dwindling subscription figures are testimony to it, as are the mediocre projects coming his way. And now he sorely needs a seriously good one to keep his rep at a decent level. You see, the entire kilt-cladded, warrior daddy imagery/fantasy is also quietly wearing off, as OL is coming to its merciful end. But believe it or not, S will survive even this life-changing experiment with fame. The key question here is 'how' and I have no definitive answer to it. But I am confident, and this Soroptimist approach of mine will always be my guilty pleasure, as far as S is concerned. Perhaps the only one, since the guy won't ever make me turn my head for him in the street. Not even sorry about that. But as I have already told you, I do like an underdog and know how to spot them, when I see one.

Now, as far as C is concerned, the 'low key thing' turned into the perfectly artificial farce we all know about. It is my sincere belief at least 85% of her Taliban Stan crowd is simply paying lip service to what they chose to believe and are constantly being reminded of by their trolling Sopranos. So much so, in fact, that it all reeks rather of Pollyannaism than critical thinking, no matter how brutal or self-assured they may sound. And at this point in time, with zero communication on the topic and C who apparently DGAF about narrative continuity when it comes to this, it's only fair to say more oil is being quietly, constantly thrown onto those embers of suspicion and legitimate, logical doubt.

As for going political, we all saw what happened with S's Gaza comment, didn't we? Case in point to never cross obvious red lines and allow your own emotions get in a mix you cannot control and which must not have been addressed, to start with. Especially when you are, above anything else, a media product manufactured on purpose for reaching the widest potential audience. MAGA Mommies crowd included.

Also, this:

Again, this is exactly what happened, and consistently so. Proof of this are the multiple times I had to excuse myself to powder my nose in the middle of a Zoom call or meeting, whenever my cellphone was blinking with concerned messages about this or that insignificant turn of an apparently endless, boring and disingenuous AF narrative. Shippers are worried and potentially even hurt every single time a Fitness Harem representative shows up on the roster. S knows that - how could he not, he is part and parcel of it? Trolls know that: in fact, this is their bread and butter in this fandom. And the reason this happens is an unnecessarily cruel and by now pathetic bout of schizophrenic trivia deliberately being thrown in, from time to time, for... eh... for reasons. Whether this is for 'protection' (complete quiet would be way more decent and effective, I think) or diversion, or remaining relevant, or even shits and giggles is entirely secondary, one more time. These allow to address all the factions of this fandom at once, using what are by now some lazy, well-tried and accessible plot devices (SM twisting reality, cheap pap walks, timeline innuendos, etc). Again, this is wrong and harmful, in the long run. It is refusing to see the forest for the trees and completely ignore the fact this is building the wrong persona and the wrong brand. Back to that sore need for a really good project I have mentioned before and own reasoning nicely tied in, thank you.

As for how SC feel about us, shippers, I suppose things are clear. I don't think they like us, and to be blunt, how could they? Mistakes have been repeatedly made, especially when it comes to projecting going completely, tastelessly out of control, the hyper sexualization and objectivation of both S and C (naively dirty fanfic, anyone? come on, we all read it!) and the liberties some took with decency, as far as C is particularly concerned. And by this, I don't mean stalking - that is pushing Covfefe Pics really too far and being a perfect hypocrite about it, when we know the entire faction was demanding proof, on many tones & in many ways and kept on pressuring for something along those lines to happen. To me, however, the most toxic part of it was definitely Jess' unfortunate drooling all over someone else's love story. It definitely had an impact and it was definitely been used as such, until it wasn't. The rest of all that obsessive approach are just spin-offs, but the bad seeds were gleefully planted there and then.

Before landing here, I carefully weighed in my options. And I chose to be primarily interested in business and legal paperwork simply because it so happened that an irritated reaction while on an Athens taxi ride prompted my arrival here. Then I realized it was the only way to bring something new to an already stalling body of public lore and keep it simple and real. What I did discover and what the trolls across the street chose to dismiss as trash is, in fact, evidence enough of the chasm that exists between what people are being served and supposed to gobble up, no questions asked, and a reality that certainly is more nuanced. This is what really makes me tick and this is why I am still here, while there are so many more useful and enjoyable ways to keep myself busy.

Rest assured, though: I am not going anywhere, even if from time to time life and a very strenuous job take precedence. I hope you can understand this. In the meanwhile, you have been so many witty, kind and warm people coming along my path, that I would feel like betraying you (and myself!) if I went away. And no, I have never felt more sure about SC than probably now, even if this 'SC' doesn't necessarily coincide with your own version of that saga.

Newbies can read the entire @hardblazesong's post here: https://www.tumblr.com/hardblazesong/678440162606350336/the-time-has-come-shipsters-to-write-a-lengthy?source=share

Thank you for reading this very long comment, summing up all the thoughts that nagged me while I was simultaneously translating and slaloming between my two mother tongues, while in Tunis. I am rather good at compartmentalization, you see. This post is also a clumsy homage of sorts to all the brilliant, brave and bold women, past and present, of The Shire, who have tried and managed to see beyond the thick veil of deceit this entire #shitshow is. The fact so many of us, across so many cultures and personal circumstances, saw the same damn thing and questioned it with integrity and wit, should be arresting evidence there are more things.

PS: I think we can all agree on the fact the Biggest Troll in this fandom is 'Erself, the Flip-Flop Blue Nailpolish Goddess. But that's a different story.

#fandom #shitshow #PR #business #marketing

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yakuza-emulation · 9 months ago

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Smile for the picture, boys!

(Click on the photo for better quality)

All featuring my versions of the tormentors! All of whom are “existing” characters that I repurposed because I thought it would be fun, and why not give some light to more of my favoured Fazbear Frights characters. (I might get flack for some of these from those who do like the characters, but I love them too!)

For more on that, check under the cut! :D

Foxy Bully, also known as Michael Afton

The tried and true FNAF guy, ‘twas his brother killed and his father who did the killing. Overall, it’s a decent way to view the story, and doesn’t make my head explode (like goddamn robot children). Furthermore, the Security Logbook has a section where you’re tasked remember as a child “what prizes would you want to see behind the prize counter”, and Mike draws himself with a mullet, tank-top, shorts, and bracelets. So that’s good enough for me lol

Bonnie Bully, also known as Oscar Avila

The first of the tormentors who is kinda out there! There is the popular theory that he is Jeremy Fitzgerald, considering FNAF’s obsession with Jeremy’s and bunny paraphernalia; but Oscar also has a relation to bunnies (Plushtrap chaser)! It kinda works, and the skin tone itself was inspired by @namedoggo ‘s version of Oscar (which is super cool, please check it out!)

I also like to think he is Cassie’s father, because it kinda checks out, but I’m deciding to be oblivious to other current revelations within the community.

Freddy Bully, aka Alec Renner

Speaking of revelations, this character is full of them! Freddy bully is such a hot topic because there are so many people he can be (Jeremy Fitzgerald, Mr. Renner (Tales from the Pizzaplex), Oswald’s Dad), but I thought Alec would be a cool idea because of the whole Lonely Freddy Bodyswap occurrence and that he canonically favours Yarg Foxy. Furthermore, this was kinda tail-ended by the Ao3 fic, “I am Machine” by Hideaway_In_The_Imagination_World or @hideawaysplace on Tumblr. Wherein which Alec was friends with Oscar in the past.

I kinda also tied in Mr. Renner with Alec’s last name (because he doesn’t have one. It made me frustrated for a while), because in Tales from the Pizzaplex, the elementary principal is described as having a Freddy mask and his eyes leak oil? (I don’t actually have the tales books yet, I’m waiting until the box set releases until I get it. So all my info on this guy is limited to the several fandom wikis)

I don’t really want to tie in Oswald’s father, but Alec does have a sister, so Hazel could have the mask? Or Oswald’s dad could’ve just won it as a prize, not everyone who has a mask has to be the bully themself. (Which is ironic for Mr. Renner, but eh.))

Chica Bully, aka Sam O’Neil

Probably the most out there, but this character is practically never talked about with fan theories (for gods sake, literally everyone else in the squad has been theorized to be Jeremy Fitzgerald at some point (including fucking Michael at one point because of his multiple aliases), EXCEPT FOR HIM..?). Furthermore, it was kinda difficult to pick a good character for him, as I wanted to make it so the tormentors have some relation to the character they had the mask of. I really enjoyed Blackbird when I read it, and when I read it the first time, I thought Sam admitted to actually being a bully years before the story itself (he just got back at bullies, but the point still stands). Regardless, why not :)

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jtargaryen18 · 2 months ago

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The Arrangement ~ Chapter 3 Preview

Hoping to post this one this week...

The betting shop was unusually quiet when an unfamiliar man walked in. He wasn't hesitant, like many who weren't regulars there, but he wasn't charging in like a fool either. His approach was measured, like he knew he didn’t belong but had decided to walk in anyway. He couldn’t have been more than twenty. Slim build, shoulders squared in a patched coat that had seen too many winters. The young man's eyes were sharp, locked on Arthur, who leaned back behind the counter, watching him like this was all a bit of theatre.

"You lost something, lad?" Arthur asked, grinning around his cigarette.

The young man’s jaw tensed. His voice was tight and controlled, but steady. “My sister.”

Arthur’s smile faded—not with guilt, but with interest.

“Ah. That one.” He stood, stretching like he’d been waiting all morning for something to liven the place up. “Bit late for all that, eh?”

The younger man didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. Tommy watched from the back office doorway, caught the way his hand hovered near the inside of his coat. He was armed. Brave but stupid.

Tommy stepped out then, made his presence known.

Arthur lit up. “This one’s yours, brother. Came to collect what’s left.”

Tommy said nothing at first, just studied their visitor. Young. Angry. Focused. But the lad wasn't reckless. He wasn’t here to posture, the way John did more and more these days. No, he was here because someone he loved was gone, and nobody was giving him answers.

"Name?" Tommy asked quietly.

"Rory." The lad squared his shoulders, meeting Tommy's gaze. "Rory Flynn."

Tommy nodded. The surname matched the girl’s—his girl’s—file he’d already had drawn up. But now, standing in front of him, the boy wasn’t just a name on paper. He had her eyes—same shape, same quiet fire behind them. Tommy recognized the sharp, observant way he took everything in, saying very little but missing nothing.

But there was something else. Something familiar that had nothing to do with his sister.

Tommy tilted his head, studying him a beat longer. "Who's your father?" he asked. "Where is he?"

Rory’s jaw shifted, eyes flickering down for just a moment. "He died in 1916. In France."

Their father had died in the war then. Tommy stilled. “Name?”

"Malachy Flynn."

There it was. Tommy’s expression didn’t change, but inside, recognition tightened his chest. He remembered Malachy Flynn. A good man. Brave. Older than him by at least a decade. They hadn’t served side by side—Flynn was in earlier, already a sergeant when Tommy was still green. But his name had meant something. He’d heard it in the trenches.

Flynn died a hero, pulling two young men out of a crater after a shelling. The man could’ve saved himself but chose not to.

Tommy’s voice was lower when he finally spoke again. “I knew your father.” The boy blinked in surprise. Tommy nodded slowly. “He was a good man.”

In that moment, the air between them shifted—not with threat, but with something almost like understanding. Tommy realized that he boy wasn’t just brave. He was his father’s son.

"My sister’s been gone two days," Rory said in a tight voice, cutting to the chase. "She was supposed to be… delivered to your brother." A pause. “No one’s seen her since.”

Arthur gave a low whistle, but Tommy raised a hand. Quiet. Let him talk.

"Our mother’s worried sick," Rory added, his expression cracking just enough to show the truth of it. “She doesn’t know who to ask, who to trust. So I came here.”

Tommy stepped closer, arms loosely crossed. “And your stepfather?”

The boy's jaw clenched hard. Too hard. He didn't answer.

That was answer enough. Tommy watched him try to control his emotions and mostly suceeding. The kid wasn’t just worried—he was plotting something. Something small and stupid, born of pride and pain no doubt. A pistol hidden in the lining of that patched coat or maybe a cheap folding knife meant for a throat that had made a deal no decent man would’ve dared. Tommy knew that look. Young men with nothing left to lose, trying to make the world right with a single, violent act. As much as it was foolish, he respected it.

“You plan on killing him?” Tommy asked bluntly.

Rory’s eyes flicked up. Something flashed there before they were guarded again. “He deserves worse.”

"For what?"

"For wanting my sister out of his house," Rory said tightly. "She's a temptation to him, see. He wants her more than our mother."

Tommy didn’t argue, filed that bit of information away. This wasn’t a boy bluffing. This was a brother who cared more about his sister than himself. And that meant something. The young man had more honor than many of the grown men Tommy had dealt with this week.

He exchanged a glance with Arthur, who shrugged, then grinned. “You’ve got your hands full now, don’t you?”

On the one hand, the boy let him know that, so far, his plan was working. No one outside the Shelby family knew where she was. Not the local blokes who’d heard about the wager and were sniffing around for gossip. Not the old women who watched from behind their curtains on Gray Street, waiting for her to come walking back home in shame.

She’d disappeared.

And in Small Heath, disappearing meant one of two things: death or Shelby. The right people were wondering. The wrong people were staying quiet. That was exactly what Tommy wanted. She wasn’t just gone—she was untouchable. Hidden. Held. And the longer she stayed out of sight, the louder the message would ring when Tommy was ready to speak it.

On the other hand? The situation was too delicate, too exposed, to continue it there. The last thing Tommy needed was a scene in the middle of the betting shop. Too many eyes and ears. Word about the girl couldn’t get out—not yet.

Tommy straightened, smoothing the front of his waistcoat with a slow, practiced motion. “Walk with me,” he said, already turning toward the hallway that led to the back office.

Rory didn’t move. “I came to speak to Arthur.”

Stopping mid-step and turning back, Tommy eyed him with a glint of steel behind his eyes. “You’re speaking to the man in charge.”

Arthur let out a small chuckle behind the counter, clearly enjoying the moment. Mostly because he was still pissed at Tommy for the entire affair. “He is, y’know. Always has been.”

Rory’s shoulders squared slightly, but Tommy saw the hesitation. He didn’t trust this. Didn’t like being led somewhere less public. Smart.

But Tommy didn’t ask twice. He met the boy’s eyes, voice low and final. “If you want answers about your sister, you’ll come with me.”

There was a beat of silence, thick with challenge. Rory’s hand hovered near his coat again, and for a second Tommy wondered if the lad would actually try to be brave enough to draw on him. But then—a slow nod. Rory stepped forward, lips pressed into a grim line, eyes burning with controlled fury.

Tommy turned without another word, the sound of Rory’s boots following close behind. And just like that, the game moved behind closed doors—where Tommy always played best.

Once the door was closed and it was just the two of them in the back office, Tommy voice was calm, final. “She’s safe.”

#The Arrangement #Thomas Shelby #Tommy Shelby #Cillian Murphy #Tommy Shelby x Reader #Tommy Shelby x You

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callsign-rogueone · 2 months ago

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sword and scale

Nikolai Lantsov x mermaid!reader

words: 3.3k

🏷️: kinda a little mermaid au, kinda not, brief description of reader being held captive, and the threat of being skinned / their scales being removed but it doesn’t happen! and the gang killing some people, but nothing more severe than canon. I’m still in the middle of the show, but I finished the trilogy so I feel like I have a decent handle on him, idk, canon divergent because I wanted to have the whole gang here, Zoya does Not like you (if I continue this, I promise she’ll get her redemption!), soft shy Nik, me making shit up about mermaids, reader is kinda innocent and doesn’t know much about humanity, but Nik is gentle and doesn’t take advantage of her, just one (1) forehead kiss and some closeness, nothing more, I don’t remember anything about the layout of the Volkovny, okay that’s it bye ilysm! back to our irregularly-scheduled fourth wing content after this, I promise <3

“Rise and shine, little fishie. You have a visitor upstairs.”

You don’t deign to respond, still facing away from them. Whoever it is that’s here to see you is undoubtedly just as vile as the rest of the crew, and you have no interest in entertaining them.

“She dead?”

“She can’t be. I watered her an hour ago.”

“She’s a fish, not a plant.”

The cell unlocks, the wood floor creaking under someone’s footsteps — and then they nudge you with their boot, seeing you flinch. “Told you.”

You don’t struggle as they scrape you off the hard floor, their fingers digging into your already-bruised skin. You need to save what little energy you have left if you’re going to be able to attempt an escape. If you can manage to get loose from their grip, you can throw yourself overboard back into the water.

They finally get you up to the deck, and you ake a moment to drink it in; the fresh air, the smell of the ocean and the feeling of sun on your face… Freedom.

Now.

You thrash in their hold, trying to slip free, but it’s useless — they’re much stronger than you to begin with, and you’re weakened, sick from spending the last three days out of the water.

And then you see him.

Nikolai Lantsov is standing fifty feet away, along with half a dozen other humans you’ve never seen before. He spots you, and his jaw clenches, an anger you’ve never seen before spreading across his face, deepening the crease between his brows.

The man who’d tossed you in that cell smiles as he speaks, and you can hear the smug satisfaction in his voice. “You don’t just want to sell her. You’re attached to her, and this is some kind of rescue mission. Guess we should have filleted her the day we caught her, eh boys?”

Your heart is pounding in your chest, panic starting to rise in your throat. You know they were after your tail, so some wealthy merchant could hang it on his wall, or rip off your scales to sell for their medicinal properties, but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying now that it’s actually happening.

And even if they don’t kill you, only cut you up and throw you back into the deep, your scales won’t grow back — not that many, and not for years. You’ll die without them, with nothing to keep the cold water from freezing your blood. Assuming you don’t bleed out first. They probably won’t stitch you back up after skinning you.

“Let her go, and there won’t be any trouble,” one of Nikolai’s friends tries.

“If you think I’m going to toss a billion Kruge back into the ocean, you’re really an idiot.”

“Then you’ll die a poor man.”

Your captors are the first to hit the floor, the rest of Nikolai’s friends moving in synchrony to take down the rest of the crew while he runs straight to you.

He drops to his knees, his eyes now level with yours, and you turn your head away in shame — you wish he wasn’t here to see you like this, battered and bruised, your skin and scales turning sickly colors now that you’ve been out of the ocean for days, with only the occasional bucket of filthy water dumped over your head to keep you alive.

He reaches up with one hand, cradling your bruised cheek. His skin is warm against yours, as it always has been, that same softness in his eyes as he looks at you.

“Hi, pearl,” he whispers.

You manage a smile. “Hi, Niki.”

“Let’s get you out of here.”

He moves to gather you into his arms, his chest pressed to yours for a split second — then there’s a sharp pain in your waist, and a flash of light…

You crumple, unable to keep yourself upright, but he holds you tightly, taking off his jacket and using it to cover you, passing you to a woman in a red coat. “Get her back to the Volkovny.”

—————

The woman is kind, looking at you with sincere pity in her eyes as she guides you along, supporting your weight as you make your first few stumbling steps, getting you back to the other ship and taking you inside, guiding you to sit on a chair.

“… Can you understand me?”

You hadn’t realized she was speaking to you. You blink, finding your answer. “Yes. Nikolai Lantsov taught me your language.”

Her eyebrows raise, but they fall quickly. “So you know who he is, then.”

“Yes. He is a ship captain. We have been friends for many years, but I don’t see him often.”

She hums in response, turning back and continuing to dig through a large trunk, making a sound of satisfaction as she pulls out some clothing.

She pauses suddenly, turning back to you. “I’m Genya, by the way.”

You offer her a weak smile, giving her your name as well. “Nice to meet you, Genya.”

She hands you a shirt and pants, helping you keep your balance as you put them on. The feeling of the fabric against your skin is unusual, but it helps fight the intense chill you’ve felt for the last few days that you’ve spent out of the water.

Her presence is calming, steady, helping warm you up and dry your hair, fading the cuts and bruises you’d sustained from the crew’s rough handling.

You finally get a good look at yourself in the small mirror she passes you, your reflection clear without ripples from the water.

Your gills are gone, your teeth less sharp… You bring a hand up to brush the hair back from your ears, which are now rounded, not fanned… your fingers, the hollow space between them, and the bluntness of your nails…

You’re… human.

There’s a knock on the doorframe. “Crew meeting, or something,” says an awkward-looking man in a purple coat like hers.

“We’ll be up in a minute, David.”

He just nods, avoiding eye contact with either of you.

Genya gives you a final look, humming in approval. “Ready?”

You nod, taking her outstretched hands and rising to your… feet. Your legs shake, but not enough to knock you over as you take your first steps.

She perches on the arm of a chair next to David, leaving you to sit beside Nikolai.

“A siren dressed as a tidemaker,” one of the women mutters. “How utterly ironic.”

The words are out of your mouth and into the air faster than you can think of the consequences they may have. “Sirens are vile creatures who have nothing better to do than sink ships. I’m a Nereid. Or a mermaid, as you like to call us.”

Genya smiles into her sleeve at the stunned look on her crewmate’s face, as does the woman by her side, who wears another blue coat, but with glittering gold patterns on the collar.

You give them a thankful glance, before looking back to Nikolai. He still looks… It’s hard to describe it. Pensive, maybe. Trying, like all of you, to make sense of this situation. But there’s guilt underneath that. Shame.

“Okay, if nobody else is gonna ask... what just happened?” the largest man you’ve ever seen asks candidly. “And how?”

Another man speaks up. “You haven’t heard the fairy tales? A man who truly loves a mermaid and looks at her without possession in his heart can turn her human, as long as she loves him back.”

The two of you blink at each other slowly.

He loves you? You’d quietly accepted that you could never be together, pushed down the feelings, but you’d never expected that he returned them.

“And any man who cuts the skin of a mermaid is doomed to a life without happiness. That’s why the other captain didn’t want to do it himself.”

Your head is still spinning. “Hold on. How did you find me, anyway?”

“Your echoes,” he answers. “After they captured you, I could hear you crying.”

Your lips part, stunned. “You can hear echoes? I didn’t think any humans could.”

“I’ve always been able to. Even across the true sea, I can find where you are.”

“You’re a Pair,” the other kind woman says softly, elaborating when she sees the confusion on Nikolai’s face. “Stop me if I’m wrong, but from what I’ve read about Merpeople, they mate for life, and in most cases they find that the one they’ve chosen is like a soulmate — they are bonded physically, with their powers being stronger together. And they are always able to find each other, no matter how far the waves have taken them.”

Your eyes are still locked with Nikolai’s as you speak, unable to keep the shake from your voice. “Yes. All of that is correct.”

The sour woman rolls her eyes. “The second prince of Ravka is soulmates with a fish.”

You ignore the slight, focusing on the other words. “Prince?” you ask, tilting your head.

“Oh, for Saint’s Sake,” she huffs, speaking slowly, like one might to a child. “He’s royalty. The son of our King.”

“They don’t have such a concept,” the blue-and-gold woman says. “They are all held equal by their deities.”

She looks even more visibly disgusted at the notion.

“Alright,” the giant says, standing, and changing the subject. “That was… informative. Who wants dinner?”

The crew leave one by one or two by two, leaving just you and Nikolai alone on the small couch.

“Please say something,” you ask softly, keeping your hands in your lap — he might not want to be touched right now.

“I think… I think I felt your pain.”

You give him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. They weren’t particularly gentle.”

“Don’t apologize,” he says quietly. “I just… as soon as I felt it, I realized what was happening, and all I could think about was you, and finding my way to you… killing whoever it was that dared harm you.”

You hadn’t seen what fate befell the rest of the crew after he’d passed you off to Genya. “Did you?”

He sounds ashamed. “I did.”

“I would have done the same. Every time I saw you, you had some new scar, some injury…” you shake your head. “It tore me up inside.”

There’s a moment of quiet, then some whispering, and then one of the men steps back into the room. “I’m really sorry if this is offensive, but… do your people eat fish?”

You laugh, a sparkling sound that has him laughing nervously as well. “Yes, we do. It is most of what we eat. Thank you for asking.”

He nods, but doesn’t say anything, and doesn’t make a move to leave, either.

You have a thousand questions for all of them, but it’s probably best not to ask when that woman is in the room. And he seems kind, like his mate. He won’t laugh at you. “Do none of you have family names?”

“We do. Mine is Oretsev. Malyen Oretzev. But everybody calls me Mal.”

You nod.

“They don’t do nicknames, or first names only like we do,” Nikolai explains to Mal. “A family name is equally important as the one you were given by your elders.”

“The people like your mate, who wear these,” you say carefully, touching your collar, “they have left their elders, to go learn their… magic?”

“Most of them, yes. And they call it a kefta.”

“Kefta,” you repeat. “I like it. It’s very warm. Thank you, Malyen Oretzev. You are a credit to your kind.”

His cheeks turn pink, the way you’ve seen Nikolai’s do before — the way yours would turn purple. “Of course. And don’t worry about Zoya. She’s like that with everyone.”

He turns, headed back to the rest of the crew. You sigh, pulling your legs up toward your chest like you would your tail, and shifting in your seat. You still don’t feel quite right in any position, but the exhaustion is catching up with you, and you’ve given up on trying to be comfortable.

Nikolai moves a bit closer, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. He’s warm, and the muscle is a good pillow. “I’ve never seen your hair dry,” he says idly, touching the ends.

“I haven't, either.”

You must have fallen asleep, because moments later he’s stirring you gently, patting your arm. “You should eat. I’m sure they weren’t feeding you well.”

“They didn’t at all,” you murmur.

There’s another flicker of anger in his eyes, but it passes quickly.

He takes a spot at the end of the table, with you to his right.

Your eyes catch on the water glass in front of you. You’re too tempted not to try it, flexing your fingers in the air and pulling up — and a stream of water rises to greet you, winding around your hand.

“It still works,” you breathe. There’s still some part of you left deep inside, a glimmer of your magic and the being you once were.

“So she truly is a tidemaker,” Genya says with a smug look in Zoya’s direction as she settles down with her plate.

“To call myself the maker of the tides would be an insult to our goddess, who gave us the moon to move the waters so we might live in them. But I think it is a clever name.”

David finally speaks. “How do you communicate under the water?”

“Echoes, mostly. And we have a… hand language, for when the water is clear, and someone is close enough to see you.”

“Fascinating. Do you think a human could learn to do that? The echoes?”

“None that I’ve met so far,” you answer with an affectionate glance at Nikolai. “And it’s not for lack of trying.”

“How did you two meet, anyway?” Alina asks.

“She rescued me from a shipwreck, years ago.”

The giant nods. “He washed up on the same beach we did, talking about how a mermaid saved him, and he became obsessed with finding her again. We all thought he was losing his marbles, until he showed us that.”

He nods toward Nikolai, and you turn your head to see a glimmer of blue in his hand.

You had cut your hip quite badly on a scrap of metal from the wreckage, and lost several scales, one of which you’d pressed against a deep wound on his shoulder, sealing the skin.

It’s faded over time, its magic drained from you using it to heal his wounds, but it still shines in the low light of the room.

“It’s worth millions, by the way, but he never even thought about selling it.”

Nikolai slips the thin chain over his head, shifting your hair onto one of your shoulders so that he can clasp it behind your neck.

“Thank you,” you say softly, reaching for his hand. He gives yours a gentle squeeze, his thumb stroking over the joints affectionately.

The meal passes quietly, with no more remarks from Zoya or questions from anyone. It’s Mal and David’s turn to wash the dishes, and they stay behind while everyone else gets to bed early, exhausted from the events of the day.

You aren’t sure where to go.

“We don’t have an extra bunk, and I’m a little worried about leaving you and Zoya alone in a room together,” Nikolai begins, looking a little pink. “You can take my bed, and I’ll sleep in the office.”

“Of course not,” you say with a shake of your head. “I will take the… office, or we can share.”

“Alright, then.” He leads you down a narrow hallway, guiding you down the few steps to a nicely furnished room.

Another moment of awkwardness.

“Could you…” you begin, suddenly shy, “Genya put a dozen pins in my hair, and I’m still not very good with… these.”

You cast another glance down at your hands, the blunt nails and separated fingers that you’ve laced together in front of you. The feeling of your bones pressing together as you clasp them is oddly comforting.

“Of course.”

He motions for you to sit in the sole chair in the room, deftly finding the hidden metal pins and removing them slowly, taking care not to pull your hair.

How had you ever doubted that he loved you?

It’s suddenly all too much, your eyes welling with tears. The droplets slipping down your cheeks feel like the salty ocean water, but warmer. You raise the sleeve of your coat — kefta — to wipe them away.

You’ve never disliked the feeling of water on your face. This must be a new, human instinct.

The thought only has more tears pouring down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a whisper. “I’m so sorry that they did all of that to you, and that I changed you, forever. I’ll spend the rest of our days making it up to you. I’ll do everything I can to protect you, to make you feel comfortable…”

He looks like he might cry himself.

You lay your hand over his that rests on your shoulder. “Don’t apologize. If you hadn’t come to my rescue, I’d be dead on the bottom of the ocean and never get to see you again. And now I can truly be with the man I love, and see the rest of the world that he’s told me about so many times.”

He gives you a sad smile, squeezing your hand.

“And thank you, for everything else. Answering my thousand questions about humans, teaching me the language… and never seeing me as a monster.”

“I could never see you as anything but the woman I love,” he says softly. “You’ve always been beautiful to me, with fangs or without them.”

“You are a poet at heart, Nikolai Lantsov. And by far my favorite human.”

His cheeks warm, but he’s still quick to come up with a smart response. “And how many humans have you met?”

There’s that laugh again, the sound he loves more than anything. “If you count those terrible men, then quite a few. But none as kindhearted, as sharp, or as handsome as you.”

He gives you a sly smile. “You found me handsome, even when we were different species?”

It’s your turn to flush. “Of course I did. We’re not so different, after all.”

He lays the final pin on the table, and you’re almost a little disappointed that he’s done. “Bathe, and get some sleep,” he encourages softly, cradling your cheek in a soft hand, and laying a kiss to your forehead before he slips away.

It’s easy enough to remove the clothing, to take the few short steps to the tub of warm water, but you can’t bring yourself to climb into it. You stand there a moment, until the human instinct to scrub away the dirty feeling of being held captive in that ship takes over.

One foot, then the other. The warm water greets you happily, lapping against your skin. It’s not quite the same as the ocean, but it’s a comfort, soothing the ache in your new joints and muscles that you’ve never used as you lower yourself to sit on the bottom.

You tip your head back against the edge, closing your eyes with a soft sigh. At least you’ll have baths for the rest of your human life, to remind you of home — nothing will ever feel as comfortable as being in water.

You lay there for a while, until the water starts to cool, and you sit up to take the soap and cloth he’d left you to wash your skin.

Nikolai must feel your panic, because he’s through the door in seconds, his hand on the hilt of his sword and his eyes scanning the darkened room for any sign of a threat — and then they settle on something blue, shimmering in the low light.

Your tail.

#shadow and bone #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lantsov #sturmhond #shadow and bone fanfiction #mine #niki and his mermaid

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uracutieraka · 3 months ago

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JJK and the obnoxiously nice new girl!

Chapter one

guide

The next morning you woke up to a soft knock at your bedroom door, grumbling as you rolled out of bed and walk over, opening it to reveal your teacher.

You stare up at him for a moment before registering that he wasn't Kugisaki.

"Oh! Gojo! Hi!"

"Y/n, it's 10 a.m."

Your face grows red as you begin apologizing, stops you by telling you it's fine.

"The principal isn't mad, which is surprising because he's always mad when I'm even 2 minutes late, but hurry up and get ready, he still needs to meet with you."

You nod and apologize, shutting your door and rushing around to get ready. After 30 minutes you come out, holding your toothbrush. You jump when you see Gojo sat at the small table, munching away on a cookie.

"Geez, I forgot how long it took girls to get ready."

You chuckle and excuse yourself to go brush your teeth.

Once you remerge from the bathroom you tell him to lead the way.

The walk is decent, 15 minutes. Which meant 15 minutes of the man asking you awfully personal question.

"So which parent is it that you're running from, or is it both?"

You stare at the back of his head as you two continue walking.

"Well, both of them I guess." He turns around to face you and you just shrug your shoulders.

"So," You chirp. "Can you see through that blindfold?"

"Eh, my cursed energy helps me see."

You hum and slowly nod your head, unsure of what he could mean.

"Well, this is where we part ways, just in those doors and down the corridor, you'll find him." You look ahead at the giant doors, with intricate art work and carvings in the wood.

"How long do you think this took to make? It's so beautiful..." Your voice is barely above a whisper as your fingers gently trace the art.

Gojo looks at you and hums quizzically.

"Hmm, never thought about it."

You nod as you begin your way to the doors, opening them and walking in. You admire the beauty of the building. The complexity of the wood workings and paintings.

"Y/n L/n?" A voice booms throughout the echo-y hall. Looking forward your eyes take a moment to adjust to the candle lit room. Once they do an older man sits at the end of it, making what seems to be stuffed animals?

"Hi! That's me!" A giant smile is on your face as you wave and rush forward to be in front of him.

He looks up at you and you shiver at his cold glare.

"Uhm, what's that you're making? It's super cute!"

He continues his cold stare and your smile slowly falters and you stand up straighter, clearing your throat and messing with the hem of your short skirt.

"Your parents called yesterday."

You now look down at your feet.

"What did they want?"

He sighs and pinches his nose bridge, pushing his sun glasses up.

"Look, I don't know your full story but I know why you want to be a sorcerer. And that's good enough for me. Just call your parents, they seemed worried."

You chortle and now he looks back at you.

"I promise they are not worried. If they call again just ignore it."

When you finally look back to him he has a sad look in his eyes, but he just goes back to sewing his stuffed animal.

"Well, if that's how you feel..."

"I'm sorry. I just, ugh! They're so stupid! I came here for a reason." You now plop down on the floor in front of him and tuck your legs to your side. He looks at you in surprise. Your hand reaches out and your fingers touch the soft fabric of the stuffed animals surrounding him.

"What's up with all these anyways?"

He doesn't remember the last time someone treated him so normally.

"They're used for my cursed energy."

"Nice." You don't question him further, instead you just watch as he keeps sewing. He continues going about his normal process as you silently watch. After a few minutes you speak up again.

"Sewing is such an interesting art form."

"You think sewing is an art form?"

You tilt your head and furrow your brows.

"You don't?" You stand up and brush your skirt down, reaching a hand out to him after.

"It was really nice to meet you sir." He stands and takes your hand, shaking it.

"You as well."

You smile at him and turn, skipping off towards the door.

Once they shut, he laughs to himself.

"Sewing. As a form of art?" He says to no one but himself.

Once you exit the building you have to take a moment to adjust to the bright sun light. Once you do, you quickly spot the second years. You run down the steps and call out for Panda. He turns around and waves you over.

"L/n! Hey!"

"O-M-G! Hey! So funny running into you guys here!" You giggle at your own joke and look behind him to see the girl who you learned was Maki Zenin, and the boy Inumaki.

"Well, I mean we are at school." The girl grunts out, scowl on her face.

You slightly pout but it quickly falls from your face as you look over to the other boy.

"Inumaki! Just the person I was looking for!," You take a few steps towards him and lean up close to his face, you raise your arm up and make a hook with your index finger, pulling down the fabric covering his face. "Wow! Are those marks from your curse? They're so cool!"

He jumps back a bit, but nods his head slowly up and down, fixing his uniform to cover his face again.

"Hey, what the hell is your issue? You can't just go up and mess with people like that?" You look back over at the girl with big eyes, curious as to why she's being so rude.

"My issue? I didn't think I had one." You smile at her, though the way your voice is slightly strained sends shivers down the three's spines.

"Well..." She starts but is cut short by Inumaki's hand on her shoulder. She looks over at him and he nods 'no' to her.

"Tuna Mayo." He points at you.

You smile at him and wrap your arm with his, pulling him forward.

"I want to talk to you! I have so many questions about your communication style.," You turn back around to the other two second years. "Mind if I steal him for a bit?" Maki goes to say something but Panda cuts her off.

"Not at all!"

They watch as you two walk off, your arm still wrapped around Inumaki's as you chat his ear off.

Once the two of you are out of ear shot Maki turns towards Panda.

"What the hell?" She says.

"What? Inumaki needs to make other friends than just us!"

The two of them begin to bicker back and forth about the situation.

“So, Inumaki, do you only use ramen ingredients to communicate?”

You two are sat down in a shaded area of the courtyard. You have a small note pad in one of your hands and a pen in the other. Eyes trained on him.

Inumaki doesn't think he's ever had this much attention in his life, like ever. He can feel the heat rush up his neck all the way up to the tips of his ears.

He nods along as you ask questions.

"So, earlier, you said 'tuna mayo' and pointed to me... so does that mean you wanted me to keep talking?" He nods his head.

"Salmon."

You watch his movements closely, quickly scribbling something in your notes. He takes notice of the way your tongue slightly pokes out while you write. Once you finish you look back up at him.

"So is salmon your version of 'yes' and 'no'?"

He nods again, giving you a thumbs up.

After a few more questions he motions for you to pass him the note pad.

He flips the page and writes something down, when he's done he passes it back over to you.

'If it's easier we could always just text?'

You look back up at him, a small smile on your face.

"We can totally do that! But I still want to learn!"

You fish your phone out of your bag and fumble around with it for a moment. When you pass it to him, the contact screen is already up.

He notices the way you already put his name in.

Inu-mahi-mahi 𓆛

He chuckles and puts his number in. He hands you back your phone and you pout at your screen for a moment.

"Okay, you need to pull this down for a minute," You stick your tongue out again and you lean forward, reaching for the zipper on his shirt. You zip it down, just enough so the fabric falls away from his face. You smile and lift your phone back up. "smile, its for your contact photo!" You peek around your phone screen to give him a toothy grin.

He hesitates and goes to zip it back up, shaking his head back and forth. You reach out and grab his wrist.

"Inumaki, just smile."

He lets out a deep breath and gives you a small smile. He hears as the shutter clicks and once you drop your phone down he zips his uniform back up all the way.

"Look! So cutie!" You shove the phone in his face and he blushes at the absurdity of it all. You hadn't even been here a full 24 hours and you were already making yourself an important part of his life.

"L/n? Is that you?" You look across the field to see Kugisaki and the other two first year boys.

"Hey! Kugisaki! It's meeeee!," You giggle a bit and look back over to the older boy. "Well, I guess that's my cue!" You stand up and put a hand out for him. He grabs it and you dramatically grunt as you pull him up, though you didn't do much. He bows slightly to you as you excuse yourself.

"Ill text you later!" You wave and smile at him over your shoulder before you run off towards your fellow classmates.

"Why were you with Inumaki?" Yuji questions as you approach the group.

"I want to learn how to effectively communicate with him!" You make a show of standing up extra straight and pointing your finger up in the air, with closed eyes and a posh accent.

"Mhm, sureeee, that's it." You, Yuji, and Kugisaki quickly turn your head towards the dark haired boy.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kugisaki questions.

"I don't know." He shrugs and turns around, walking away.

"Hey! Wait!" You now begin to chase after him, the other two closely following.

He turns around for a brief moment before quickening his pace, until he was in a full sprint to get away from the three of you.

"Get away from me!" He shouts, still running, trying to escape but its to no avail. Yuji lunges out effectively tackling him. He falls with a groan.

You now stand over them and extend your hand out to Megumi. He takes it and pulls himself up, glaring over at the other boy. He goes to take his hand away but you grip it tighter.

"Nuh-uh, tell me what you meant."

He tugs once more but sighs and rolls his eyes before giving in.

"You definitely think he's cute." your face grows hot at his words.

"What?! I do not!" You pout, but now he has you thinking about it. He is in fact cute.

"Mhm, sureee. I totally believe that."

"Okay!," You drop your voice low and lean up to his ear. "He's kind of cute!"

Megumi pulls away and just chuckles at you.

"What did you just tell him?" Yuji whines out.

"Nothing!" You reply, voice sweet with a closed eyed smile to pair with it.

"Liar!" He says.

You just giggle and stick your tongue out at him, hiding behind the tall dark haired boy. Yuji goes to lunge out for you but you shriek and duck farther behind Megumi.

Yuji tries to go around but you run around the other side, effectively getting a head start to run away from him. He's quick to follow.

The other two watch as you both disappear around a corner.

"So, what did she tell you."

Megumi turns to look over at the short haired girl who's now standing next to him.

"She totally thinks Inumaki is cute."

"Knew it."

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flower-boi16 · 9 months ago

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I Don’t Really Like How Season 3 Handles Hunter’s Trauma of Losing FlapJack

Thanks to Them shows the grand finale of Hunter’s whole character arc throughout the series; he’s healed from his past trauma and abuse he underwent from Belos, and finally stood up to Belos cuts him out from his life. It’s a solid ending to his arc…until you remember that Hunter now has some brand new trauma of his abuser coming back, being possessed by that abuser, and then having that abuser kill his best friend while possessing him meaning that he was essentially forced to watch himself kill his best friend.

And this…never gets addressed. Ok, that’s a bit of a lie, For the Future tries to resolve this but execution is…eh. Hunter spends a lot of For the Future grieving over what happened with FlapJack, with him being more dead set to catch up to Belos then ever. The resolution that the episode tries to give to this is Hunter gaining new powers that he got due to FlapJack’s sacrifice.

Now, I do like what this represents, as it represents that FlapJack will always be with Hunter deep down even when he’s gone, it’s pretty sweet. But….at the same time, it’s also still fairly rushed and doesn’t really fully resolves or addresses Hunter’s grief. We never get to see Hunter come to terms with what happened, his grief still goes unaddressed.

Watching and Dreaming further continues to gloss over Hunter’s grief over what happened and at that point it doesn’t really get much of a resolution, it’s, again, entirely glossed over and not really resolved. The show effectively added in new trauma for Hunter at the last minute in the final season when it didn’t have much time to really address it, so now we’re supposed to just assume that Hunter came to terms with it off screen which doesn’t feel particularly satisfying to me.

I don’t think FlapJack’s death was pointless and it did serve a purpose, but it seemed that writers didn’t have much time to address Hunter’s grief and the resolution we got felt…very underwhelming. Season 3’s ending for Hunter was decent overall but when it came to this aspect I think they kinda fumbled the bag.

#the owl house #toh #toh hunter #toh critical #toh criticism #toh analysis #me criticizing a show I like #cuz I like engaging in critical analysis for things I like or don’t like

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holnnetd · 5 months ago

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Catfisher!König Part 1

Warning: Suggestive content, mentions of pornography, misogyny, low-key incel behaviour, please be 18 or older if you read this!

Basically college loser!König cat fishing reader for some nudes.

In my defence, I was reading something about a cat shifter, but with my dyslexic ass brain I read catfish, and now it can't get out of my head.

This is the first part, explaining the context a little, to get into the juicy part go to part 3 (Nah I lied to you, part 3 has no smut, I changed my mind it will come in part 4)😊.

This is only fiction, please remember.

Teen!König is an absolute nerd, going to collage just because mommy said that would make her proud. She would only agree to let him join the army after he graduates, of course. Does it matter that he's an adult and doesn't have to listen to his mother's wishes? Absolutely not, he's a mamas boy. And if she wishes he goes to collage, he will.

But sadly for him, school is merciless. In military you have some kind of camaraderie, but collage? Hah, nom..

If you think people grow out of being assholes, you are only half right.

Do guys make fun of him because he's socially awkward? No, they do make fun of him for never getting laid though. It's not like he has a reason to be celibate, no religious background or not any other reason.

He just gets no cunt. Easy. Fucking virgin.

But he does have friends! Or that's what they call themselves!

Do they make demeaning comments about him and straight up just make fun of him in every way possible? Yeah, but that's how boys are. Right?

Not that it matters, he doesn't care about a group of boys bullying him. It's the girls in his classes.

Fuck, those are merciless. Or so he says. Of course a pretty girl with decent grades only gets it through sleeping, he says, fully believing his weird incel like comment.

And every time a conventionally attractive girl looks at him wrong, he's on and about how he doesn't need a lady in his life. He's better off on his own. Yeah König, go sleep with your mom when you're at it.

Tsk.

And there is you. Yes, long introduction, I know. I had to build up the climax (haha)

A gorgeous, overly feminine, hot, confident woman. Ugh, he gets hard when you walk by and he gets a whiff of that smell.

And his bestest of asshole fuckboy friends, seem to take a notice in his little crush, not that he would say it out loud, but he looks like he jacked off to you at least thrice this week.

"Eh, you like?" That one loudest guy ask, jabbing his elbow into Königs side as their gases follows your ass.

König grunts out a noise, probably confirmation.

"Fucking sucks you're ugly." He snickers and that ass kissing fucker behind him laughs too, trying to get closer to that guy's fucking asshole. Tsk.

König rolls his eyes, giving him a dismissive side eye. "Don't you have a girlfriend to fuck, Rody? I'm sure she has been complaining about your bed performance to her friends lately." He scoffs back.

Rody chuckles and shakes his head. "Don't matter. She doesn't know what's fucking good for her." He hums and that boot licker agrees, making some degenerate comment.

Both König and Rody shoot him an annoyed look. No one stands this guy but he refuses to leave their side. A thorn dressed as a leaf, really.

"But if you're that desperate to get something from her, just text her from a fake account. I assure you she won't answer the profile you're stalking her with." He huffs and König scoffs in annoyance. "Why are you so invested in my account activity, Bruder?"

But later that night, in a desperate attempt to get off he started browsing for some good old porn, hoping to get his sickly horny mind off of your body, but not one of those overly erotic videos seems to be getting him off.

Browsing through the categories didn't do shit to him. Solo female? Too old, too old, too plastic, too small toy, too loud and this one doesn't look of age, nope. Absolutely not.

That's not it.

But staring at those he did get an idea, getting crafty after his super friendly asshole friend inspired him.

..., Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months ago

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Diabolical 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, extreme profanity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Billy Butcher

Summary: your neighbours has some strange friends.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The reverberation of copper ripples through the air. You nearly slip under the water as you jolt. You grip the edges of the tub and sit up. Another crash thunders and you scowl. Your peace is shattered.

Candles, music, a book, and a steaming bath. It's a perfect night. Or it was.

You wait and listen. Silence. You let yourself back and reach for the novel on your bath table. Another egregious cacophony has you splashing yourself with water.

You growl and slide the table out of the way as you stand. You grab your towel as water slakes off of you. You pay no mind to the mess that puddles below each step as the thrashing continues.

You storm across the apartment, sliding dangerously on the hardwood, and you put your eye to the peephole. The man grins, as if he can see you and shakes the box in his hands. The metal echoes again.

How dare he? It's almost nine in the evening! You tear open the door, your hand clasped around the knot of your towel, and you snarl.

"Must you make so much noise?"

He cackles at you as he hugs the box of cymbals and bells. "Eh, I'm just doin' good ole Hughie a favour. He's been talkin' 'bout getting into drumming so's I say Hughie, I know a guy. Can get you everything you need."

"I don't...care." You bluster. "Should you even have those in a box? There are bags meant for that."

"Who cares? You just bang on the things anyhow. Well, then," he turns to the door behind him. "Seems like my pal isn't in." He drops the box and the raucous clamour makes you groan. "I'll just leave 'em here for him. Buddy that I am." He spins back to face you. "And you can get back to listening to Bach and drinking your oolong." He makes a motion which could be tipping a cup or something more heinous. "Your majesty."

You furrow your brow and roll your eyes. "All I asked for was a bit of decency. It wasn't any sort of insult but I see to you, any thought of being kind is offensive."

"Talkin' to me about being decent and you're stood out here in a dish towel," he scoffs.

"I--" you look down, remembering yourself. You move to hide behind the door. "Well, you disturbed me--"

"You are disturbed, ain't ya, sweetheart?"

You sneer. "Fine, whatever. I'll make sure Hugh gets his drums."

"Hugh?" He chuckles. "You are something."

"Good night, sir." You back up and close the door. Your certain to lock it too.

His laughter keens through and friction brushes up the other side. "It's Butcher, not sir, love." He taps and you flinch, "have yourself a good night, won't ya? Don't think of me too much."

You huff and have a mind to open the door again. Not, that’s only what he wants. You retreat and trod back to the bathroom. The water’s tepid and the scent of the candles grows overwhelming. You shut off the music and pull the stopper. So much for relaxing.

The tension needles across your shoulder. You blow out the wicks and snatch your book from the table. You go to your room and flip on the bedside lamp. You put the novel on your pillow and pull on a night gown.

You recline and crack open the book. A long honk blares from outside. That’s not unusual but what is, is the successive short toots that follow, almost in a rhythm. You try to ignore it. The honks vary, long, short, soft, loud. You realise the offender is doing a rather poor job of honking out Beethoven.

You know exactly the culprit and you won’t let him know you’re bothered. Let him waste his own energy not yours. Besides, if he had any sort of nuance, he’d realise you don’t sit around and listen to classical. You appreciate vintage music but you’re not pretentious. You simply have your tastes. Nothing wrong with that.

You lay back and your eyes gloss over the words without reading. You may not want to give him the satisfaction but it doesn't mean it’s not working. Several rereads of the same paragraph have you fed up. You sink down and drop the book.

You stare at the ceiling and sigh. You can’t even put on a movie or music. You won’t be able to hear it.

As if on cue, silence. You exhale. Thank god.

An engine rumbles and you hear it steer down the alley outside. You hear the tires crawling just below your window. Another wall of sound rises and has you nearly jumping out of your skin. Heavy metal pumps through the wall and has you gritting your teeth.

It’s him. That imbecile.

#billy butcher #dark billy butcher #dark!billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #the boys #series #drabble #diabolical

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colibrie · 3 months ago

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Fang AU DTIYS: Compromise

What's this? Me showing up late with a project that was meant to be short but then got way out of hand and became huge...couldn't be me. This is my submission for the wonderful @trilobitepunch DTIYS. I can't draw beyond stick figures, but trilo is a wonderful artist who deserves to be celebrated, so I decided to write something instead. For full context, I highly recommend checking out the full Fang AU tab on Trilo's page. Having said that, congratulations on your milestone trilobug, lets do this!

"Uh...Raphel?"

"Hey CJ," Raph grunted, reveling in the burn of well worked muscles as he pressed the barbell up and away from his chest. Even with the events and marks of the invasion fading further into the past with each day, he didn't think he'd ever again take for granted the ability to control how he moved his body. Whether through the familiar burn of pushing his limits like a boss or fiddling with the puzzles that he'd been assured would help him regain better depth perception in his damaged eye, all of it was beautiful. All of it was...

"It's Raph, remember? Or Raphie. You're pretty much part of the family now kid and pops the only one who regularly bothers with the ael part."

"Oh! Right, sorry Raphae...Raph..."

"Eh, don't sweat it," Raph rumbled, heart squeezing fondly as he set the barbell on its stand and sat up to give the now rather awkward human his full attention. "Didja need somethin?"

"I was just wondering if you'd seen S-Leo around," Casey Jr asked, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Their future boy was doing a decent job at settling in and moving with the chaos that made up the Hamato family line, likely a benefit from having been raised by alternate and older versions of them. But that familiarity was a doubled edge sword, and ingrained honorifics like "Sensei" and "Master" were slow to fade from the kid’s vocabulary. That went for personal titles too. Raph still had to bite back the urge to laugh when he remembered the fish-eyed stare Donnie had given the first time CJ had slipped up and called him "Uncle Tello". Somethings were just too priceless, and April had been happy to print him a copy from the security stills. While that version of Raph hadn’t been around to raise Casey Jr, the habit of calling him by his full name was one this version of himself was determined to break.

"Raph hasn't seen him," Raph replied, leaning forward to snag his work out towel from its usual spot next to the dumbbell rack. "Have you checked his room."

“Mhm. I also checked the kitchen, the arcade, and the comic nook. There’s no sign of him.”

"Huh. Maybe he's on his skateboard?" Raph pondered as he wiped the towel across his face and neck.

As a family of awesome, world-saving, kick-butt ninjas, it wasn't odd for them to disappear from time to time. No matter how close they were, sometimes space was needed. Mikey would bake, Raph would organize his plushies, Leo would read comics. Donnie had made an art of disappearing from chaotic or boring situations, starting from when they were kids. The soft shell often needed periods of quietly productive tinkering before he could fully join in on the rough and tumble fun preferred by his harder shelled siblings.

What pushed it into the territory of weird, borderline concerning, however, was the lack of heads up. While they currently didn't need permission to leave the lair, the events of the invasion, and more recently the disaster with the GDF lab, had been weighing on all of them. There was a tension in the lair, a near tangible need to see each other, to be close enough to reach out and touch to confirm that, despite everything, they were all still alive. Mikey was alternated between fine and stage five clingy, constantly draped over Raph’s shell, slinging arm around April, or leaning into Casey Jr as he taught the young man how to cook. The twins had been all but glued at hip throughout their recovery. For Raph, it was a constant effort to not give in to paranoia every time he woke up from dreams of pink slime and pleaded apologies, a herculean effort of will to not lunge forward, ninpo ready, whenever one of the twins turned to fast. Heck, even Barry had all but moved in for a while, choosing to engage in his and Splinter’s endless bickering rather than be separated. It had taken a full month before he was fully confident that the serum was working as intended, and another month and a half before the Yokai had been even semi comfortable returning to his apartment.

When they had had to leave, it had never been without a thousand heads up and an iron clad enforcement of the buddy system. So, for Leo to apparently just disappear...

"Have you asked-?"

They both jumped as the front door to their home slammed open, and a loud, irate voice filled the air.

"Alright, where is he?!"

"April?"

Sure enough, the petite form of their adopted older sister was stalking towards them, drenched to the bone and nearly steaming with irritation.

"Whoa, what happened to you Comma...Apirl?" Casey asked, raising his hands and backing up toward Raphs greater bulk as the pissed off eighteen-year-old girl came into swinging range. CJ was a smart kid.

"Donnie was supposed to meet me at the park this afternoon to run some code tests on our tracking system," April growled, wet shoes slapping the concrete as she stomped over to stand by them, water rolling from clothes and hair alike to form a small puddle. "I figured the fresh air, and space would do him some good. And I told him to be on time, cause the weather app said it was supposed to rain at three."

"Wait... are you saying Donnie never showed up?" Casey Jr asked, trepidation clear in his tone as April tried to fruitlessly squeeze the moisture from her hair.

"Uh huh. I'm not trying to turn "soggy" into the next street style," April affirmed, sarcasm thick as she peeled off her sodden backpack and jacket. "Oh, when I get my hands on that boy! I know he's been in hermit mode the last few days, but not even a heads-up text?! He better build me a new laptop if this one kicks the can! I... wait... what's with the look’s boys?"

"You haven't heard from Donnie at all?" Raph pressed, something in his gut sinking as he and Casey Jr looked first at one another, then at April. "No texts, or calls? What about social media posts? Has he made any ta day?"

"No... now that I think about it... it's been kind of quiet on that front too," April replied slowly, her previous scowl rapidly shifting to a concerned frown as she looked at them. "What's going on?"

"I can't find Leo," Casey Jr sighed, one hand running nervously through his hair. "I didn't want to freak everyone out by sounding a code red if he was just chilling somewhere... but if he's missing, and now Donnie's gone radio silent..."

"Crap," April muttered, eyes widening in realization.

"I'll send out the code," Casey Jr said, the kids face and body language shifting into what they'd all come to call his "super soldier" mode. "Raph, find Mikey and send him to the Hidden City. We can't risk them revealing themselves by targeting unsuspecting Yokai. I'll head to Tío's and get him to shut down the portal there. Have Splinter call Draxum, then start sweeping the sewers in-"

"Whoa! Slow down now," April cut in, quickly stepping forward to lay a restraining hand on both boys’ arms. "Let's not overreact yet."

"We've lost the twins April, this ain't an overreaction!" Raph rumbled, hands clenching as anxiety for his brothers burned hot and acidic in his veins. "They'll have a head start, and if they've gone rouge..."

"If they'd gone rouge, we would have heard about it by now," April countered, her touch sympathetic as she squeezed his bicep reassuringly. "It would have been all over the web if two rampaging mutants were murdering people downtown, and Hueso is on high alert for anything that might resemble the virus in the Hidden City. Since we haven't heard either, that means they are probably still safe for now. And if they are having a tough time, the last thing we should do is spook them by overreacting, hear me? "

"Yeah, I hear ya," Raph breathed as Casey jr simultaneously deflated with a muttered "yes ma’am".

"Cool," April confirmed with a nod, huffing as a bedraggled clump of curls flopped across her forehead. "Alright, here's the new plan. I'm going to hunt down a towel and my spare set of clothes. You two are going to calmly find Mikey and Splinter, fill them in, and meet me in Donnie's lab. It looks like we're going to test the new tracking system after all."

"On it, Commander!" Casey Jr replied sharply, snapping into a full on salute before taking off towards the kitchen.

"...Dang," April muttered after a few seconds of shocked silence, "He hasn't done that in over a month..."

"Kids stressed. Not gonna lie, Raph gets the feeling."

"I know big guy," April replied, stepping in to hug him as best she could. "Go get Splints, and then we'll find those dumb-dumbs and give them what for."

"Yeah, Thanks April," Raph replied, arms lifting her in an quick bear hug before moving to find their father. Pizza supreme, they were lucky to have a big sister like April.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, how does this new system work again? I mean, Donnie said he already had trackers on all of us, so why did he make a new one?" Mikey asked from his spot perched atop Raph’s shell as they all huddled around Donnie's computer, watching Aprils' fingers fly across the keys.

"Think of it less as a new system and more of a super charged expansion pack," April replied as her right thumb spammed the space bar. "Donnie wanted a better way to not just track but get ahead of his and Leo's flair ups. Their new chips are, in theory, supposed to transmit bioinformation like cardiovascular rate, respiratory rate, and core temperature. He wanted to include brain waves and neurological patterns, but we agreed to hold off on brain stuff until the base enhancements are out of beta."

"I don't care if they make it all the way through omega. Absolutely no "brain stuff"". Splinter cut in sharply, tail lashing back and forth in an agitated way that had Raph instinctively scooting them back and out of said appendages strike range.

"MmmhmyeahtotalyANYWAY," April quickly agreed, though Mikey watched as a swift click of the mouse swooped several files into a file labeled "Unfolding Genius".

"Point in being is that with this, I can both track the twins and monitor their bio signs for indicators that something has triggered them into a hunt. I had it set up for the trials we were going to run today, but as soon as I disengage that protocol, we'll be able to find both in no time."

"What were you testing today?" Mikey asked, leaning forward to watch as wave after wave of purple binary code rolled across the screen.

"Just some technical stuff, attunement to baselines. Nothing very interesting," April replied nonchalantly.

"Uh, how were you going to get a baseline without-" Casey jr started to ask skeptically, only for the computer to cut in with an obnoxiously loud sound of triumph.

"We got our boys!" April cheered.

"Where are they? Are they hurt? " Raph asked, nearly knocking Mikey from his perch as when the big guy lunged in towards the screen.

"It says they're at... the old lair?"

"Donatello said the area was unstable. Why would they go there?" Splinter asked.

"Who cares? We gotta go get 'em before they move," Raph replied, and Mikey quickly adjusted his grip as the gentle giant lumbered to his feet.

"I don't have access to the full biometric spectrum yet, but their heart rates suggest they are calm and stationary for now. Mikey, are you getting anything on the mystic end of things?" April asked, wheels screeching against the labs concrete floor as she pushed away from the desk and reached for her bat.

"Not really?" Mikey hedged, lips puckering as he turned his attention inward to poke at their collectively connected ninpo. Their family tapestry was whole once move, thank pizza, blue and purple once more interlocked with red, orange, green, silver-gray, and aquamarine. Yet...

"They're still here, but they're...looser than they should be. Duller. Like they're missing some of their pizazz."

"Then let’s go pizazz things up!" Raph barked, making warmth bloom in Mikey's bones as the big guy turned and stalked out of the lab. Though his biggest brother still had moments where he defaulted back to treating Mikey like a baby, Raph always took his opinion on mystic things seriously.

"Dad, you and April and Casey Jr stay-"

"Hey now!"

"I can help!"

"You guys stay here and prep the lair and the med bay," Raph pushed on, deep voice rumbling across the protests. "They may not need it, but it can't hurt to be prepared."

"We'll call you once we've got them," Mikey promised, tossing his remaining a family his warmest smile as he and Raph headed for the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The path to the old lair was painfully familiar, walls and tunnels covered with Mikey's once flawlessly colorful art, now shot with deep cracks and cavernous crevices that still stood as silent testament to the Shredders ferocity. Seeing it, even years later, made something deep in Raph’s heart burn with the urge to either cry or hit something.

They didn't come back here often. The four of them had never discussed it out loud, but the consensus hung like a shroud, a silent accord they'd all secretly signed in their hearts the day they'd scavenged the last of their possessions from the rubble. This place, even for all the happy memories they'd shared with it, was where they had both gained and lost their grandmother. Where home had been forever marred by devastation too painful to be near. The old subway station had been unfamiliar, rough and raw with new potential, but it was their future and all four had leaned into gathering, shaping, and modifying it with every conceivable comfort and curiosity to make that future their new home.

So why would the twins have come here? Had something happened? Were the bio-what-zits wrong? Why hadn't they come to Raph for help? They had promised they'd would, in those family talks with Dr. Feelings (and a rougher session or two with Dr. Delicate Touch). Both Donnie and Leo had sworn to be honest, to tell them if the krangy parts of them were taking over again. Maybe they'd...

"-ph...aph...RAPHAEL!"

"Gah!"

Raph nearly jumped a foot into the air as his baby brother’s shout was accompanied by dexterous fingers prodding at a soft, ticklish spot at the juncture of his neck and shell.

"Aaaaaye! Mikey, what the shell was that for?!" he hissed, jaw flexing as he twisted his head to glare at his passenger.

""I've been calling your name for like the last five minutes!" Mikey scowled in reply, dark eyes returning the heat as they scanned his face. "You missed the turn off for the side door.”

"Oh...Raphs bad," he mumbled, turning away to pretend to look around and "reorient" himself before turning to head back the way they'd come. It was a stupid thing to do. Even half blown to smithereens he still knew these tunnels like the back of his hand, and so did Mikey.

"Soooooooooo...want to talk about it?"

"What "it"?"

"The "it" that's turning your Raph chasm into a Raph crater," Mikey pressed, leaning in closer. "You aren't subtle Raphie. Come on, spit it out."

"Nuthin. I'm jus worried bout the twins," Raph replied, grimacing at how weak and defensive the excuse sounded.

"They haven't moved at all in the last fifteen minutes. Aprils been sending me updates every few minutes to confirm it," Mikey pushed. "What else is rolling around in there?"

"Raph...doesn't like that they went off on their own. I mean, doesn't that bother you too? After all those talks and lectures. After that near miss with April! They oughta know better than to just up and disappear on us!"

"I mean, yeah, you're not wrong. They should have told us they were going out...But they probably wanted their own space, and none of us have been really good at giving them that as of late."

"It's for their own good! They know that! They agreed to it!" Raph growled, agitation growing in his gut as he turned left and stomped down another cross tunnel.

"That's probably why it's taken them this long to pull a Houdini. They've put up with a lot. Draxums checkups, restricted surface time... heck Raphie, we're like, super-limited-edition-mint-condition-lucky that they just went to the old lair instead of the other side of the city."

"So, what do you want us to do Mikey? Cut'em loose in the Hidden City and hope to pizza supreme that they don't lose their cool and maim a whole bunch of Yokai?! Let'em go out with a "have fun, try not to kill any humans on the way home?!"

"I want my family back to normal Raph! I want to be their brother again, not their jailer!"

"And you think I don't?!"

"I think you-"

The happy jingle of Aprils ring tone cut through their budding argument, bouncing and rebounding off the concrete and rebar. Raph turned his head away as Mikey fumbled for his phone, the muscles in his jaw rhythmically clenching as he chewed over what to do or say next.

Deep down, he knew Mikey had a point. The twins couldn't spend their lives locked up at home. And if he was honest, neither could he. As close as their family was, and as reassuring as it was to have them near, the frustration of being continuously chained to one another was a steadily rising tide under the surface of forced calm. Donnie wanted to go out to the junkyard. Leo wanted to bother Hueso. Raph...Raph really missed hanging out with Casey, the nights were the two of them would meet up to spar and end up gushing for hours about the latest wrestling match and which moves they wanted to try out for themselves. The decision to limit both the information about what happened to a few and limit the family's contact with outsiders who weren't Casey Jr or April had made a lot of sense months ago, but...

"Alright, yeah. We're almost there. Tell Barry to hold off for now, we'll call if we need a portal," Mikey said, pulling Raph’s attention away from his thoughts and back to the dimly lit reality of the tunnel. "Uh huh...yep...I'll text you the level once we get to them, promise. Gotta go Apes. Love."

"Everything good?" Raph asked as Mikey ended the call.

"Yeah. She said she did some techno-thingamagiggy with the trackers and got a better signal. Both icons are in Donnie's old room."

"Oh..."

"Dad also called Barry but told him to stay on standby. And Barry agreed, so we have backup!"

"Cool big man..."

"And...um...I'm sorry-"

"Raphs sorry-"

They blinked at each other for a moment, before bursting out in soft peals of laughter that bounced down the path, warming the space around them.

"J-jinx!" Mikey wheezed, "you owe me garlic knots!"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll tell Hueso ta add'em next time we go...An we'll go soon."

"Soon?"

"Mhm. You're right big guy. We can't live locked up forever, and Raph's sorry for bein a jerk about it."

"You're not a jerk Raphie. You've been doing a lot to keep us safe. I'm sorry if I made it seem like I don't appreciate that."

"Already forgiven. Now, let’s go get our bozos back."

The original entrance to their old home had remained staunchly buried under tons of rubble, but the side entrance that had once served as the garage was still blessedly accessible to Raph's bulk. Water dripped from the ceiling, a softly rolling symphony of drip, plip, plop that beckoned them further in. It was not hard to find and follow evidence of the twin’s passage. Footprints, two sets, disturbed the thick layer of dust on the ground, and pieces of rubble had clearly been moved to widen the path.

Their bedrooms had suffered various degrees of damage from both the fire and falling rubble, and while his lab had been utterly destroyed, Donnie's bedroom had somehow maintained the most structural integrity. The hollow maw of the open door loomed as they approached, what little metal Donnie hadn't stripped when they moved ragged and rusting, hanging like broken teeth that warned against casual approach. Raph felt Mikey shrink back into his shell slightly as he crouched to peer past the door jam.

The twins were scrunched against the far wall, curled around one another on whatever was left of Donatello's bed. Donnie lay with his head in Leo's lap, long legs tucked to his chest. His goggles sat askew on his head, knocked off center by the hands were loosely pressed over his tympanum. Leo sat slumped against the wall; body curved protectively around his other half. The wicked claws of one hand drummed random patterns across the purple titanium of the battle shell Donnie wore while the other hand toyed with the tails of his mask. Soft hisses and churrs filled the air around them, words replaced by more instinctual vocalizations broken every now and then by a higher whistle or a deeper hum. Neither looked up at or acknowledge Raph and Mikey's intrusion.

Raph opened his mouth to call his brothers, but a quick tap on the shoulder redirected his attention to the other brother sitting on his shoulder, and the phone screen that was promptly pushed towards his face.

"They feel weird, lik thy rn't all there. Don't want to startle thm in here." Mikey had hastily written.

Raph quickly ducked back, tucking them against the outer wall before pulling out his own phone.

"R they full gone?"

"No, just loose. Think they're slippin in an out of it mentally."

"Any ideas? Raphs open."

"Operation BF-Prime?”

"Wow. Pullin out the big guns. Raph likes."

";D"

Raph stifled the urge to chuckle as his thumbs flew across the screen of his phone.

"Alright. Text Apes and CJ the plan, then head back the way we came. We're luring them out to the Atrium."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was easier to breathe here in the dark. The dark protected them, far away from the smells and the sounds and the eyes that always watched, always saw. It concealed their weakness, hid away the urge to lunge and claw and...

tap, tap, tippity-tapity tiptiptiptip…

He hissed weakly as the tapping broke through the buzz of their thoughs, tightening his hands as though smothering the ability to hear could smother the thoughts that raced round and round and round inside his head, wobbling nauseously between he, me, they, we, him, us at what felt like breakneck speeds.

A reassuring purr rumbled from their...from Leo's throat in reply.

That was Leo. His twin. One of four brothers. He was Donatello. A genius. A scientist. He loved fashion and dancing and Atomic Lass, and Leo loved the dramatic twists in soap operas and winning and basketball. He had to remember that. Had to organize and amend and enforce it on the thrashing, howling thing in his skull that though in plurals and endlessly chased and craved connection... to be together...together…

Taptaptaptap-CRASH.

They were on their feet in an instant, claws unsheathed, and teeth bared as they warily looked around. The shadows had not changed, but new smells had entered the safe zone. Familiar, so familiar. Family.

Togetherbite...

Nono...no....nobite…

They hissed in displeasure as they stumbled from their den, disapproval and discord swirling in their heads as they followed the path, and the scents, towards the open space in the center.

Those who belonged together...togetherneeded...theyneeded...Bite? No. Nobite. Promised. Promisedwho? Significantpromise? Yes! Promised...

Something sprang from the shadows, arms the size of trees pinning their arms down before hauling them back and in, lifting their feet clear off the floor.

"Mikey now!"

They screamed as fire exploded in their synapsis, thrashing and snarling as bright marigold and blazing red crashed into that thing in their skull, slamming it down with a devastating suplex before binding it in smoldering gold chains. The colors peeled the thing back, pushing it down, down, down and out of their precious space. His space, his mind...

"Donnie!"

"Mikey?"

The orange flames did not burn this time, permitting only the gentlest heat as they flew back to joyfully whirl around him. His little brother, happiness and sunshine and power incarnate. Their family's true north, constant and sure. He reached for that light, hazy purple seeking relief and finding it offered with open arms. Filaments of marigold wove a gossamer net, pulling him in and up until his head broke the metaphorical surface.

"...be home in five. How they lookin?"

"I got through to Donnie, but he's kinda woozy. I'll work on getting through to Leo next!"

"I sure hope April is ready for us, because we are comin in hot!"

His body was hanging from something, limp legs swaying weakly as whatever held him moved forward in a run. His hands pawed mechanically at something firm and leathery, finding insufficient purchase against whatever held him still. To his right something akin to a lawnmower dying could be heard, high pitched keens sliding down to incoherent rumbles that might, if one were to be extraordinarily generous with the definition, be classified as words.

"Got him! Lee, can you understand me? Blink once for yes, and twice for no!"

Leo...

"GerOooooofffff," Leo moaned, voice guttural as it warbled on the edge of a growl.

His blue-clad brother was tucked under Raphs other arm, hands weakly plucking and scratching at their older brother's forearm in much the same way he had. Slitted pupils glared at their brethren, their...his fangs on full display, a silent warning, and ultimately a hollow one.

Donnie could see it in the light that gleamed from behind those predators’ eyes, feel it distantly echoing from that thing in his skull that was still pinned down by red and orange energies. Leo was awake and rapidly regaining control over their-his, for the love of shell, his-mental faculties. He wouldn't be a threat to the family. If only Donnie could feel so confident of his own self-control. The world still felt...watery for lack of a better word, like it was contained in the cup Mikey used to clean his brushes. Colors and lights bled, melting down in big looping swirls as his mind fought to preserve the tentatively won separation of turtle and monster. The thing wailed, tugging desperately at the barren threads of his thoughts and powers, trying to pull him back in and down. It needed him. It was him. It was...lonely? Scared? Angry? Confused?

"Almost there Lee," Mikey's assurance pulled his attention back, the familiar sight and scents of their new home drifting into view. "Don't worry, Aprils got operation BF-prime ready to roll, so we'll have you feeling better in no time!"

Operation BF Prime... he knew what that was. He helped design it. With April. It had been his way to apologize, as funny enough, Hallmark didn't make a "sorry my freaky genetic makeup and unpredictable virus-based mutations made me hunt you down and almost kill you" card. So instead, he'd spent hours with her, first on the phone and then in person, coming up with safety procedures that covered the serious, the strange, and even some that were downright whacky. They had talked about what happened, and eventually even laughed. She'd promised that they'd fix things to...toge...

"Special delivery!" Raph called, charging through the front door without slowing down.

"Main area. April’s getting the last piece."

Casey Jr's scent hit his nose hard, and a strangled hiss slipped through his teeth before he could stop it.

"Easy Dee. Hold your breath for a minute."

He did as he was told, desperately squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to force himself to think about the code. BF-Prime. BF-Prime. Prime. Part of the Alpha series. Top protocol, used for their "bad days" as April put it. B, not A. Not something they'd need Draxum for.

BF stood for...

He squawked as Raph’s arm suddenly disappeared. Limb’s flailing, he dropped into a nest of...pillows? Yes. Feathery soft, well-worn pillows and felty blankets that smelled of the family's detergent.

Oh right... BF stood for blanket fort.

He churred as instinct had him burrowing down, swiftly burying himself in the ocean of softness as Leo hit the pile with an undignified yelp. Gentle fingers tugged off his goggles, smoothing down the creases in his mask before slipping his noise canceling headphones into place. Something big, heavy, and luxuriously silky covered them both, trapping Leo against his back as divinely weighted warmth infused his tight-strung muscles.

Voices, blessedly muted by the protective cone of his headphones, rumbled overhead. Like the burble of water through the pipes, there but easy to ignore. Less easy to ignore were the fingers that worked their way beneath the blankets and pillows to pry at the safety latches on his battle shell. He growled, mouth opening to snap at the intruder only to be met with something cold and semi-hard being pressed between his teeth. He instinctively bit down, and his mouth was quickly flooded by the refreshingly bland taste of cucumber.

"I know, I know," someone soothed, silky fur tickling the edge of his jaw as that someone adjusted the layers around him. "Bear with us Purple, you and Blue will be more comfortable if they take it off now."

He whined, fangs shredding pleasantly through the cucumber as the latches at his shoulders and hips flipped open. He dipped his head to chase that familiar touch as the weight of his armor was taken away, leaving the softest parts of him open and vulnerable.

"It’s alright, my clever purple. You can rest now; your papa is here."

Weight settled in around him, above and below, side to side, careful not to crowd, but close enough that he could feel their warmth. Leo shifted, rotating until he was laying fully across Donnie’s back, a reassuring pressure protecting his soft shell.

He sighed as cheerful tangerine tugged at the edges of his consciousness, wearily relinquishing his hold on wakefulness as he turned inward, following his little brother’s lead. The supernova that was his family's collective ninpo burst into life, rippling bands of color rich enough to put the aurora borealis to shame eagerly reaching out to draw him closer. Silver-gray, summer green, and vibrant aquamarine joined red and orange in holding back the thing, quieting its incessant howling until it was barely a whisper. He sagged in exhausted relief, swiftly followed by washed out blue as their family bundled them up and held them close.

"You dumb-dumbs," Red buzzed, worry and affection pulling them into its protection. "You scared the shell outa us."

"Sorry Raphie," Leo's blue slurred, sticking close to Donnie's purple even as Casey Jr's aquamarine stubbornly wedged himself in on his other side. "Didn't mean to."

"Why did you leave?" April asked, green sidling in, silently nudging him in gentle recognition when he buzzed in apology.

"Now is not the time for questions" Their father declared, silver-grey stretching to surround them all. "You boys need to rest and regain your balance, we'll talk when you wake up." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he woke, pulled from the loving tangle of his family’s network by his body's irritating biological needs. His mouth was dry and tasted of stale cucumber, eyelids itchy and gummy as he tried to blink sleep away from his eyes. His headphones had been knocked off at some point, leaving his tympanum free to begin picking out pieces from the low conversation flowing around him.

"So, who is going to..."

"Hueso said about an hour. Probably accounting for Leo time. So-"

"Dad's going-"

"-been down for a while. Should we wake them?"

"Donnie? Doooooonie. You awake?"

"No," he huffed, shoving his head further into the cradle of his arms when the voices cheered.

"Awake and talking! Good going Dee!"

"I am neither. It's a figment of your imagination."

"Uh huh. Come on big baby, sit up. I've got some flavorless juice here with your name on it."

Warm hands pulled at him, ignoring his grumbles of protest as he was propped upright. A straw slipped between his lips silenced him, but the intrusion swiftly forgiven when his preferred beverage washed the staleness from his tongue and throat.

"There you go. Feel better?"

"Mmmm," he hummed, hand rising to take the cup as he gave up pretense and blinked his eyes open.

He was propped against Raph's plastron at the center of a frankly massive blanket fort. What appeared to be every cushion, pillow, blanket and quilt that the family owned had been piled into the living room, couches and chairs rearranged to provide a stable framework. April knelt to his left, dressed in the spare clothes that she kept in his lab. She seemed to hear his silent question, giving him an exaggerated grimace before replying.

"SOMEONE forgot to meet me at the park, and I got soaked on the walk here."

"Sweet Marie Curie, that was today?!" he gasped, his stomach twisting unpleasantly when April nodded. "I am so sorry April."

"It's alright man. I'm guessing you've been kind of out of it lately."

"Eh, not much more than any other day," Leo chimed in sleepily, and a quick glance to his right found his twin propped up against Raph's legs, firmly sandwiched between Mikey and Casey Jr.

He tried to frown, but like the drowsy smile he got in reply, it lacked any of the real power it should have held. Not when he honestly felt like he could easily fall back asleep if he blinked for too long. His mind was so blessedly silent, the thing muted by the collective weight of his family ninpo, and he was only prevented from drifting by a finger softly poking his cheek.

"Nuh uh, eyes open D. You can go back to sleep after you've eaten something," Mikey nudged, unrepentant as he forced Donnie to open his eyes once more. "Dad is on his way to pick up our favorites from Run of the Mill now. You don't want to miss that!"

"And, while we wait, you two can finally tell us what in the world made you two think disappearing like that was a good idea," Raph groused.

"Oh, yeah...that," Leo replied, voice carefully light and nonchalant as Donnie cringed. "It was really all a big misunderstanding. Dee had an idea, and we wanted to test it out first before we brought it to you guys. Must have lost track of time."

"Leo, you two were basically at alpha level coherence. That's a bit more than "losing track of time"," Mikey countered, his face dressed in earnest concern that border lined on distress, and Donnie felt vindicated when even Leo flinched away from it. "We were really worried about you."

"I'm sorry Mikey. We didn't mean for it to end up like that, I promise," Leo repeated, pulling Mikey in closer for a one-armed hug.

"What were you trying to test?" Casey Jr asked.

"Something, something, big-brained nerd stuff?" Leo replied with a wave of his hand. The attempted deflection fell flat amongst the cushions as all other eyes turned to stare at Donnie.

"I... was testing to see if it were possible for me to "reprogram" the mutations caused by the lingering Krang influence," Donnie answered stiffly, ducking his head as the atmosphere within the fort went tight with tension.

"You what now?!"

"Donnie!"

"And you didn't think we needed to know that?!"

"That's impossible!"

"No, it’s not!" he snapped, neck muscles cramping as he jerked his chin up to glare at the last person to speak, Casey Jr. "Let us recall that I was the one temporarily bonded to the technodrome, and thus I have a far better understanding in regard to its functions than any of you! It was as technological as it was biological. It had functions and subroutines, and it processed information as data. Even if this thing isn't a full technodrome, it still processes information the same way and it is integrated with my ninpo. The same ninpo that lets me replicate any technology I can comprehend?! If I can study this thing, if I can understand its functions, then I should be able to use my ninpo to rewrite them!"

"If it were possible to rewrite krang matter, Uncle Tello would have-"

"That version of me didn't know what I know. I can do things he never even dreamed of."

"Ooookay, let's put that bit aside for now," April cut in quickly as Casey Jr's face darkened. "What were you specifically testing?"

"Nothing complicated," Donnie shrugged, trying his best to ignore the way Raphs unhappy objection vibrated through his leathery carapace. "I was trying to establish what kind of interface the thing requires to send and receive commands."

"And you couldn't have done that here?" Raph prodded.

"No," Donnie replied, shoulders rising as his tone unintentionally turned irritated and snappish.

"Why?" Mikey pressed.

"Because you are all-"

"-distracting," Leo cut in smoothly, one foot nudging Donnie's thigh under the blanket in a clear signal to shut up.

"Oh..."

"It's nothing personal Mikey," Leo soothed, "it's just with everything happening in the lair, it gets loud, and that makes it kind of hard for Donbon to concentrate."

Even after sixteen years, the ease with which Leo pulled together plausible explanations from strands of truth and slivers of fact astounded Donnie.

"That still doesn't explain why you didn't come to us with the idea first," Raph chided, tenacious as a dog with a bone. "Raph isn’t kidding when I say you scared the shell out of us. We nearly called Draxum to find you two!"

"Because you would have listened to us anyway."

The words were bitter on his tongue, and he dragged in another sip of flavorless juice in the awkward silence that followed.

"What do you mean? Of course we would have listened!" Casey Jr protested.

"No, you wouldn't," Donnie shook his head hard, sitting up as he curled his knees up to his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the fingers on Leo's free hand begin to subtly flutter.

"Yes, we would have Dee," April rebutted. "We would have worked with you, just like you and I have been working on the new protocols."

"Any time the thing in my head comes up in conversation, you all shut us down!" Donnie snapped, fingers flexing and flicking as hot irritation filled his chest. "You ask a million questions about what it feels like, what triggers it, how Draxums’ medication does or doesn't affect it, but you don't ask me what I think about it, or what we want to do about it. You act like we'll go rabid if someone sneezes too loud! I can't even be in my own lab without someone watching me. If we'd told you my idea, you would have treated us like invalids, shut it down, and forbidden me to even try!"

"Donatello, that is not fair. We're just trying to-"

"Hang on," Mikey cut in, tone firm as he raised one scarred hand, "Donnie is asking to be heard here, so let's give him the floor and hear him out without interruptions. Go ahead D,"

"It's...I..." Donnie fumbled under the attention, fingers now frantically plucking at handfuls of the blanket as he strained to form some kind of coherent thought from the twisted mess inside of him.

This wasn't right. This wasn't how he wanted to approach things. He needed time to organize his preliminary data, and make a PowerPoint complete with charts and tables. Something visual, and respectable. Something that would make his family understand. Something to tame and order and hold back these gross emotions that stuck to his lungs like tar and gathered along his lashes like pine pitch, burning and stinging and making it hard to breathe or blink. He just wanted...

"We get you guys love us, and we get that you want to keep us safe, but we need you to back off," Leo spoke up, gracefully shifting attention to himself. Donnie shivered in relief, leaning over with silent gratitude when Leo stretched out to tangle their legs together.

"We need you to treat us like us," his twin continued, shoulders thrown back as a spark of leadership entered his eyes and voice, "like Donnie and Leo, not patient x. We need you to include us in the conversations, not hide them behind closed doors when you think we're not paying attention. You see it protecting us, but all it does is make us feel isomalated."

"Isolated," Donnie corrected, hiding a slight smile of affection in the crook of his elbow when Leo nudged him playfully with his ankle.

"What he said," Leo joked, flashing Donnie a smile and a wink before turning back to the others.

"Raph...didn't mean to make you guys feel like that," the giant of their family replied uncomfortably, one hand rubbing at the edge of the scar that stretched over his eye. "We just didn't want you to have to think about it."

"That ship sailed a while ago for both of us Raphie," Leo replied, a hint of sad frustration sneaking in between the syllables as he spoke. "You heard what Drax said, there is no fixing this, only managing it. This thing is with Donnie and me every second of every day. I wake up fighting the urge to bite something. I walk around the lair, and sometimes I have to stop to sort out which are things I'm seeing and feeling, and what things are from Dontron. Sometimes I dream about hunting and...and that's our lives now. We can't go back, and we can't ignore it. We have to figure out how to live with it on our terms."

"Is that why you went to our old place? So, you could face it on your "own terms"?" Mikey asked, his usual sunny face solum as Leo shrugged.

"Maybe a little," the red eared slider allowed, raising one hand palm down before tilting it side to side in a so-so gesture. "We also wanted to have some proof of concept before we got everyone's hopes up, and the lair being so crowded does make it hard to concentrate. We figured the old lair was isolated enough that no one would be in danger if we experimented with the thing, but close enough that we could be back before you guys noticed."

The blanket fort was silent for several minutes, and each second felt like it was drilling into Donnie's brain, winding his muscles into tense springs as he waited for his sibling’s judgement to fall. He could feel the same tension coiling inside Leo, and from the way his fingers were fluttering Donnie had little doubt that if his twin still had his katanas he would have already teleported out of the room.

It was their big sister who finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry you guys."

"It's fine Apes,"

"No, it's not," she shook her head, one hand landing on Donnie's shoulder as she reached out to Leo with the other. "You guys shouldn't have to feel like you need to hide things from us in order to have a say, and you shouldn't feel ostracized in your own care either. We did that, and I'm sorry for my part in it."

A chorus of "Me too," "Our bad," and "I'm sorry guys", closely followed her statement.

"Aww, you saps," Leo teased, but the smile he gave as Mikey and Casey Jr pinned him a hug was his genuine smile, big and warm and a little crooked.

"We'll do better. Raph promises," Raphel added, and Donnie allowed himself to be swept into his big brother’s arms with only a minor theatrical groan.

"Yes, yes, acknowledgements and apologies given and received all around. Now please loosen your grip. I don't currently have the proper equipment to withstand a full force Raph hug."

"Yep, that's our Donnie! Sensitive as a soaked cat."

"I beg your considerable pardon! I-"

"-am gonna quit stalling and tell us the results of test you guys ran. Come on, I'm dying to know! " April redirected the conversation with teasing poke to his ribs.

"Sadly, the results were less than conclusive," Donnie reluctantly admitted, resuming his slumped posture against Raph’s plastron once he was released from the hug. "It does seem to have some form of OS, but one that doesn't respond to scripts like java, python, or R."

"Did you really think it would?"

"It was possible," Donnie shrugged, new energy sparking through his thoughts as excitement for his ideas blossomed. "It is part of me after all, so theoretically it could have altered itself to fit my cognitive process the same way it altered itself to my biology. And it has, only it hasn't altered to fit my way of thinking, but rather to fit my ninpo!"

"Wait, you think in code?" Mikey interrupted.

"Sometimes. It saves time."

"How does that even-"

"Shhhhhhhhhhhh, don't question the nerd logic," Leo counseled as he casually covered Mikey's mouth. "Just roll with it. It's way easier, trust me."

"Are the interruptions done?" Donnie sniffed primly, holding down a smirk by sheer will as his blue and orange dumb-dumbs nodded in tandem.

"Right, as I was saying, I was able to ascertain that the thing is adapted to receive signals from ninpo, which is likely why it can be effectively suppressed for short periods of time by our collective network. We are likely overloading its command center."

"Okay, it takes commands from ninpo. Can that help with you guys going all hissy and bitey on us?"

"Theoretically? The issue is that while it might be responsive to ninpo, there seems to be an additional code needed in order to deliver and process commands. Some combination I have yet to determine. It also seems that the thing is very sensitive regarding the specifics of the delivery method."

"I'll say," Leo chimed in, "that thing is more sensitive than a diva on a bad day."

"Something you'd know nuthin about, right Lee?" Raph teased, sending the whole fort into riotous laughter as Leo gasped with playfully theatrical afront.

"Hey now, don't come crying to me for secrets when you start getting dry scales and crow’s feet while my skin is still dewy soft and gorgeous!" Leo jabbed back, batting his eyes as their big brother roared with laughter.

"Okay, okay, focus guys!" April giggled, leaning over Donnie to swat at Leo's knee. "Finish telling the story."

"Not a whole lot left to tell," Leo shrugged, covertly glancing at Donnie as the others reigned in their mirth. Something pulsed between them, a bundle of wordless intent and questions that Donnie could not parse but understood all the same. The nod he gave was minuscule, barely a dip of his chin, but Leo seemed to read it all the same.

"The thing got all riled when Donnie tried to feed it his nerd script. I think it tried to eat us again, but I kept a grip on things while DonDon here played scientist. It worked pretty good for a while, but I guess it kind of crept up on us without us realizing and won out when you guys startled us. Which, on that note, good call going with the main room for the ambush."

"That was Raph! I was the one who initiated operation BF-Prime" Mikey chimed in, beaming when Leo playfully rubbed his knuckles across the top of Mikey's head.

"Whoa, the big brain over here is coming for my job!" Leo praised.

"So, you were able to keep control, even as Donnie was messing with the thing?" Casey Jr asked, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he looked between Leo and Donnie.

"It appears so," Donnie nodded, the tips of his fangs needling the skin of his lower lip as he searched for the correct descriptive words. "It was like...like being in an ocean. As long as Leo stayed at the surface, I could dive under and still find my way back up."

"If that’s true then...maybe we could use that as the basis for some new protocols."

"Oh?" Donnie replied warily, barely resisting the urge to pull away as the attention zeroed in on Casey Jr. "What kind of protocols did you have in mind?"

"One's that let us help you guys’ figure this out, on your terms," Casey Jr assured, shifting away from Leo slightly to better face the group. "We were wrong to shut you guys out, but we also can't risk what might happen to you guys if we don't proceed with some caution. So, as a compromise, what if we set up a new system, using parts of your old home as a central testing ground. If we outfit it with security features, then you and Leo could have a stable place to both get space from us and to test out your control of the thing. The security could link to your computer here, and one of us could monitor it and be prepared to respond if something goes sideways."

"If we get the new tracking system working, we could even be collecting other lines of data that could be used for comparison later!" April chimed in, excitement growing in her voice.

"And if something did go wrong, we could be there in no time!" Mikey added, nodding enthusiastically.

"Hmmmm...doesn't sound like a terrible idea," Leo slowly nodded, another indescribable pulse pressing against the back on Donnie's mind as he too slowly nodded.

"Indeed... though I have some thoughts. Like, how you would get in to assist us should we need it. Baring the side entrance, most of the old lair is too unstable to provide an additional access point."

"Simple, we'll portal in," Casey Jr replied.

"Wait...you mean I get my katanas back?!" Leo perked up.

"You both said you were able to stay anchored while Donnie poked the krang hound," Casey Jr nodded, fingers drumming back and forth across his knee as he spoke. "Your portals, in combination with the proposed alert system, should mean we'll be able to reach you in time to prevent the situation from devolving to alpha levels. What do you both think?"

"I could definitely handle the security measures so long as we keep it to portions of the atrium, and perhaps my prior abode," Donnie hummed, his mind already whirling through possible schematics and upgrades. "It would necessitate a trip to the junkyard."

"Okay. How about the day after tomorrow? Raph can help you carry back whatever ya need."

"Now that I have portal privileges back, we can drop supplies directly to the old lair and still have time to go to Hueso's!" Leo boasted, the joy from the return of his weapons turning the atmosphere of the fort tangibly sweet as they all continued to throw out ideas and suggestions for what Donnie quickly dubbed the "Theta" protocols. The conversation rolled on, slowly morphing from serious planning to outrageous boasts mixed with increasingly hairbrained proposals and double dares. The soft walls of the fort cocooned them in the warmth of and joy of their laughter, blocking out the world and its many problems for at least one night. Nothing, not even biology altering aliens, could pull them apart. "Heeeello?! Is anyone hungry or will I have to eat these pizzas by myself?"

Well, maybe not nothing.

"Pizza!"

Their fathers voice led to a stampede as the aromatic scent of cheesy, grease goodness filled the air. They all scrambled to find and exit, dirty tactics and old tricks liberally employed as each member of the family raced to be first in the kitchen.

"I call first go!"

"Keep your mitts off my meat lovers!"

"Hawaiian all the way baby!"

"It doesn't matter how many times you say it Nardo, pineapple on pizza is still an affront to decency!"

"Oh yeah? How about you decent deez-"

"Boy, do not even finish that sentence!"

Their father was waiting for them, already tucking into a slice as they all scrambled to grab their plates and divy up the spoils.

"Mmmmmmm is there anything better than the boneman's pies?" Leo moaned as he sank his teeth into a perfectly gooey slice.

"It's no hot soup, but I suppose it will do," Their pops teasingly grumbled, ears swiveling to lay flat as his words garnered rather loud protests.

#angst fairy writes #rottmnt #trilo fang au #trilosartstrikesagain #trilodtiys #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #rottmnt april #rottmnt casey jr #mentions of draxum but he is not really here.#Remember kids #communication is important #long post

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