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highfunctioningflailgirl · 6 months

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Maintenance

When Sam’s phone rings and he sees Castiel’s caller ID, he can’t quite suppress the old sense of alarm. Their lives have been peaceful for a while now - maybe too peaceful. And although Dean and Cas have seemed happy since moving into Bobby’s old cabin last year, Sam doesn’t trust that happiness. From experience, good things never last for the Winchesters.

Warily, he picks up the phone. “Cas, hey, what’s going on?”

“Can I seek refuge at the bunker?” As usual, the angel isn’t one for preliminaries.

“Why?” Sam asks, immediately worried. “What happened? Where’s Dean?”

“He’s at the farmer’s market.”

“The farmer’s market? What for?”

“To buy food.” Cas sounds annoyed. “That’s what you do there.”

Sam rubs his forehead. “I know that. But I didn’t know Dean did. But what does that have to do with you seeking refuge? Is someone after you? Something? Do you need help?”

“I definitely need help.” A nuance of desperation bleeds through Castiel’s grumpiness. “The situation is dire.”

Sam is squinting into the phone now. He still has no idea what the hell Cas is talking about.

“Cas, what happened? What the hell is going on?”

On the other end of the line, the angel sighs deeply. “I sent Dean for a check-up.”

“A check-up? At the doctor’s?” Sam’s heartbeat picks up.

“Yes. Humans are feeble creatures. They need maintenance, Samuel,” Cas lectures him.

“I know that,” Sam all but snaps back, his patience wearing thin. “And Dean went? Is he sick?”

“Not yet. But he could become sick if he doesn’t watch his-... wait, I forgot what it’s called.” There’s a pause, and Sam hears paper rustling in the background. “... his cholesterol. It’s too high.”

Now it’s Sam’s turn to sigh. He has a hunch where this is going. “Did his doctor put him on a diet?”

Castiel grunts gloomily. “He told him to swap meat for vegetables.”

“Let me guess,” Sam says, battling a feeling somewhere between relief, worry and laughter. “He’s eating greens and hating it.”

“...and being unbearable, yes,” Cas adds. “I know he’s doing this for me, Sam. He wants to be healthy for me. But, dear God, he’s killing me.” Sam can literally hear the misery written on the angel’s face.

“That bad?”

“He’s angry all the time. Even when he sleeps.”

Sam can’t help it. He chuckles.

“It’s not funny, Sam.”

“I know, I know.” Sam disguises his inappropriate mirth in a cough. “I’m sorry, Cas. I can imagine.”

He hears Castiel scratch his ever-present stubble.

“What shall I do, Sam? Can I stay with you and Eileen for a while? Until he's less... like this?”

Sam takes a moment to think. “Of course you can. But I don’t think it’ll help Dean’s mood if he thinks you’re leaving him.”

“I’m not leaving him!” Cas is appalled.

“No, but he’ll take it that way, Cas. You know how he is. He’s always afraid that you will. And he’ll blame himself. And that will make him even more angry.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” Glumly.

“That bad?”

“Demon Dean was a ray of sunshine compared to him.”

“Oh.”

They both fall silent for a moment. Sam is just about to suggest something when, on the other end of the line, he hears a door slam.

“Sam, Dean’s back,” Castiel hisses.

“Hey hey! Who are you talking to, Cas?”

Dean’s voice. Bright and cheerful.

“I’m… I’m talking to Sam…”

“Oh yeah? Tell him and Eileen to come over tonight! I’m putting steaks on the grill. And burgers. I’m gonna show that doctor where he can shove his cholesterol.”

Dean laughs, defiantly and wholeheartedly, and Sam can imagine the i-don’t-give-a-damn joy in his brother’s eyes.

Then Castiel is back on the line. “Did you hear what he said?” He sounds very relieved.

“Yes.” Sam smirks. “Problem solved, I guess?”

“For now. But I’ll need you to teach me some heart-healthy recipes. Maintenance, remember?”

“I’ll be happy to. But it’s you who’ll make him eat them.”

Castiel sighs again. “God help me.”

Sam chuckles again. “I’m afraid you’re on your own, buddy.”

He hangs up, to the sound of Dean whistling gaily in the background.

#suptober23 #no.12 #swap-meat #fanfic #it's not what you think #will you look at that #i thought i'd burned out on suptober #but apparently there's still some juice left in me #castiel #sam winchester #dean winchester #humor #destiel

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areyoudreaminof · 10 months

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Hover Corte

@elucienweekofficial Day 4: Courtiers

On her own self-imposed exile, Elain finds herself in the human lands to offer help to the Band of Exiles and try to make some progress with her estranged mate. Lucien, meanwhile, can’t quite find his footing with Elain. With the clock ticking, can they finally come to an understanding?

Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, The Waltz Fic, 8.3k words

Read on Ao3

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Elain

“Let’s try it one more time, I’ll count us off. Ready?” Elain asked as Jurian straightened himself and exhaled.

“Ready.”

“One, two, three, and- “ Elain began to hum the simple tune as she stepped to the side. She could feel Jurian’s heavy hand begin to clam up at her waist, “Now back, and left, good make a box.” She directed as Jurian carefully led her through the steps. It was a painfully slow pace, but Elain was proud of the progress Jurian had been making. “Wonderful, now let’s finish with a twirl?” Elain asked as she began to back up, Jurian flourished her hands as Elain began to rotate her feet.

“Stir the pot now! Keep your shoulders back!” At the last moment, Jurian’s clammy fingers lost their grip as Elain spun clumsily around.

“Sorry.” he mumbled as he wiped his hands along his tunic.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Elain laughed, “All the ladies will be wearing gloves and it will be so hot in the ballroom, you’ll be more worried about your armpits than your hands. I think that’s enough for today though,” she said pointed to the piano, “I’ll have you run through it with Vassa a few times tonight while I play along. But I think you’ve gotten the hang of it.”

“I’d better have. I won’t be doing this again.” Jurian said as he slunk down onto the sofa.

“You probably won’t, but it is a good skill to have,” Elain countered, “and you’ve been doing so well. Just one night, one ball, then you should be back to normal.”

Jurian nodded, tipping his head back, “I never thought those fancy dances would wear someone out so much. The thinking you must do, it’s ridiculous.” He blew a stray lock of hair back, while Elain sat down next to him.

Her new friends had found themselves in a more precarious situation since Elain arrived. Something was brewing, and the human lands would soon become collateral. In a final act of desperation, Jurian and Vassa were to formally present themselves to society and ask for financial backing and political loyalty, at a very frivolous and unnecessary ball that would be taking place the next night. As Fae, Lucien was not welcome, and Elain less so; Graysen made sure to tell everyone in her former circle what she was now. Even if she had wanted to go, she knew she’d be killed on the spot. So, she had taken it upon herself to coach Jurian on the intricacies of society, including the waltz.

“I suppose you don’t have any requests for dinner tonight. I’m running out of ideas,” Elain huffed as she swapped her heeled dancing shoes for her worn down slippers.

“Chicken and potatoes?”

“No, we had two nights ago.”

“What about some apple pie then?"

"Your teeth will rot out of your head if you keep on with the sweets. Besides, I don't have enough apples for that right now.” Elain said, slouched down against the back of the sofa.

She stared at the soft blue of her linen dress clashing with the loud pink of the velvet couch. It was really such a hideous combination; she thought as she drew lines on the velvet. Turning her head, she tapped Jurian on the shoulder.

“You’ve worked hard on the dancing, I’m really proud of you.” She said earnestly. They had been practicing the waltz for nearly a week and had poured over countless lists of names of nobility and wealthy in the human lands. Jurian hadn’t been joking about the ridiculous amount of thinking that had to be done.

Jurian smiled back at her, flinging his arm around her shoulders, “It helps I have such a good instructor. Much better than the red heads, I think.” Elain snorted, “We brunettes have to stick together.” He teased.

“My hair is actually dark blonde, just how long was your eye a ring again? Are you sure it’s not blind?” she shot back as they both erupted into laughter.

Elain felt some relief wash over her. Despite the rocky start, she found herself laughing more frequently these days. Jurian had become her daytime friend and companion, since Vassa took to the skies and Lucien was off doing whatever he did in the Spring Court. Sometimes she went days without seeing Lucien and she wasn’t sure if relief was how she felt about it anymore.

Elain couldn’t have come to the manor at a more awkward time. Frustrated and lonely at the Night Court, she left the River House three months ago without saying goodbye, just a vague note on the dining room table. Her sisters had moved on without her, adjusting to their fae lives with a confidence she never could master. Then, that brief flirtation with Azriel was squashed as quickly as it began, if there was truly anything at all. Now, when she thought of him, any lingering affection had been replaced with souring pity and annoyance. Elain had nothing to lose by leaving, she figured. She assumed she’d be turned away at the door since Lucien could barely tolerate her, if his awkward and slimy guilt and discomfort slinking down towards her through the bond at solstice had been any indication, but there was no avoiding it anymore. In the middle of the night, she had shown up at the door of the manor house with a handwritten book of visions she’d been having the past year about the lake and Koschei. Three pairs of surprised eyes stared back at her as she held out her notebook to them and by some miracle, let her in.

The first two weeks were torture, as Elain and Lucien seemed to go out of their way to avoid each other, but Elain quickly found a friend in Vassa, who Elain could honestly say was a person she did not realize how badly she needed in her life. She reminded Elain of her sisters in a way, yet she eased into a sort of closeness with Vassa that she didn’t quite have with her Nesta or Feyre. Perhaps because Vassa didn’t expect anything from her, except honesty. Jurian had become an unexpected ally, a far cry from the cold and calculating man who watched her be tossed aside like a broken toy. He was a sweet man underneath that gruff exterior.

Despite her newfound friends, Elain found herself at a crossroads. She had not come down to the manor just because of her visions about Koschei. She came down for him. The visions of her estranged mate were getting clearer with the passing days. The whispers she heard and the dreams she had been having in the Night Court were becoming more solid, more tangible things. She could almost feel his touch, his kiss. She felt nearly every emotion of his down the bond. Elain had seen their future in bits and pieces, and she wanted it. It had terrified her at first, she wasn’t ready. But she had finally admitted to herself the thing she had spent nearly a year denying; she was already halfway in love with Lucien.

She just had no idea what to do about it.

Slapping Jurian’s knee, Elain launched herself off the sofa, “Come on twinkle toes, help me scrounge up some food before our redheads get back.”

Lucien

Lucien watched the horizon as the sun sank behind the hill line. A halo of soft gold and pink stretched its long tendrils across the sky towards the east.

The colors reminded him of her.

The same beautiful female that sat in the house behind him, a whisper of a gold thread tying them together. If he followed it, he knew she'd be in the kitchen, looking at the same sunset at the window on the opposite side of the house. Lucien could picture her soft, small hands cradling her face, resting on her elbows while she watched pink and gold melt into violet and indigo. He could almost see the longing look on her face, he only wished he knew what it was she longed for. It certainly wasn’t him.

Lucien could not say why he spent his days out of the manor now that Elain was here. He thought he wanted nothing more than a chance, her time perhaps. Yet, Elain was guarded as ever towards him and he could not shake the discomfort and guilt that lingered in his bones. Elain eased around Jurian and Vassa, opening herself in a way that he never saw at the Night Court, what little he did see anyway. But around him, her smiles were awkward, and her sentences sputtered. He could feel hard nerves down the bond when they had to speak if he felt anything at all. Lucien had perhaps accepted the inevitable: Elain was only here to help Vassa, and once she was done, she would return to the Night Court. Swallowing his disappointment, he turned to the north, watching the flame in the sky get closer.

The firebird landed before him, dipping her long wings beneath her as she swept up into her human form. Vassa looked back at him with a wide grin, taking his arm.

“Welcome back!” she chirped, her lilting accent raising an octave, “The beast still bellowing around, or were you able to get rid of his ticks?”

Lucien barked out a laugh, his near daily nanny duties in Spring occupied most of his time. Tamlin wasn’t destroying anything anymore, but he wasn’t doing much else. Lucien dutifully reported to Rhysand, who mercifully stopped sending the Shadowsinger to collect his reports. Rhysand inquired after Elain a few times but hadn’t asked Lucien to bring her home. He wondered why, he knew Feyre and Nesta were livid about her departure. “Take care of her.” Rhys had told him sternly, making Lucien wonder just how much Rhysand really knew about the situation.

“Tamlin is fine. Sleeping most of the time, but no one has been poking around the borders. It’s too quiet.” Lucien mused as they headed back towards the manor.

Vassa stopped in her tracks, “You think something is coming.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, and soon.” He admitted. Elain coming down to the manor with a volume of her visions scrawled in her elegant writing shocked them all, though they knew time was running out. Koschei was coming back for Vassa, and Beron would be ready for a coup. As they approached the large wooden door, Lucien could smell onions cooking. Vassa moaned with hunger and skipped to open the door. Lucien took a breath and stepped into the kitchen.

Jurian was at the stove, stirring onions and mushrooms, while Elain pulled a loaf of bread out of the oven. Her curls escaped her kerchief, kissing the back of her neck and her cheeks were flushed over a small smile. Lucien’s heart clenched at the sight. An offering of food was an acceptance of the bond, but Elain did not cook it alone, and she had no intention of acceptance. He found his appetite disappear as he watched Elain hug Vassa. He crossed the kitchen to Jurian, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the simmering pan.

“Don’t overdo it. No one wants limp, slimy vegetables.”

Jurian rolled his eyes, “It’s called ‘caramelization’ princess, if you’d cook every now and then you’d know.”

“I only know how to eat. My soldiers do all my cooking, General.” Lucien replied as he swiped an onion from the pan and slurped it down.

“Does that make me a lieutenant, then?” Elain said softly as Lucien froze, turning towards her as she smiled at him.

“If Jurian is the General of the kitchen, am I the lieutenant?” she asked again, Lucien swore he saw a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“No, you’re not…I didn’t mean any offense, my lady.” He stuttered pathetically.

“Oh, I’m sorry. That was a terrible joke.” She said as red began to creep up her neck.

“Elain, you’re the general of the kitchen. I’m more of the lieutenant around here.” Jurian said mercifully. Elain nodded as she took the bread out of the room. Vassa followed, but not before she scoffed at Lucien, still staring dumbly at the swinging door.

“She was flirting with you, dumbass.” Jurian hissed, as he thwacked Lucien upside the head with an apron.

Read the rest on Ao3

Taglist: @andrigyn @octobers-veryown @ablogofbipanic @ofduskanddreams @wilde-knight @vulpes-fennec @foundress0fnothing @spell-cleavers @the-lonelybarricade @asnowfern @thelovelymadone @velidewrites @separatist-apologist @bellatrixship @cursebrkr @acourtdelaluna @millameazza @mossytrashcan @bennylavasbuns @werewolffprince @stickyelectrons @shisingh @popjunkie42-blog @amandapearls @damedechance @panicatthenightcourt @ineffable-resplendence @krem-does-stuff @kingofsummer93 @lithialetheia @lucienarcheron @wittyrejoinder @bagelfyre @iambutmortal @fieldofdaisiies @houseofhurricane @melting-houses-of-gold @carmasi @iftheshoef1tz

#elucien #elucienweek2023 #day 4 courtiers #THEE WALTZ FIC BABY #it's not what you think #it's also my first long fic

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qui-qui-quee · 7 months

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When you realize a lot of nonbelievers are super chill about sex because they don't think about it so much and are casual regarding the subject and/or performing it in and out of the marital relationship.

Meanwhile us Christians get anxiety when thinking about whether our sexual expression is sinful or not; we have entire talks on the subject of sex and its "holy" significance/relationship to marriage, constantly telling others what's good and bad in the marital bed, all because we place it at such a high standard.

Now tell me, who's obsessed with sex again?

#i swear i have a point for this #i kick hornet nests #it's not what you think #qooky rambles

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uncertainwallflower · 6 months

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Up and coming...

#it's not what you think #BTDATS #snippet #uncertainwallflower #between the desire and the spasm

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sebastian-ciel-shipping · 11 months

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It's not what it looks like!

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive #ciel x sebastian #sebastian x ciel #sebaciel #corset scene #it's not what you think #it's not what it looks like

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kaibutsu-kid · 3 months

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"I'm so fucked up..."

#dandadan #it's not what you think

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hopeless-nostalgiac · 2 months

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Weekend Tag

Tagged by the incomparable @mrsmungus

The rules are simple. Share the last sentence you wrote and tag as many people as there are words to play along, too. (Or tag more, tag less, I'm not the tag police.)

This is the fic I came back to last weekend, aka the first writing I'd done in two months.

Now it is his partner receiving the call, its unexpected cry piercing the veil of darkness over their bedroom, tearing the intertwined couple out of innocent slumber.

Tagging: @indestinatus @loudlooks @pro-bee @wanna-be-bold @television-overload @paperclipninja @benditlikepress @mrsmungus @earanemith

#tiva fanfiction #tat's writerly life #it's not what you think #it's october not february

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soweirdondisney · 9 months

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We miss you, Lee.

#the famous jett jackson #Lee Thompson Young #famous jett jackson #jett jackson #zoog disney #disney channel #youngstown #it's not what you think #jett jackson theme #intro jett jackson

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tronuskip666 · 1 year

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It was the swap challenge on Twitter, don't mind if I do!

👁️👄👁️

#cult of the lamb #cotl #cotl fanart #cult of the lamb fanart #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #narinder #lambert #narilamb #swap #it's not what you think #stop it 💀💀💀💀#fanart #I'M ALWAYS TWO STEPS AHEAD #TO HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

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walker-extended-universe · 8 months

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Walker Episode Bracket

1x18 "Drive" beat out yet another season 2 episode as we continue with the bracket. Up next is 2x04 "It's Not What You Think". Micki throws herself into her work to avoid her personal issues while the Walker family grapple with the knowledge that someone put cameras in their house. Liam's paranoia about the Davidsons leads to a fallout between him and Cordell, while Dan takes advantage of a tragedy to try and fix his relationship with Denise.

taglist: @ihavepointysticks

#walker #walker episode bracket #poll #fandom event #fandom fun #s01e18 #drive #s02e04 #it's not what you think

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summersnow82 · 13 days

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Oh, the Turtles You'll Meet: Part 7 of That Familiar Feeling

Or....

Leo does a deep dive into his counterpart's memories, and here we are. Enjoy.

Fanfiction_TMNT Bayverse/ 2003 crossover

Author’s note: Part 7 of That Familiar Feeling. Hello, my lovelies. Thank you for reading. I've got a few other fics I've been neglecting, so it may take a bit to get the next part written. Please bear with me.

.....

The first time they’d laid eyes on her she’d been an open wound; a massive, bloody, pulpy mess they could barely distinguish as female. The whirling vortex spit her out into the lab like it was trying to remove a bad taste from it’s mouth. Her body slapped against the ground, a motionless heap, and the portal closed; it’s business was complete.

The autodocs had their work cut out for them, and as Donnie was quick to note, had they been in another time with lesser technology they would’ve been burying a body instead of trying to heal one. It was weeks before she began to look human again, and even then Donnie cautioned against lowering the force field. Until she was stable he refused to move her.

“Do you think she’ll ever wake up?” Leo asked one morning as Donnie was running his ritual diagnostics.

“The autodocs have done some amazing work,” Donnie said, his hand waving over the tablet in his hand. “I think she’s got a chance.”

“I still say we shoulda dropped her at the hospital,” Raph grumbled. Leo said nothing, but he knew Raph was still grumpy over their experience with Dark Leo.

“She came out of a portal, Raph. That doesn’t intrigue you just a little?” Donnie asked.

Raph shrugged. “More like what happened to get her in that kinda condition in the first place. I mean, what the shell happened to her?”

No one answered that question. They’d seen a lot of terrible things, but nothing like the bloody pulp this woman had once been.

“Once she’s stable I’d like to get her cleaned up,” Donnie said. “The autodocs can only do so much.” He finally raised his eyes from his tablet. His voice sounded tenuous as he asked softly, “Any volunteers?”

Mikey was standing right outside the force field’s barrier. He’d been unusually quiet when it came to their mystery patient. “I’ll do it,” he said, raising a hand to signal Donnie’s attention.

It didn’t surprise any of his brothers when Mikey followed through on his word. Donatello had laid out several thick towels on a stainless steel operating table, and the brothers gingerly transferred their now stable but unconscious house guest onto the towels. Her clothes had been tattered and torn, and there wasn’t much left, so they placed more towels over her body to offer her some privacy. Mikey washed her hair until the water was no longer brown from the caked on blood, and he delicately sponged her body clean. They would later lie and tell her the autodocs were capable of this work to spare her modesty, but if you’d asked Michelangelo he would’ve told you there was nothing remotely arousing about caring for someone so badly abused.

His care for her didn’t end there, though. When she’d finally woken up he’d spent hours outside her locked bedroom door just rambling. He talked about the Silver Sentry, the Turtle Titan, skateboarding, the future, their home in New York, life in the sewers, his favorite pizza – anything to give her a sense she was safe. It was a well known fact people who want to kill you don’t sit outside your door reading you comic books.

At least, that’s what Mikey told his brothers when they’d ask just what the shell he was doing.

Sometimes Cody or Donnie would join him. They all took turns bringing her food, and speaking (or in Raph’s case grunting) through the door, but Mikey was the consistent one. He was the one who heard her crying, or groaning in her sleep, and all too often, he heard her scream. He promised himself then and there he was never going to let anyone else hurt her ever again.

Of course, Mikey was still naive enough to believe every promise made can be kept.

…………..

When she finally did come out of her room for the first time it was when she suspected everyone would be sleeping. She crept around the penthouse taking in her surroundings, and only forgot herself when she looked out the window. The futuristic New York skyline was nothing short of breathtaking, and it was even more incredible at night.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” She spun, pressing her back against the glass, and stared at Raphael. He’d seen the looks before; the fear, the confusion, the disgust. Something about the way this woman was staring at him felt different, though. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya,” he said gently, holding his hands up, and taking a few steps back. “Began to wonder if you were ever coming outta that room. Ya hungry?”

Her eyes narrowed in confusion, and she frowned. “Is this,” her voice came out broken and raspy from disuse, and she swallowed hard. “Is this real? This place? You? Me?”

Raph nodded. “Yup. ‘Fraid so. Not a big fan of the future, but here we are.”

Her frown deepened, and she looked down. “Future,” she murmured. She looked up quickly, her eyes wide with fear. “There was a man,” she started.

“No man. Not here. You don’t gotta worry about him hurting you again. Promise.” Raph clenched his fists as he spoke. He’d had plenty of time to stew over just what kind of torture leaves a human body looking like a bloody wad of meat, and he had strong feelings of retribution.

She shook her head, and he noticed she looked more upset now. “No. There was a man with me. Tall, blonde, blue eyes. He must be here. He has to be.” Her voice was still broken and cracked, but it was getting louder with the stress of her words.

Raph frowned. He wasn’t the best with emotions, and an emotionally distressed woman was out of his wheelhouse. “Listen, lady, I’m tellin’ ya you don’t have to worry about it. You’re safe. There’s no man here.” He took a step forward, and she slammed her back against the glass.

“No no no no no no no no no no,” she cried, thrusting a hand over her mouth to muffle her cries.

He froze, suddenly quite fearful himself. He’d experienced fear before – shell, sometimes he even liked it – but he’d never witnessed anyone this terrified. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya,” he whispered softly, desperately.

She was sliding down the glass window, biting her knuckles to muffle her cries. “He’s dead. Oh my gosh, he’s dead. He’s dead. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. Oh, God, please no.” Her pleas were rising in volume, and before he could react she bit her knuckle hard enough to draw blood, and let out a devastating wail. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she opened her mouth to scream again.

“Raph, what the shell?” Leo’s eyes were wide as he burst into the room with Splinter and Cody on his heels. Donnie and Mikey were seconds behind, and they all took in the woman before them in the throes of a full blown panic attack. “Miss?” Leo asked softly. He was moving slowly closer to her, and when she realized it she thrust out an arm, and scrambled away until she hit a corner in the wall.

“Don’t touch me, please don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me. Please don’t hurt me.”

“Leo,” Donnie cautioned.

“I won’t touch you,” Leo promised, crouching down to be on her level. “And we won’t hurt you. I promise.” She’d closed her eyes again, and was trying to get control over her labored breathing. “Our autodocs were able to heal you, but you’ve been out for weeks.” He tilted his head. No response. “Is there someone we can call for you?”

She shook her head, but refused to meet his eyes. “I need Sean. I need Sean. He has to be here, but he’s not which means he’s dead, which means they killed him too, which means…,” her voice broke off into a sob, and she buried her face in her hands. “I can’t do this without him,” she whimpered.

“I’m sorry,” Leo said gently. He felt helpless – what could he say to her?

“We could try to locate this Sean for you,” Donnie offered, and once again Leo was thankful his brother was so kind and gentle.

She shook her head. “If he’s not here… if he’s not here,” her voice broke again, and she tucked her knees up to her chin. “I can’t do this without him,” she repeated in a barely audible whisper before her sobs took control again.

………….

It was, unsurprisingly, Master Splinter who was able to calm her down. He moved slowly, kneeling down a foot across from her, and waited. When she did lift her head she gasped, hiccuped, and made a valiant effort to control her breathing. “You are safe here, Miss.”

She swallowed hard, wiped her nose on her sleeve, and nodded. “I know.” She hiccuped again. “Bad guys don’t save a nobody just to kill them later.”

Master Splinter tilted his head to the a touch. “I do not think you are a nobody. I do not think anyone here thinks that.” He paused. “I am called Splinter. These are my sons: Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, and Raphael,” he said, gesturing to each of the turtles. “And this,” he waved a hand towards Cody, “Is Cody Jones, our benefactor, host, and inventor of the technology that saved your life.” He looked back at her, a gentle smile on his furry face. “May I ask what we should call you?”

Her eyes darted to the side, and she gave a shaky exhale. “Sean says we shouldn’t use our real names. It’s not safe, and…,” she stopped herself, and ducked her head again.

Donatello’s brow furrowed. “Does this have anything to do with the whirling vortex that spit you out a few weeks ago?”

She blinked, surprised, and sat up a bit. “I landed here?” They all nodded, and she looked even more surprised.

“We arrived here in a… similar fashion,” Leo said.

“Time travel,” Cody added, moving closer.

She sat up straighter, and her grip relaxed a touch. “You too?” Again, they all nodded.

“Perhaps now you would feel comfortable sharing your name with us,” Master Splinter suggested, but she still seemed hesitant.

“My friends call me Belle,” she said softly, tucking her head back behind her knees.

“It is an honor to finally meet you, Miss Belle,” Splinter said, giving a small bow. “I know you have many questions for us, and we for you. Perhaps this conversation would be more pleasant at the table with some refreshments.”

“I am a little hungry,” she admitted, almost as if she were embarrassed by it.

“I imagine you are. Let’s see what we have.”

She was bashful requesting food, hesitant to lift her head to meet the eyes of those around her, and very wary of any potential contact. She answered questions slowly, cautiously, and as briefly as possible, so Splinter took the opportunity to tell her the story of how he came to be a single father of four turtles, how he named them, taught them, and how they came to be here in the year 2105.

“When your portal opened up there was a spike in the seismic readings. It was brief, and most wouldn’t think anything of it, but I could certainly run a report to see if there have been any other similar spikes. Maybe Sean came after you when it was safer,” Donatello offered. Her eyes remained lowered, but a small smile graced her pale, cracked lips.

“Yes, thank you. I would appreciate that.”

“So this Sean guy’s a friend?” Raph asked, cocking his head to the side. He still felt strangely protective of the meek woman sitting across from him.

“He’s my best friend,” she answered softly. “He’s family.” Mikey noticed how she seemed to shrink further into her chair, and the fat teardrops that rolled silently off her nose onto her clasped hands.

“Here.” He held out a tissue to her, and she swallowed hard, accepting it without meeting his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m not normally like this. Before…,” she choked, and ducked her head trying to regain her composure.

“What did they do to you?” Cody asked softly.

“Cody!”

“Dude!”

“I’m sorry,” Cody said. “I’ve just never seen anything like…,” he trailed off, realizing how his words sounded. “I’m sorry.”

“It is late,” Master Splinter said. “And such matters take time to discuss. Perhaps you will feel comfortable enough to share with us at a later time, but please do not feel pressured.”

She nodded. “I…um…I know I’ve been an inconvenience to all of you. I promise I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“An inconvenience?” Leo asked, arching an eye ridge, and exchanging looks with his brothers.

“We don’t have hair,” Mikey chirped. “I mean, Cody does, and Master Splinter has fur, but we don’t. Besides, a pretty girl like you is never an inconvenience.”

“I’m not pretty anymore,” she whispered. “Not after what he did to me.”

Again, the turtles exchanged looks, but no one spoke – they didn’t know what to say.

Finally, Cody said, “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to. It’s been pretty lonely with just Serling and me. I appreciate the company.”

Later, when she was better mentally and physically, she would tell Cody how much his offer meant to her. In that moment though all she could do was bury her face in her hands and cry from relief.

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