#now back to the roleswap au

[wooglebear]

My first CU OC that isn't for the Roleswap AU or ACIT.

This is Tilly Smith. She appears in my conceptual sequel to the First Epic Movie.

She's basically Melvinborg's right-hand man. Yes, Melvinborg shows up in this hypothetical sequel and he's the main antagonist.

I'd describe her as a "teenage" version of Dawn Bellwether (Zootopia), since this version of Melvinborg is basically a cyborg Evelyn Deavor.

Tilly's hairband is mostly so Melvinborg doesn’t accidentally erase himself from the timeline by fucking with the past. Things get really dicey when you directly tamper with your own past, so Tilly's hairband helps him a) not get erased just by existing near melvin and b) helps him circumnavigate paradoxes so he can actually do things.

Some notes for this version of Melvinborg.

the tetocu verse and the film universe are two different beasts, so this is melvinborg’s deal in this sequel.

Melvinborg realizes in the future ‘oh shit I never got into eliteanati’. So he goes back into the past and meets Melvin at the back of the school one day. They strike a deal that if Melvin can help Tilly hide under the guise of a normal student, Melvinborg will send Melvin to Eliteanati. The first act of the movie sees Melvinborg use his Vil Endenemys disguise while George and Harold attempt to uncover the mystery of the new "superintendent". Consider Vil Endenemys the Madame Frou Frou to Melvinborg's Snatcher.

He'd want to make sure that an alternate timeline where his younger self gets into his dream school becomes the main timeline- or what he sees as a Better Timeline - and try to set up the parameters for its existence but it goes sideways in some way.

Melvinborg is so dead-set on eliteanati that it actively shoots him in the foot.

During the first act of the movie, George and Harold are trying to run for class president. George wants to be class president, while Harold wants to be it too. They tell Melvin about all the changes they'll make to the class when they're class president, much to Melvin's disgust. To the horror of the boys and relief of Melvin, an annoyed Krupp vetoes the votes in favor of getting the new girl Tilly to be the class president instead.

During her facade, Tilly acts all calm and collected, sweet, gracious, and knows just the right words to say in almost any given situation. Even if she's a bit of a stalker.

But when she reveals her true nature… dear lord.

Turns out her nice nature is Fake As Hell, her purple eyes are contact lenses, and she is a teen who is completely full of herself and horrible as fuck.

Did I say "teen"? It's revealed that Tilly is actually 25 and lied about her age to everyone. She trades her salmon jacket for a white lab coat.

She reveals this nature by basically recreating this scene from TS3 (don't worry, there won't be an incinerator, or a dump):

Don't worry. Melvinborg will get his comeuppance and Tilly is going to get Exactly what she deserves... however, what I envision as what she deserves may differ from what happened to Poopypants in the first movie.

At the end of the movie George's like "I don't know which villain was worse, the Professor or Tilly." and Harold's like, "Probably Poopypants because him being alive and not in prison scares the hell out of me. At least he's tiny."

[moshaeu]

page for @havanillas roleswap au because i am foaming at the mouth for aven and his metaphorical luck ghost

[d0lty]

{MAIN QUESTS:}

○ FIND LINK

Photography by WorldofGwendana

Cosplay by me, decayed master sword & tattoos by @appycattcreations

[askdannysroleswapau]

Hey Gumball! What's your relationship with Rob? Like, are you two nemesis (nemesi? Nemesies?) Friends?

not fully satisfied with the word bubble placement on the second one but its late and i'm tired so i'm just gonna leave it lol

[r0achezz]

no boys night guys, new wind design just dropped.

[letters-to-rosie]

taking some inspo from @youmaycallmeyourhighness and doing a WIP Wednesday for heir (ap)parent:

“You didn’t even notice the lock was busted,” Ekko says with a laugh. “You were never gonna last in this thing.” His kneecap is next, sheerly for the pain of it. Finn’s urge to scream is cut short by his own anatomy, his now-cracked ribs shoving any cry he’d make back down his throat. After a blow to the stomach, he’s ready to beg, wheezing out slurred words of apology. It is, in a way, satisfying after those moments when Ekko truly thought he was going to die, and after the many more spent sitting in the hospital, listening to the beeping of the monitors and the nurses chatting in the hall and contemplating how he’d found himself in that bed—wondering, genuinely, if Beaumont power would trump Silco’s and he wouldn’t ever wake up any time he drifted off to sleep. There’s a part of Ekko that wants to be that benevolent side of the coin, the angel to Silco’s demon, but he knows not only that he’s on direct orders to drag Finn back to Zaun and make him pay but also that any goodwill, any mercy that’s been cultivated by his time spent with Powder and the people she’s surrounded herself with had run dry long ago. At least when it comes to this.

this probably won't get posted for a while because I have more chapters to write but wheeeeee here it is

[the-temple-of-light]

*clasps hands*

...So do I need to actually introduce this AU or can I just launch right into it-?

[kianamaiart]

rhrgrhrggr now I'm thinking about a roleswap au. I'm imagining zira being more planet themed than star themed as a magical girl (specifically Saturn cos I think their braids as rings would be so so so cool) and their story centering on them getting so caught up in this massive responsibility, having it go to their head a bit and neglect herself and her friends, but having aika there to bring her back down to earth and be like "ughhh that sounds like so much work. why would you wanna do that when we can get smoothies and make up fake rules for how to play pokemon"

(idk I'm mostly thinking about the design potential lol teehee)

magical zira would be so cuteeee

[goodlucktai]

now the darkness comes alive

rise of the tmnt movie canon divergence word count: 10k characters: raph & leo

welcome to a very self-indulgent roleswap au that i started dreaming up in my friend’s turtle discord. big thank you to rem for the song rec that gave me the insp to finish (and name!) the fic, and also to lake, sara and meeks for enabling my insane behavior <3

oh, now the darkness comes alive it comes for me and i come for you

—brother, the rural alberta advantage

read on ao3

x

The Krang’s spike pierces through plastron and flesh with a sickening crunch and Leo makes an awful punched-out sound. Raph is seconds too slow, and seconds is all it takes for his entire world to end. 

For the past two years, they’ve been at constant odds, Leo going out of his way to undermine and annoy him. Every interaction was laced with frustration, hurt, worry, confusion. Why are you being like this? Raph wanted to ask, wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake until an answer came out. What did I do to you?

It was a miserable way to live. Being angry at someone you love more than anything, having nowhere to put it down, forced to hold onto it and hold onto it and hold onto it. Every day another argument, every night laying awake and hoping that tomorrow would be different. 

He missed Leo. He missed how they used to be. He didn’t know why Pops’ announcement had turned them against each other. He hadn’t thought anything would be able to do that. 

Once or twice Raph had a moment of weakness and imagined what it would be like if he just quit. If he went to Splinter and told him he was done. Let someone else be the oldest, the biggest, the one who carried everyone else. But that thought was always followed instantly by another, louder one—how small would he feel if he didn’t have little turtles climbing on his back and sitting on his shoulders? How empty would his arms be if he didn’t have anyone to carry in them? 

That’s the whole point. That’s why he’s so afraid. That’s why being left alone drives him straight past anxious and into a blackout. He can’t lose them. He can’t lose them. He can’t lose them. 

And now he’s living his worst nightmare. He’s living outside his own body, watching from somewhere else. It doesn’t feel real. 

His little brother, his little Leo, crumpled beneath him, blood staining bright blue an ugly rust color. His chest is heaving as if each breath hurts and his eyes are wide and wet. He’s gazing up at Raph like they’re children again. It’s the way he looked when he was afraid of a thunderstorm or he was about to get in trouble and he needed Raph to make it better. He always looked at Raph first. 

The monsters behind them are laughing. One of them starts talking, the sound coming closer at a leisurely pace. They aren’t safe. Leo is bleeding. Raph is afraid to touch him, shaking hands hovering over his cracked plastron. He doesn’t know what to do. His mind is white with panic. 

He has the escape pod in his hand, not yet activated. He doesn’t know if it’s safe to use it. Leo is skewered to the ground, pinned like a butterfly to corkboard. Donnie’s tech is highly intuitive, all of it programmed into S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s AI infrastructure, and maybe the pod would know to account for the particulars of the situation, but there almost definitely isn’t a way to remove Leo safely in the seconds they don’t really have to work with. 

Leo blinks, and the wetness in his eyes spills out, and Raph just wants to pick him up. Carry him somewhere safe. Leo has always been larger than life, but right now he looks impossibly small. 

“Hey, hey,” Raphael soothes, the same way he has a thousand times before, after bad dreams and skinned knees, “you’re okay. Raph’s here, you’re okay.”

Those gold eyes slide to the side, looking at a point behind Raph. Leo’s arm moves, and something cold and solid presses against Raph’s chest. It’s the key, and Leo’s hand is trembling so hard that Raph’s closes around it instinctively, taking the weight of it from him. 

Because he’s Leo, the corners of his mouth quirk into a smile. 

“I told you,” he says hoarsely. It somehow manages to sound wry, like they’re in on a joke together. “I got it.”

Then he uses the hand that Raph isn’t holding to activate the escape pod lingering between them and pushes it those scant few fatal inches forward. Raph doesn’t realize what the beep means until the pod unfolds in front of him and yanks him unceremoniously away from his brother.

“No,” Raph says, light-headed with fear, “no!” 

But a machine couldn’t possibly understand the wrong it was doing. What it was leaving behind. Raph pummels the inside of the pod hysterically but without his ninpo he can’t do enough to damage something Donnie built specifically to safeguard their family. It lifts him up and away and Leo’s crooked little smile gets smaller and smaller until it’s gone.  

——

When the pod touches down in the lair and releases him, the world around Raph is strangely muffled. There’s a ringing in his ears. He thinks he can hear voices but it’s all just noise. Nothing fully clears the chaos in his own head. 

Donatello is directly in front of him, and his hands are white-knuckled on the side of an empty blue pod. He looks like he already knows something went very wrong. His eyes are bright gold, a mirror of his twin’s, and the quiet fear in them places Raph directly back inside the warehouse, surrounded by monsters, too late to protect anyone, Leo’s blood on his hands, Leo looking up at him— 

Raph’s stomach lurches and he turns sharply away. His gaze lands on Casey Jones instead, who appraises him warily in turn, slim shoulders going stiff beneath the battered Genius Built armor. 

“Leo went back for the key,” Raph says, his voice a deep growling thing that cuts through the noise and brings down a curtain of stillness. He holds the stupid thing out, and if it were made of anything less than strange alien stone, his grip would have crushed it into pieces. Casey’s eyes drop to it and brighten, like it’s a good thing that it’s here even though Leo’s not. Relief floods every inch of his face until he looks even younger than he did already. 

“He got it,” the boy says reverently, taking it in both hands. “I knew he would.”

Raphael wants to scream. He wants to step back and let some other version of himself take the reins while he finds a hole to cry in. He doesn’t want to turn at his father’s firm call of his name or force himself to lift his chin until Splinter can meet his eyes and find all the miserable failure festering inside him, but he does. 

April is looking around and behind Raph, her eyes jumping to the red pod still standing open and then back again, as if finally noticing that Leo wasn’t tucked in there, too. As if it is only just occurring to her that there is a universe that exists where Raphael leaves Leonardo behind, and it’s this one, and it’s horrible. 

Donnie might as well be carved from stone, but Mikey is starting to get worked up, looking between everyone else with huge red eyes, trying to hear the thing they’re all not saying.

“He went back for the key,” Raphael says again, choking the words out. “I couldn’t—I wasn’t fast enough to—”

He clenches his fists and it drags his siblings’ attention to the blood on them. April covers her mouth and Mikey takes in a breath so sharp it must cut and Donnie starts to flap his hands. Splinter closes his eyes, looking as though he’s aged about a hundred years in the last few minutes. 

“What? That’s not possible,” Casey interjects as if he can’t help it. The young soldier glances around the room, like Leo is going to pop up from behind the turnstiles and rib them all for being so gullible. “Master Leonardo is the greatest ninja the world has ever seen, he wouldn’t just—”

“He’s not master anything!” Raph only barely manages not to roar. “He’s a sixteen-year-old kid!”

Casey flinches away from his anger and Raphael brutally wrestles it into submission. It’s not doing any good here. Casey is a kid, too. 

“Raph,” Mikey blurts, too loud and too fast, “is Leo dead?”

The word sucks the air out of the room and Donnie makes a noise like he’s been kicked in the stomach and Raph says, “No. No, Angie, he’s alive.” 

Even though their ninpo is locked away, and with it that subconscious knowledge of each other always lingering comfortably in the back of their minds like a warm afterthought, Raph knows they would know if Leo was gone. They would be able to tell. The world would be fundamentally changed, nothing would ever be the same again. 

He puts his hands on Mikey’s shoulders and adds, “We’re gonna bring him home.” 

The plan isn’t much of one, but their resident schemer is very much not present, and no one questions Raph when he lays it out. Donnie robotically admits that he has the means to track Leo, so the turtles and Future Boy are going to head that way and retrieve him, while Splinter and April babysit the key. 

“Use the shell hogs and just keep moving for now,” Raph says. “They have something we want, we have something they want.”

April nods, grimly understanding. If the only Hail Mary shot they have of getting their brother back is handing over the key and finding an opening to steal it back later, that’s just what they’ll have to do. 

Pops abandoned the Hamato Clan’s teachings in the first place because he didn’t agree with their preachings of self-sacrifice and martyrdom. He handed over the final piece of the dark armor without flinching when his sons’ lives hung in the balance. Even if the rest of their ancestors wouldn’t understand, Raphael does. 

He remembers the jar of oozesquitos he held onto once, trying—and failing—to call Draxum’s bluff. He may be a slow learner, but he only needs to be taught the lesson once. 

Leo risked his life to return this key to his family, so Raph is going to fight for it like an insane person for as long as it makes sense to. But if it comes down to abandoning one to save the other…

He’s his father’s son. He knows which choice he’ll make. 

——

In the Turtle Tank, Mikey and Donnie distract themselves on the trip to Metro Tower station by peppering Casey with questions about the future. The human answers readily, describing Master Donatello’s technological genius—holding out his arms so the entirety of his battered, cyberpunk-style kit is on display—and going on at length about Master Michelangelo’s mystic prowess. 

“I could fly?” Mikey squeaks, drumming his hands on the dash rapidly. “Was it cool?” 

“The coolest,” Casey is quick to agree. “And you opened a portal that sent me through time.”

But the warmth in Casey’s eyes doesn’t last very long, fading into something that looks uncomfortably like grief instead. He tends to look at all of them like that, like he’s in a room full of ghosts. 

He darts a sidelong glance in Raph’s direction and quickly faces forward again, staring out the windshield from Leo’s seat. He’s avoided speaking to him as much as possible, and Raphael can, unfortunately, put two and two together. 

Casey is familiar with everyone else—even April and Splinter—but he dances around Raph as if he’s a stranger. He didn’t know Raph in the future, he knew of him—someone to be respectful of and fall in line for, but certainly not one of the uncles he could brag about to their younger selves. 

When the Tank has gone as far through the tunnels as possible, drawn to a stop at a massive tangle of alien vines, they get out and continue on foot. Raph can feel his little brothers walking as close to him as they can without outright admitting that they’re unnerved, all of their guards completely up, senses dialed to eleven. 

The underground is home to them, always has been, and generally speaking if you’ve seen one subway tunnel you’ve seen them all. But the floodlights from Donnie’s battleshell illuminate a scene that looks like it belongs on another planet. Impossible masses of pink-purple mess dangle everywhere like Halloween store decorations, and the subway cars have been upended off the rails and twisted out of shape. 

Casey’s mask is down, the lenses glowing green as he prowls forward without missing a beat. If he came here from a future where the Krang won, Raph can only imagine what the New York City he grew up in looked like. 

“I hate to be painfully obvious, but since my other half isn’t present, I suppose it falls on my shoulders,” Donatello says after a moment, the sardonic tone of voice at odds with his very low register. “Something feels off.” 

He’s barely got the words out when hundreds of little lights blink at them from the jungle of purple vines—not lights, glowing eyes. The silent tunnel explodes into chaos a second later as they’re ambushed by parasite-controlled people and creatures and even objects. 

Raph and Casey are neatly separated from Donnie and Mikey within a manner of minutes. Raph’s heart is in his throat as he pummels through wave after wave of the infected, and it doesn’t settle until he hears on the comms that his little brothers have taken shelter in the Tank. 

He and Casey are pushed farther and farther away, chased down one of the tunnels by an animated subway car on what looks like spidery crab legs, towards a dead end. When Raphael feels the ground start to give beneath them, he acts on seventeen years of big brother instinct and very little else, seizing Casey around the middle and curling around him completely as they fall. 

It’s a dizzying, topsy-turvy couple of minutes, falling from the subway tracks into a maintenance tunnel underneath, and it takes awhile for his ears to stop ringing. He glances down at the human in his arms and notes with relief that Casey seems to be okay–tucked up small and compact against Raph’s plastron, all limbs accounted for, in such a practiced way that Raph thinks he’s been protected in exactly this manner more than once before. 

Neither of them speak right away, coming down from the rush of adrenaline and waiting for the shifting of crumbled concrete to stop and the dust to clear. Raph’s shell was made of sturdy stuff even before he became a chaotic alchemists’s bioengineering experiment, so when he’s certain they’re relatively safe, he pushes off the ground with his hands and lets the debris roll harmlessly off his back and shoulders. 

“Are you hurt?” Raph asks, sitting back to give Casey room to collect himself. 

“Um, no,” Casey says, tugging his cape down from where it had caught around one of his pauldrons. He doesn’t look uncomfortable, but more like he doesn’t really know what to do with himself now that it’s just the two of them, looking up at Raph and then away again. 

Raph can’t help it. He says, “I died, didn’t I? In the future.”

Casey jerks, as if he was surprised to be asked so plainly. Then his shoulders hunch, and he nods. 

“You all did,” he says haltingly. “Uncle Tello when I was thirteen, and sensei and Uncle Angie just… just before I got sent back.” 

Cold dread slams into Raph’s stomach. He doesn’t want to believe he and his siblings could ever truly be divided, but the proof is sitting in front of him. It’s hard to hear that the end of the world managed to take Raph from his little siblings. Donnie from his twin. That Leo and Mikey were left all alone, with a kid to take care of, and a losing war to fight. 

Casey swallows hard, and curls his hands into fists, visibly forcing himself past the loss that probably sits in his stomach and throat like barbed wire. 

“But you—it happened when I was little. I wasn’t really old enough to remember you.” Each word mincing and careful, he goes on, “Growing up, sensei talked about you all the time. He used to say you were the best—best brother, best leader. And he was so afraid when Master Splinter put him in charge, because he had no idea how to be as good as you. He didn’t want things to change, he was happy being your right-hand man. Sensei made it sound like he was really childish about the whole thing. He said he must have been a real disappointment.”

Raphael absorbs the words like a blow. 

Leo, his little brother, his little star, outshining everyone and pulling the world into his orbit, earnestly giving them the light and warmth they needed to live and grow and flourish, a disappointment?

Raph has been angry with him more times than he can count. Hurt by him, even, because that’s what people tend to do when they don’t understand each other. Frustrated and antagonized and fed-up, sure. But disappointed?

He has a shining, crystalized memory of being a child, no more than eight years old, crying over a picture book because the monster in the book looked like him. It was big and hulking, with dangerous-looking spikes and an alligator tail. Raph hadn’t realized Leo had found him until tiny hands took the book away and a serious little face, not yet grown into its stripes, assessed the situation. 

Even back then, Leo was too clever for his own good. He tossed the book on the floor and said, “They got it wrong. That author must not have ever seen any real monsters if they can mess up that bad. Who let them write a book?”

Raph was hardly able to see through his tears, making a distressed rumble in his chest, but his arms opened automatically. Mikey was in a phase where he had decided he was too big to be carried and Donnie had a hot-and-cold relationship with touch that his siblings all knew to maneuver carefully, but Leo absorbed any and all affection like a hungry little plant soaking up sunlight. He climbed right into Raph’s hug and his arms looped around Raph’s neck and hung on fiercely. 

“My Raphie is a better hero than all those knights and princes and wizards anyway,” Leo had said with conviction so huge it was better suited to someone five times his size. “I have the real deal. I should be the one writing books!”

From then on, Leo vetted any and all shared reading material that made it down to the lair before allowing it to be distributed with a very grown-up gravitas. Some things went straight to Donnie or Mikey’s rooms, or back into the garbage if Leo was feeling vicious about it that day, and no one ever said a word about it. 

About three months ago, April had brought them a bundle of the subscriptions they got mailed to her apartment, and Leo picked up a comic that came for Raph and started to flip through it like they were seven and eight years old again. He caught himself too late and looked embarrassed, sliding it across the counter and quickly making his escape, but Raph felt warm all the way down to his bones. That was proof his Leo was still in there, that he still cared, despite doing his best, for some reason, to convince everyone he didn’t. 

His Leo, who always cared. Who cared too much. 

Casey gives Raph another one of those searching, sideways glances, there and gone again. 

“Sensei said he let you down once and he never wanted to do that again. He said he would live the rest of his life making up for it, making you proud. Is—is this what he was talking about?”

Raph looks at the boy in front of him, Leo’s kid from a future that doesn’t exist yet, wearing tech his Uncle Tello must have meticulously built to outlast everything else, Uncle Angie’s smiley faces etched into the knee guards in a pop of silliness that somehow still existed in the apocalypse, his sensei’s red stripes painted proudly front and center on his mask. He carries his family with him with every step he takes.

It’s no wonder Casey is so cagey around him. If he was raised even in part by Leo, then he was probably raised on stories of Raph that only painted the good and the funny parts of the bad, because that’s how Leo loves. And it left Casey to reconcile how everyone’s hero Raphael could have ever thought poorly of Casey’s hero Leonardo. 

“Sounds like that sensei of yours had no clue what he was talking about half the time,” Raph say gruffly. “Raph may wanna pick up him and rattle him like a snowglobe about a hundred times a day but that’s just the Leo Effect. Ask anybody.” 

Casey blinks up at him, one corner of his mouth giving into a reluctant smile. “Commander O’Neil said that before,” he admits. 

“Now her you can listen to any time of day or night, because she’s never wrong,” Raph says, pushing himself upright and offering Casey a hand up, too. “Leo could never do anything to make me love him less. It kind of seems impossible after a lifetime together, but I actually only keep finding reasons to love him more.”

Sliding his much smaller hand into Raph’s huge one, Casey lets himself be tugged to his feet. He’s gazing up at Raph with wide eyes, tugging on the wrist of one glove absently. 

“Leo is as silly as they come,” Raph says. “He needs practical people like you and me in his life to set him straight.”

All at once, Casey’s face brightens, glowing from the inside out. His spine straightens, shoulders going back. It’s every inch Leo’s expression when he receives honest praise from his family in any direction. And Raph realizes abruptly that at least part of the reason Casey has been so nervous around him is because he doesn’t want to disappoint his father’s hero, either. 

——

They find a maintenance shaft and climb the rest of the way out of the tunnels, regrouping with the whole clan in the Metro Tower station. Donnie brings Leo’s location up on a screen and they all huddle around him—falling silent after a moment as they take in what the tracker is telling them. 

“He’s right—right on top of us,” Donnie says haltingly. “He should be—”

April seizes his arm and he cuts himself off mid-word. With a sense of dread, Raph follows her wide eyes across the room. 

Leo is standing there, watching them. He’s been standing there the whole time. Unmoving, completely silent, and covered in the same squishy, fleshy pink parasitic slime that every other infected they’ve encountered up until now has been manipulated by. There’s a mass of it concealing the lower half of his face like one of the respirators Mikey wears for his spray paint projects, baring dozens of large serrated teeth in a sneer. 

Leo’s eyes are pink, the pupils slitted. If Raph couldn’t see him breathing, he wouldn’t know for sure if he was even alive. 

“Leo?” Mikey calls out in a warbling voice, hands trembling. “Can you hear us?” 

It doesn’t get a reaction. 

Raph takes one slow, careful step towards him.

That gets a reaction. 

Leo explodes into motion so quickly it doesn’t make sense, going from zero to a hundred in seconds. He slams into Raphael with the force of a freight train, sparks flying from where his blades meet the sai Raph only barely manages to throw up in time. 

Their siblings scatter, Donnie yanking Mikey firmly behind him, April putting out an arm to keep Casey back, too. Splinter dives in to help his oldest son, the two of them fighting to subdue but not to injure, hyper-aware of the cracks in Leo’s plastron and the matching wound on his shoulder. The last thing Leo’s father and big brother want to do is hurt him any more. 

Leo doesn’t give them an inch of the same consideration, as cold and methodical as a knife. His swords are fully in action, a very present danger to the rest of them, singing and sweeping with fatal precision. 

They’re only fighting for minutes, even though it feels like hours, when Raphael feels it. An insistent tugging on the front of his mind. He and Leo are locked together, swords caught for a moment in the guards of Raph’s sai, and Raph spares a daring second to look into his possessed brother’s pink eyes. 

They glow white instantly, a successful connection. Leo’s mind pours into Raph’s like a flood. 

Take them take them TAKE THEM TAKE THEM TAKE THEM 

As if moving on autopilot, Raph’s hands fly to Leo’s wrists and wrench—not hard enough to sprain, but hard enough that the slider’s grip flies open and the katana clatter to the ground. Leo rips himself free and darts back to give himself room for the next attack. He makes no move to recover the swords and Raph scoops them up a second later, heart pounding. 

It was so quick, so clean, that no one watching from the outside would be able to guess what had just happened. Leo surrendered his weapons to his family in the only way he possibly could, begging with his whole body to be disarmed before he hurt anyone, so desperate for Raph to hear him that he triggered a mind meld for the first time in two years.  

The room comes alive, infected creatures spilling inside and surrounding them all, punching up through the floor from the tunnels they had just escaped from. A subway car covered in pink slime rears back and roars like a beast. Leo moves through the crowd of Hamato like water. The only one he touches is April, a brush of their shoulders together.

She makes a distressed noise in the back of her throat, hand flying to her bag where the key is. Where it was.  

Leo has it in his hand, facing them with unseeing eyes. The grotesque, fleshy mask covering his mouth twists into a stranger’s ugly smile. 

Raph thinks, No wait. It’s not supposed to happen like this. 

They’re not supposed to lose. 

April uses her bat to knock the rest of the deforestation chemicals toward the Krang, causing an explosion that stalls the hoard of infected just long enough to create an escape route. Donnie scoops Mikey’s shell into his arms and Splinter has to tuck a hand around both Casey and Raphael’s elbows and yank to get them moving. Casey doesn’t make it easy.

He must know a losing fight when he sees one. He must be familiar with this scene from the world he came here from. But he struggles anyway, eyes locked without blinking on the shape of a Leo they’re leaving behind. 

Raph wants to struggle, too. He wants to stay behind and fight until he can’t lift his arms or stay on his feet. He wants his lost little brother to know someone’s fighting for him, that someone will keep fighting for him for as long as it takes. 

But responsibility perches heavy on his shoulders. More than one person is depending on him. It’s the hardest thing he’s ever done to let himself be pulled one step away, then another. It hurts more than every single other thing he’s survived. 

“Raph’s coming back for you,” he calls out, voice thick, swords weighing a hundred pounds each in his hands. “Hear me, Leo? Raph’s coming back.”

Leo doesn’t give any impression that he heard. He turns at some silent command and walks away, taking the key with him. The Krang got what they came for. 

——

Kneeling on a rooftop, watching the Technodrome come through a hole in the sky and rain destruction down on their city, Raph finds himself thinking I wish Leo was here. 

It’s a stupid thought to have, because Leo being there would solve a very large part of the whole problem. But specifically, Raph finds himself wishing he had his clever, charming brother at his side, who always knew what to say. Who always had an idea. Who understood exactly how to reach out to people and lift their spirits, rekindle their hope. Leo isn’t the strongest of his brothers, or the fastest without his ninpo, or the smartest next to Donatello, but that doesn’t mean he can’t outshine the rest of them in his own way. 

He’s always been the one they followed, really. It just so happened he was always going the same way Raph was. 

“He was happy being your right-hand man,” Casey said. 

How could Raph have misunderstood him so completely? How could he have just left him behind, twice now? What if it becomes a pattern? What if Leo thinks this is all he can expect from them? 

Raph’s family is arguing behind him, unwilling to accept their failure but unable to see any path ahead to victory. It certainly looks hopeless. New York City is burning, people are screaming, parasites and infected are filling the streets by the dozens. 

A familiar hand lands on his arm. Raph feels like he’s wading chest-deep through mud, but he manages to turn his head and look down into Mikey’s big red eyes. 

“What did Leo say earlier?” Mikey asks in a small voice. “I sort of felt it when you connected but I couldn’t hear either of you.”

“It was like being aware of people talking in another room,” Donnie adds, leaning into Raph from the opposite side. “You can just make out the cadence of their conversation but no words come through clearly.”

Raph looks down at his hands, the katana he’s still holding. He rubs his thumb over the guard on one, remembering Leo’s glowing pride the first time he manifested them. He felt so buoyed by Leo’s smile in that moment that he could have fought the Shredder a hundred times over and won. 

I miss you, he thinks. I miss having you on my team. 

“He wanted me to take these,” Raph says. “He was really scared of what he might do with them.”

Donnie’s golden eyes are very sharp, staring without blinking at the only proof of his twin with them here on the outskirts of the apocalypse. Behind the turtles, Splinter and April are still going back and forth with each other, but Casey’s voice has tapered into silence. 

“What else did he tell you?” Donnie asks abruptly. 

“Nothing,” Raph replies, numb.

“C’mon, Raphie,” Mikey says, mustering a sweet smile for him, even though smiling is probably the last thing in the world he feels like doing. “Our Leo? Keeping it brief? I’ll bet he had a hundred things he was trying to say.”

“Let us in,” Donnie says, pressing his head a little harder into Raph’s arm. Dogged and determined, fully ready to dig in with his teeth and not let up until he gets his way. “Let us see.”

Raphael is exhausted, and hurting, and missing the absent piece of their whole so keenly that he could lay down right here and cry for days. But the one thing he’s never been able to do is deny his little brothers anything they care enough about to ask for this earnestly. 

“Okay,” he says and sets Leo’s swords in front of him carefully. With his hands open, Donnie and Mikey each seize one in both of their own, and Raph tries to center himself. 

The first time Raph and Leo did this, it was well before they had fully realized their ninpo. He doesn’t need the mystic powers they’ve come to rely so much on to recognize the brilliant purple lightning and laughing orange bonfire on the fringes of his mind and let them both in. 

The lightning and the bonfire both skirt familiarly over the steadfast red mountain that makes up their eldest brother, at home together. They all feel the painful absence of a mischievous blue wind so strongly that it takes their collective breath away. 

The mountain guides them to the things the wind had given him. Above everything else, fear—of what’s happened and what hasn’t happened yet, fear of the parasite wriggling inside him, fear of his own two hands, fear of failing his family even more than he already has—

Stop, the bonfire says, burning warm and bright. Focus. 

The lightning strikes forward, knowing the wind better than the rest of them from a lifetime of sharing the same sky. It follows the wind’s twists and turns unerringly, illuminating the way in thunderclaps until it’s possible to break past the dark storm of fear entirely.

Behind it there are a hundred other things. Stubbornness and bitterness, a familiar grit that comes from being on the losing side and refusing to give up anyway. Anxiety that his efforts won’t be enough. Love, as deep and rich and unknowable as an ocean. Regret. Loneliness. Hope. 

Take them, the wind had said in the fleeting seconds it had to say anything at all, shoving as many secrets forward as it could. Take this and this and this and this. 

Leon, you devious little creature, the lightning says, with scorching pride and mean-spirited glee. 

It goes both ways, the bonfire cackles. The Krang can see into Lee’s head, but Lee can see into the Krang’s head, too!

This is it, the mountain realizes. This is how we win.  

——

Galvanized, the Hamatos split up one more time. Casey, April and Splinter to get the key back and keep the Krang occupied, and Raph, Mikey and Donnie to save Leo. 

Once Raph and his brothers are inside the Technodrome, they all understand exactly where to go. Everything the Krang knows about how to operate his ship, Leo knows, through that unwanted window between their minds. And everything Leo knows, he shunted as hard and fast as he could into Raph’s brain, hidden in a tangle of emotion so thick that it went entirely undetected by the parasite riding along. And since Raph shared the knowledge with the other two, Donatello could probably pilot this weird spacecraft blindfolded with one hand tied behind his back.   

Mikey is swinging one of his ‘chucks restlessly, ready for whatever fight comes his way first. He’s already a force to be reckoned with on a good day. He’s a walking natural disaster on a bad one, up there with hurricanes and tornadoes. 

And this is definitely a bad one. It’s the worst day they’ve ever had. 

“Dee’s got the ship and I’ve got Dee,” Mikey says firmly, sounding much older than he did this time yesterday. “You get Leo.”

Raphael moves with ninja stealth and speed, picking his way through the halls. It smells awful, like raw meat left out in the sun, and in the gloom it almost seems as though the walls and floors are squirming. 

From what Leo gave him, Raph knows better than to hope he and his siblings can go undetected for very long. The ship is almost a living organism itself, and can probably feel each step of progress Raph is making toward the bridge. 

It doesn’t slow him down. Every second Leo spends here is a second too long already. 

The maze-like halls open up into a cavernous dome, where a catwalk stretches toward a huge bulbous window. Outside, Raph can see a panoramic view of Manhattan engulfed in fire. It looks like a warzone. The air leaves his lungs in a rush. 

It’s Raph’s city, the place that raised him, and for the first time in his life it’s hard to look at. 

His hindbrain pings to awareness a split-second before he hears the movement of metal against metal, and Raph spins around to look up at General Krang. 

He’s seated in a throne on a dias, a smug, toothy smile on his face. Leo is standing like a statue at his feet, this tiny slip of green and pink and muddied blue. His discolored eyes gaze listlessly forward into nothing. 

Little Leo, who always wanted to be carried. Little Leo, who hunted down each and every opportunity to make his brothers laugh. Little Leo, who wanted so badly to be even just half as important to them as they were to him. Little Leo, who Raph wouldn’t know how to begin to live without. 

“You again,” the Krang says. “Nothing smart to say? This one wouldn’t shut up until I improved him. And here I thought it was just an unfortunate hallmark of your species.”

Raphael sees red at the way the wicked metallic fingertips of the Krang’s armor cage Leo’s head and jostle it carelessly, like he’s nothing but a cheap toy. Raph bares his teeth, a furious rumble in his chest, but doesn’t dare to say a single hateful word while Leo’s life is literally held in the Krang’s hand. 

“You probably would have made a much more impressive puppet, with all that brute strength,” the Krang goes on. “Oh well. All in due time.”

The alien must give a nonverbal order, because he retracts his hand and Leo springs forward. 

He doesn’t have his swords anymore, since they’re strapped to Raph’s shell for the time being, but the pink slime has trailed down his arms and tapered into two sharp points that he wields like knives instead. 

They meet in a ringing clash, Raph catching the pink knives with his sai. 

“I know you’re in there,” Raph says. “I know you don’t want to hurt me. It’s okay, Leo. I’m gonna make it okay.” 

The way Leo fights is vicious. He’s fast and he knows where to hit. There’s no joy in his body, no cocky gleam in his eye. Raph can’t help bu remember the way his mind felt when they connected so briefly earlier—the surround-sound of wailing panic and self-hatred, confined behind a stranger’s cold expression. 

Bearing down on his little brother, forcing him to his knees, Raph chokes out, “I’m not leavin’ you behind this time. I’m not goin’ anywhere without you ever again.”

“Empty promises seem to run in your family,” the Krang sneers. 

“He doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about,” Raph says through gritted teeth. “Don’t listen to him. Just listen to me.”

“Don’t I? Let’s ask the others, shall we?”

Black vines shoot up from the organic mass that makes up the floor of the bridge. Donnie and Mikey are suspended inside them, fighting like animals—Mikey in particular is using language that there is no way Splinter knows he knows. 

“You thought I wouldn’t notice vermin slinking around in my ship?” the General asks. “Is this really the best the three of you can do?”

Leo is scratching and clawing at Raph’s hands, trying to break free of him at any cost. Raph is much bigger and much stronger than he is, and it hurts to hold him down like this, but he knows it would be so much worse to let him go. 

“This whole time, we just weren’t listening to each other,” Raph says, lowering his voice. Everyone else can probably still hear, but he wants Leo to know Raph is talking to him. “Somehow, I convinced myself you didn’t care, when I know better. You care so much it makes the inside of your head a nightmare to live in. The only thing you think about is being good enough for us.”

Leo finally manages to twist free, Raph releasing his arms at the last second when it becomes clear the parasite doesn’t care if its host’s elbow or shoulder gets dislocated. Leo rolls away and comes up on one knee, hand braced beneath him, the other white-knuckled around a knife. 

He can hear the Krang becoming agitated, because Mikey and Donnie refuse to be still. The vines holding them snap and give one after another, faster than they can be replaced. There’s something stirring inside of Raph, too, a fire in his chest that wants to roar to life. 

Leo strikes again. Despite everything, even with all the horrors they’re surrounded by, Raphael wants to smile. 

When they started training together, Leo was the first of the four of them to perfect a technique. Raph lifted him up onto his shoulders in victory and let him crow about it for the better part of an hour, flushed with joy and pride. Since then, Leo has never once landed that particular move wrong. 

An outsider wouldn’t clock that he placed his hand nearly four inches too far to the left, but Raphael knows those four inches made a fatal difference between a bad puncture wound and a severed artery. 

Leo has no true autonomy left but there’s a sliver of him awake behind the wheel. He’s still fighting tooth and nail in there. 

There isn’t any force in the entire goddamn universe prepared for how tricky and stubborn Raph’s little brothers can be. 

“I’m listening now, Leo,” Raph says, alight with how much he loves him. “I’m here. You’re not alone. You’ll never, ever be alone.”

Leo strains forward, dropping the knife and grabbing at Raph’s arm instead. Between one blink and the next, his eyes go from pink to shining gold. 

Raph seizes him, holding his face in the cradle of both hands, his heart soaring around in his chest like a bird. 

“Yes! That’s it! Come on back, big man, Raphie’s got you!”

With a slam, Leo goes to his knees, scrabbling desperately at the fleshy mass on his face. His fingers dig into the slime, but he can’t get a solid enough grasp to tear himself free. His chest is heaving, whole body shaking. He’s fighting so hard but it’s not quite enough. 

And Raph’s ninpo reacts to a sibling in distress the way it did when Raph used it for the first time, breaking past the Krang’s seal like it’s nothing. It surges forward in the shape of a river, finding the familiar place inside of Leo where his connection to their ancestors lives, and making a temporary home there. Raph’s armor limns his brother in rosy red, swelling from underneath his skin in a powerful flood and pushing the parasite out. It loses every inch it had to cling to while Leo continues to pull. 

Finally the worm is ripped completely away, shrieking as it goes, and Leo gasps. He drops the squirming creature and scuttles away from it, gulping in unobstructed air. The corner of his mouth is torn deep and bleeding sluggishly, and his face looks pale and hollow. 

But his eyes are the color they’re supposed to be, and they’re looking right at Raph and seeing him, a connection as meaningful and important as any mind meld.

Because he’s Leo, the first thing he says is, in a croaky, exhausted voice, “Do you have a sword I can borrow?”

Raph barks out a laugh, tears in his eyes. Earlier today he had reached a point where he thought he’d never smile again.

In this moment, he feels like he could hold up the whole sky and grin while he’s doing it. 

Purple and orange spark madly all around them, a lightning storm and a forest fire ready to rain merry hell upon any unfortunate soul in their path, just enough to keep the General busy while Leo finds his footing. 

Raph wants to scoop them all into his arms and carry them someplace safe from all of this, but he knows he can’t. That place doesn’t exist yet. They have to fight for it. 

Leo breathes in deep and lets it go, takes the swords that Raph passes him in hands that don’t shake, and reaches out for his brothers’ light with a light of his own. 

A gale rushes down from the mountain, leading the charge.

“Hey, ugly,” Leo calls out hoarsely, pointing a blade at the Krang. “I’ve been dying to tell you this all day. The decor in here fucking sucks.”

“Oh my god,” Raph says, half despair, half delight. 

Landing beside him, twirling a glowing bo, Donnie stands shoulder to shoulder with his twin and says, “I would cite you ‘time and place’, Nardo, but honestly you have a point.”

“No because it’s so distracting,” Mikey pipes up, dropping weightlessly into a crouch on Raph’s carapace, narrowed eyes glinting in the dim light like a smug cat’s. “Presentation matters! Zero out of ten, would not be held hostage here again.”

“At least it matches the Six Flags Fright Fest he's got going on upstairs.” Leo indicates his own temple with the hilt of one sword. “There’s something to be said for consistency, am I right?”

It’s as much of a hint as it needs to be. The Krang isn’t stupid, which is a big part of the reason why he’s been such a difficult opponent. He understands within the space of a few seconds what Leonardo is saying—what it means for him to have any idea what the Krang’s headspace looks like. This whole time, there has been a subtle, calculative undermining at play right under his nose. 

He clenches those claws into fists that have enough power to bring down skyscrapers. 

“You really don’t know,” the Krang intones ominously, “when to shut your mouth.”

“Says you and everybody else I know,” Leo replies, unflinching and fearless. “Get some new material.”

Raphael gets it now. Maybe he always has. He understands what Splinter was thinking when he looked at Leo, still growing up but ready at sixteen for the beginning of something greater, and decided he should be the one to lead. 

His brothers would follow him anywhere. Raph would walk straight into hell without looking back if that’s where Leo decided to go. 

——

It’s an instant relief to have those singing silver blades back on their side. Leo’s portals open and close with dizzying speed, moving his brothers like chess pieces around a board, somehow keeping track of it all. For a moment, it’s easy to think they might win. 

And then the Krang blows them all away with the flick of his finger. 

Raph thought his world had ended when he was too late to save his brother in the warehouse. Then he realized the world was actually ending in slow stages all around him when he had to leave his brother behind again at the mercy of a monster. 

It turns out the end of the world happens here. On the quiet, abandoned expanse of Staten Island, listening to his little brother’s wrecked voice over the comms say, “Casey, get ready to close the door.”

“I’m ready, sensei!” Casey reports, prompt and reliable. “Tell me when you’re home free!”

There is a split-second of hesitation from Leo—the barest pause, practically nothing—that sends Raph’s heart straight into his throat. Donatello jerks all the way upright from where he was nursing what’s almost definitely a broken wrist, and Mikey goes dangerously still. They heard it, too. 

“Yeah,” Leo says, just barely too late to be believable to the siblings who know him inside and out, “I’ll tell you.”

“Belay that order, Casey,” April cuts in sharply, every inch the Commander she was in another world. “Leonardo, think twice before you lie to me. What’s your play?”

There’s another pause, and Raph can imagine in crystal-clear detail the way Leo’s throat works when he thinks he’s in trouble with their sister, the way he’s probably clenching and unclenching his hands while he wars with that stupid self-inflicted mission to never make himself vulnerable to anyone for anything. 

The little brother need to be liked wins out. Leo admits, “I can’t think of how else to make him stay there.”

The ground falls out from beneath Raph’s feet. 

“No!” Mikey shrieks, fully at his limit of shit he’s willing to deal with. “No no no no!”

“Sensei I can’t just—I won’t just trap you in the Prison Dimension!” Casey says, horrified at what he was almost tricked into. “There has to be another way!”

“We’ve tried everything,” Leo rasps. “I don’t know what else to do. I can’t let him—let him get you. Any of you. I have to stop him while there’s still a chance.”

“It’ll be a real shame if you save the world from the Krang this way, only for me to destroy it myself when I rip the universe apart to drag your sorry self back here,” Donnie bites out. “And I will, Nardo. I swear to every imaginary higher power you can think of, I will.”

“Leonardo,” Splinter says sternly from April’s end, the leaping panic in his tone well-hidden from everyone but his two eldest, “you will not sacrifice yourself for us today even if it means the world ends tomorrow. That is not what our family does. We are taking you home one way or another, Baby Blue.”

If being in trouble with April is bad, being in trouble with Splinter is cataclysmic. Leo is a daddy’s boy through and through. 

He hesitates again, seconds they don’t have to spare inching by, then says, “How?”

Before anyone can answer there’s a ring of metal and a heavy slam, and his line goes silent. Leo is fighting for his life a thousand feet above their heads, but at least he’s fighting. At least he’s willing to wait for help.

He sounded afraid, Raph can’t help but think. He doesn’t want to go, but he will if he has to. 

“I’ll get him down,” Mikey says, planting his feet, ready to move mountains. “I become a badass mystic warrior at some point, right? Might as well be now.”

“Wait, Uncle—Michelangelo,” Casey blurts, self-correcting a beat too late, “you can’t, when you did it last time, you didn’t survive.”

“If future me can open a portal through time and space and send my entire nephew through safe and sound, all by myself,” Mikey says, “then this me can do at least half of that with my brothers here to help.”

“The math is sound,” Donnie says, eyes trained unblinkingly upwards. “We haven’t met a single universal constant that we haven’t been able to turn upside down and inside out just for fun.”

“I’ve got ‘em, Casey,” Raph adds, his heart going out to the kid who stands to lose his whole family all over again if the wind blows the wrong way. “I’m the biggest, big enough to carry everybody if I have to. Nothing bad’s gonna happen while Raph is here.”

“Oh,” the boy says, very soft. “I remember you saying that.”

“Whatever you’re going to do, do it now!” Leo shouts suddenly, his comm coming back on with a burst of static and a strange ambient whine that must be what the inside of the portal sounds like. “Now, please, now!”

Mikey lights up, a tiny self-made sun of burning, shining gold. He grits his teeth and lifts his hands, trembling under the pressure of the cosmic forces he’s wrestling into submission. Donnie wraps both arms around him and braces his little brother with his entire body, absorbing as much as he can. The feedback is halved instantly, and when Raph steps in and holds them both, it’s reduced even more. 

With a little huff, Mikey works his shoulders, like this is nothing more complicated than the tricky recipe he once found for an eight layer Doberge cake on one of those unreadable walls-of-text baking blogs. If he can figure out that, he can do anything. 

Lightning and fire and rock-solid, steady earth stretch out their hands, reaching past the open gateway and through empty space, searching for the windy blue thing that doesn’t belong in this darkness. 

The wind reaches back eagerly, desperate to be grabbed up and taken home and held forever. 

Inside the Prison Dimension, bright chains flare into existence—some to tangle around the Krang and immobilize him, still more to wrap around Leo’s chest and haul him back through the door while it’s still open, at a reckless, break-neck speed. 

It would have been dangerous for a squishy human, but Leo lands on the surface of the Technodrome in a roll and manages to find his feet. 

“I don’t have a sword,” he blurts, panicked. “I don’t know how to get down.”

Mikey clenches his fists. Ready to open up the portal that killed him in another world, after all, if that’s what it takes to get his big brother down here where he belongs. 

Then Donnie says, “You don’t need to have a sword, dumb-dumb. I have one.” 

It materializes in his hand, a purple construct of one of the matching lightsabers he made for his and Leo’s eleventh birthday. They were very quickly confiscated but Leo laughed like a maniac for the three minutes they had them, and Donnie kept the schematics for a rainy day. 

“Will that work?” Mikey asks, too breathless to sound as terrified as he probably is. 

“It’ll work,” Donnie says shortly. “A sword is a sword. Now’s not the right time to be a snob, Leon. Come here.”

Leo makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan and feels for the shared space between them where their ninpo lives, where the mountain and the bonfire and the lightning and the wind all live. Raphael can feel it when that mischievous blue energy finds a brand new rule to bend and decides sure, that sounds fun.  

Runes etch themselves into the handle of the Genius Built lightsaber. 

Raphael shouts, “Casey, now!”

At the same time the looming portal above their heads sends a shockwave over New York City, popping and sparking along the edges like a downed transformer as it shrinks and shrinks until it closes around the Technodrome, a flash of bright cyan heralds the abrupt head-on collision of Leo into Donnie when he swaps places with the sword construct his twin was holding. 

They go down in a haphazard pile of limbs, groaning where they lay on the concrete, and then groaning again when a hundred pounds of little brother gleefully joins the pile with an enthusiastic flop. 

The explosion above them is an afterthought. April and Splinter and Casey are all talking over each other on the comms, frantic for confirmation that they all came out of this alive. That they haven’t lost anything they won’t survive losing. 

“We’re all here!” Mikey says, crowing it to the wide-open, smoke-filled sky. “We won!”

Raph should probably elaborate on that for his dad, sister and nephew’s sake—let them know that everyone’s really okay, describe the little miracles Mikey and Donnie just pulled out of thin air like it was nothing, tell them about Leo trembling like a leaf in the wind but tucked securely into his twin’s side and absorbing the warmth of another living person like it was something he’d always taken for granted before— 

But there’s something else he needs to do first. 

“Noooooooo,” three little turtles protest as their biggest brother rounds out the turtle pile, flattening them to the ground. 

“Tough luck, bozos,” Raph rumbles. “I ain’t lettin’ a single one of you out of my sight ever again.”

Mikey giggles, half-hysterical, a contagious, familiar sound. Donnie shuts his eyes to hear it better. Leo hides his cold face in Raph’s neck and doesn’t say anything else at all. Raph holds them all tight, and imagines a universe where he’s strong enough to never lose them.

Maybe it’s this one. 

——

Casey, who is both medically trained by Leonardo’s future self and entirely immune to the slider’s particular brand of treatment-avoidant bullshit, turns out to be a godsend. Leo uses every trick in the book and still winds up in a bed in the infirmary. 

For someone who craves attention as much as he does, it would make more sense for him to milk a hospital stay for all he’s worth. But it’s always been exactly the opposite, Leo escaping at the first possible opportunity and hiding out somewhere until negotiations are made. 

After all these years, Raph finally has him figured out. 

Leo’s face is still puffy and red where it’s healing, but it’s inevitably going to scar—through the right side of his mouth and down his chin, where the parasite clung the hardest. And for the three days that they’ve been home, Leo ducks his head when anyone looks at him, talking to his hands or his knees instead of to their faces. 

Don’t look at me, Leonardo is screaming with his whole body. Raph doesn’t need a mind meld to hear that, loud and clear. 

Too bad, he thinks, not unkindly. His heart aches as he sits on the side of Leo’s bed and watches his brother tuck his chin immediately. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he says, lifting Leo’s face again in one large hand, gentle and implacable. Leo resists briefly, but gives it up for a bad job when Raph rumbles at him.  

“Don’t,” Leo manages. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Raph challenges. “I missed you.”

Leo’s eyes are downcast and wet, his mouth screwed stubbornly to one side in a manner that probably hurts, given the stitches. Raphael is a professional at outlasting moody little turtles, and he’ll sit here until the next apocalypse if that’s what it takes. 

Eventually, Raph’s patience pays off. Slowly, gingerly, Leo opens his hands. He lets Raph take them and squeeze strength and warmth into them, and clings back for as long as it takes to cobble together the remarkable courage he needs to look his big brother in the eye. 

“I lost the key,” Leo starts damningly.

“You got it back,” Raph says, ignoring the nauseous lurch in his stomach at the memory of the warehouse, Leo pinned to the floor, the escape pod activating and leaving him there alone. His nightmares always start right there these days. “We’re the ones who couldn’t keep hold of it.”

“I almost hurt you,” Leo says, a note of desperation entering his tone. “I almost—”

“You didn’t,” Raph counters firmly. “You have no idea how much more incredible it is that you didn’t.”

“I was so mean.” Tears drip down his face as he finally loses the battle not to cry. “When the Krang was in my head he saw everything and he said—said you must hate me, and he did all of you a favor getting rid of me, and I thought—I thought that makes sense, because I was so mean, and I’m nothing but trouble, and I don’t contribute, and even when dad gave me the chance to step up and be something I still wanted—I just wanted—”

Little Leo, who invented games of make-believe so Raph could feel like a hero. Little Leo, forever finding ways to make recalcitrant Donnie play, pleased as punch every time he pulled it off. Little Leo, who could listen to Mikey ramble for hours without getting bored or short-tempered, his bedroom walls an ever-evolving art collage of his little brother’s best work. Little Leo, who just wanted to be held and held and held. 

Raph lifts Leo into his arms, as easy now as it was when he was three and nine and twelve, and holds him. Leo shakes with how hard he’s crying, even though he’s not really making any noise. His hands scramble to grab onto Raph’s shell and he lets Raph squeeze him into something young and small and hurt and loved. 

As a general concept, Raph disagrees with murder—but he thinks he could make an exception for the monster who forced his way into Leo’s brain and turned it into an echo chamber of all the worst things he had ever thought about himself. 

An eternity alone in the dark with nothing but his failures is as close to justice as they’ll get. It’s kind of poetic, right? is all Mikey will have to say about it when it comes up a week from now, a mean-spirited little smile on his face. 

“I’m sorry,” Leo chokes out. “I’m sorry, Raphie. I’ll do—I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll be better, I swear. I’ll never let you down again.”

“He said he would live the rest of his life making up for it, making you proud,” Casey said.

“Blue, this thing you think you gotta make up for—this price you think you gotta pay for existing—it doesn’t exist,” Raph tells him in a tone that brooks no room for argument, barely managing not to grind his teeth together. If anyone else had said anything even half as bad as Leo had said about Leo, he would’ve punched them straight through a wall by now. “You mean more to me than what you contribute to the team. Even if you brought nothing to the table, which is not true, you’d still be stuck with us forever. Non-negotiable. You could be a hateful little brat every single day of your life and I would still take a bullet for you, no questions asked. Are you hearing me?”

“Hearing you,” Leo mutters, knowing better to disagree with that tone.

“All I want from you is you. All I need is my Leo. Whether he’s feeling goofy or annoying or pissed off or scared—I want every shape of him. Every version. Don’t you dare,” Raph adds, punctuating this by a little rattle of the Leo he’s holding, “make me go a single day without him ever again.”

Leo is fully hidden beneath his chin, so there’s no way for Raph to tell what his face is doing. But he hears the little punched-out breath, and feels it a second later when Leo’s white-knuckled grip on his shell loosens, just a bit. No longer convinced he’ll be ripped away for some imaginary offense.

It’ll take more than one conversation to fix everything, but they’ve got more than one. They’ve got a million. They have the whole rest of their lives on each other’s team. 

“I missed you, too,” Leo whispers, like they’re four and five years old again, huddled under the blankets after bedtime and telling each other secrets. 

Back then, monsters were easy to conquer. Nothing scary or sad dared to follow little brothers to Raphie’s room. A warm nest and a turtle pile was the answer to every heartache. 

Some things stay exactly the same, Raph thinks fondly, amused by the way Leo’s already drifting off. He settles in for a nap on his plastron, Leo tucked securely under one arm. He gives it about thirty seconds before Mikey and Donnie stop listening outside the door and sneak inside to complete the pile, and starts the count in his head. 

He makes it to twenty-seven before the mattress gives tellingly beneath two pairs of hands, and he smiles. 

[justatinycatgirl]

Oaths & Loyalties

link to ao3 version

(direct fan content of @havanillas' roleswap au)

“No.”  A terse and firm rejection.  Lapis Lazuli had expected this from Sapphire, his coworker known for his unwavering dedication to his oaths.  The oath to treasure his cornerstone like his own life is no different.

“Oh come on Sapphire, it’s not that terrible of a plan, is it?” Lapis groaned.  It wasn’t such a terrible plan to himself, deceiving The Family with two cornerstones that are not his own.  It was a gamble whether they would take the bait, but that’s what Lapis specializes in.

“It’s a horrible plan!  Not only do you intend to put I and Miss Topaz’s cornerstones at risk for your scheme, but also risk your own life at the end of it all.  Are you even sure any of this will work?”

“Well of course not, no scheme is ever one hundred percent certain to go through as planned.” Lapis shrugs.

“Mine always are.” Sapphire retorts, causing Lapis’ face to twist into a sneer.

“Well, aren't you a genius.  Perhaps I could make some ends meet and get you hooked up with the Genius Society?” Lapis derided, leaning forward with his hands on his hips.

Sapphire’s eyebrows raised at Lapis’ contemptuous mocking, before letting out a derisive huff of his own.  He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Did I mistakenly probe at an old wound, Lapis Lazuli?  As far as I knew, you had cut ties with any and all factions related to Nous.” Sapphire quirked an eyebrow at the man before him, who’s shoulders now tensed at his pointed statement.

Lapis’ gaze leaves the slender man in front of him, now resting on his shoes. “Yes, I did.  I was only being sarcastic.” His gaze shifts to the side now, brows furrowed in irritation.

“While we’re on the topic, your loyalty is…concerning, to say the least.” Sapphire begins, rising from his seat and slowly making his way to the broader shouldered man. “You gave up on Erudition after the Genius Society rejected you, you couldn’t fully dedicate yourself to The Hunt, I do wonder how long it will take until you break your oath to Preservation as well.” He was now standing directly in front of Lapis, looking down his nose at him with a contemptuous glare.

Lapis grit his teeth, clenching his fists at his sides.  He wanted to say many things to this man, things he knew he couldn’t if he wanted his plan to work out correctly.  They need to at least tolerate each other for things to work out.  But this proud bastard is making that really difficult right now.

He takes a deep breath, steadying himself before speaking again. “I can assure you, my loyalty to the IPC is unwavering.  This corporation has done a lot for me, I have no reason to be so fickle.”

“Now,” A swift topic change, lest he blow a gasket. “As for my plan for Penacony.  I can assure you that your and Topaz’s cornerstone’s will be safe.  Even if The Family despises the IPC, they should know better than to mess with our property.”

“I suppose you do have a point…” Sapphire reluctantly admits. “But what of yourself?”

“Well,” Lapis smirks, shrugging his shoulders. “We will just have to see on that.  If all goes well, both the cornerstones and myself will return unscathed.  At worst, only the cornerstones will, and Penacony will still be back in the IPC’s grasp.  Either way, it will be a success.”

Sapphire narrows his eyes at the man, lips pressed together tightly, until he sighs.  He hangs his head and his shoulders slack, and he uncrosses his arms to hold out a hand to his coworker. “Fine then.  Against my better judgment, you shall have my cornerstone.”

Lapis could almost jump for joy at Sapphire’s delayed acceptance, but he knew better than that.  He had to keep his poker face.

He takes his hand in his own, and gives it a firm shake. “You won’t regret it.”

“I hope you won’t give me reason to.”

[ataraxiaspainting]

King of Infinity.

Yan (Villain) Gojo x F Reader. 

Synopsis: You don’t get the starring role. You’re partially happy about it; because you don’t have to break a leg.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships/kidnapping(?), descriptions of genocide, descriptions of corpses, manipulation, Stockholm Syndrome(ish), and degrading language against the reader.

Word Count: 1.1k.

can technically be considered a roleswap AU but up to you as geto isn’t talked about rcfncodnorjr…

*~*~*~*

“I never considered you someone who would be fond of apartments.” Satoru pushes his sunglasses up with his pointer finger as he wraps an arm around your trembling shoulders.

The same hand that holds you so very tenderly in the eyes of his followers is the same hand that turns on the lighter to envelop his cigarette in a small flame – a flame you had learned long ago to not attempt to put out, lest you would like it seared into your palm like the tattoo he forced on your neck.

‘The Star.’

“It’s a good strategy though,” Those words are the closest thing to a praise you have heard in months. They are akin to Satan reflecting on his reign of hell and comparing, considering whether or not it would be better to serve in heaven. But then he would laugh as his servants danced, not wanting any angel or God to take such bliss away from him.

Satoru had you dressed in what he considered to be the highest quality fabrics monkeys can make, while he had attire made from the sorcerers he had wrapped around his finger. Yours were not suitable for Tokyo’s snowstorms and his clothing covered up more skin than he would ever let you cover – because you aren’t him, the one he loves the most more than anything else in this beautiful world; Gojo Satoru, the special grade sorcerer that killed more than thirty thousand people in a single hour outside Jujutsu High and was never punished after that fateful evening.

You still remember that night. It is etched into your memory like a child had drawn it on a white wall. Despite everything, you will not ever be able to erase it. You will grow old and never dream of anything but him, the center of your now small universe, the only flower that is allowed to bloom under the eternal blood moon. Everything else will rot – even the earth’s shadow will not remain once Satoru’s dreams are realized. His will is all that matters now, he is the priest of the god of destruction and you are so very far below him. 

A monkey. That is where you will stay and continue to be after you rot and he steps on the soil placed on top of you so you cannot breathe or scream. Only gratitude can fall from your disgusting lips because Gojo Satoru’s only fuel is the groveling of every living creature that makes up the infinite number of galaxies. He will gladly replace your tongue with the worms who decompose you if you have more to say than that. After a while, he’ll comfort you and say that it doesn’t get too bad underneath because that is your one true purpose in life; to not speak and only do.

“You didn’t cry too much this time,” The ends of Satoru’s mouth move upwards, having the freedom to do as they please because his lips aren’t sewn shut. Yours on the other hand can hardly get something that tastes pleasant. “That’s an improvement, wouldn’t you say? I’ll be sure to get you some mochi after this mission, pet.”

You’re not sure if he is talking about the car ride here or the corpses strewn across the floor – occupants of this apartment and a poor security guard that just so happened to be in the general vicinity and heard flesh being torn apart like paper.

There are glimmers coming from the knife block in the kitchen area, the sunlight hitting them just right to make them glow a silvery hue. But the idea dies as soon as you feel its warmth – almost nonexistent because of the burning cold – and slink back into the shadows where you belong, where you are meant to be.

“I never took you to be one for planning. Usually, it is Nanami who does that.” 

A puff of smoke comes out, but you can still see his glowing eyes. You can always see them no matter what you do, even if you close your own, so you decide to imagine them as a different color; something less bright and more normal, something like black or brown. Sometimes you get away with it, and other times he somehow knows.

“I don’t mind it though.”

From across the street, you see the clocktower that stands at the gate of the nearest train station… or bus stop. You don’t care enough to remember which it was. Most likely the former though – you highly doubt any mere bus station would have a clock that large when said buses only hold less than fifty people.

“Will you miss me?” The tone in his voice is teasing, you think because his lighter isn’t on his lap or in his hand – it is on the little coffee table beside the sofa you two are sitting on. But you must still behave according to Satoru’s design because the placement of the flames can easily change. The comfort is cold, but it is better than a scorching hot truth.

“Yes.” 

The real reason you had chosen an apartment and not some corporate office that was under the thumb of the Star Religious Group was because you wanted to be somewhere that was halfway normal. It’s selfish, you know that. But the floors are aged and not polished daily, the air smells different and the heating is at its lowest setting because the owners wanted to save a bit of money. It was oh so very selfish of you. But when you are forced to be the companion of Gojo Satoru, someone who is every definition of the word, you have to combat it in a way that won’t leave your skin black and blue.

“It’s almost eleven,” Satoru groans, stretching his arms up to the ceiling. Some blood managed to get up there along with a bit of a leather shoe, probably the husband’s. You two ignore it for different reasons that are just as strong as the other. “Be good.”

When he reaches towards the table, you think he is reaching for his lighter. But with a slight detour of his hand, he opens his wallet instead. A few thousand yen is handed to you when your eyes are closed, your mind prepared for another fight or flight response. All you get is another poke of your cheek.

“You know where the market is, don’t you? The one I took you after our date last week.” 

You nod. “Would you like mochi, master?”

“No,” Satoru chuckles. “Get me something you like.”

[u3pxx]

PLEASEEE can you elaborate on the gavinners i cant stop looking at them theyre so pretty

sometimes i forget that outside of my friends and servers, i don't really talk much about my gavinners boys* huh! so basically, i originally wanted to make them so i could beef up turnabout serenade in my roleswap au, kind of like turnabout samurai where you have a lot more characters which in turn means a lot more suspects!

but then i realized, wait, i need to make them in the canon-verse first before i could make their swap au counterparts! and so now they exist pftt

here y'all go, i'm gonna be copy-pasting the character descriptions i wrote for them during art fight pftt <3

🥁 DEIDRE MINUENDO

Height: 5'7" (170 cm), 5'9.5" (176) with boots on Birthday: Jul 7 ♋︎ | Pronouns: He/Him, She/Her, They/Them

Deidre is the seemingly gloomy and stoic drummer of the band The Gavinners! At first, it could be difficult to get a read on them but despite all that, they're just like that because they prefer saving their energy. It might not look like it, but Deidre enjoys company even if they're not the most chatty with it and thrives the most when they are around other people (she prefers it if she's around the people closest to her though). Deidre is pretty sensitive and an emotional person even if they don't outwardly express it. To the people close to them, Deidre has a sarcastic streak and can be pretty snappy when it comes to teasing. She can dish it but she can't take it however as they can get slightly irritated when they're teased back. Even if they are a rockstar, they can get embarrassed when people praise or say nice things about them to their face, he tends to brush affection if even if he is secretly flattered by it (he's not gonna admit it though pftt) They also enjoy doodling here and there and like stuffed animals (they have a few of their own!)

Deidre was the closest to Daryan so the events of 4-3 affected him immensely. They felt betrayed and confused and tried to deny that Daryan would be capable of taking another person's life; they scrambled to do everything to protect Daryan from omitting information and even lying on the stand. In the end, all of their efforts were for naught and they felt incredibly guilty for what they've done, especially since she started antagonizing Preston when he was starting to suspect Daryan. They cut themselves off from the group, their job, and stardom. They ended up severely depressed and started to rarely go outside anymore. Only Doremy (Daryan's twin, also a close friend of his) was able to reach him during this time while Viva tried to but he kept refusing to see him. It took them a long time to finally be able to reconnect with the group and it took them a lot of help and support to be able to be well again. Deidre carries Daryan's betrayal to the group heavily and it took a while for her to start forgiving herself.

⚡ VIVA CHI

Age: 25 | Height: 5'9" (175 cm) Birthday: Jan 1 ♑︎ | Pronouns: He/Him

Viva is the lively and energetic bassist of the band The Gavinners! Though he may seem goofy and a little unserious, he actually is pretty responsible and is the mediator of the band (as the eldest brother of his siblings and the eldest of the band, he kind of made that his responsibility). He's a forensic scientist and has always had an interest in science alongside music ever since he was young (he thinks Ema is very pretty but she finds him annoying pftt). Viva was the last one to join the band when they were all in high school and despite his extroverted personality, felt a little shy at the time getting to know a new group of people (it's because Preston was there who he may or may not have crushed at while in high-school.) He's a lover of all things caffeinated (especially energy drinks though he should really pace himself) which isn't always the best match to the fact that he's got terrible anxiety and thinks himself down a spiral when he gets too worried.

Once the band disbanded after the events of AA4, Viva, though left in a bad place with his anxiety shot through the roof, fared better compared to the other members. He tried his best to keep in touch with everyone with varying successes despite Daryan's arrest being fresh and hurt. - visiting Daryan in prison to hear his side of the story - popping in to check at Preston in his office because the guy started to take worse care of himself - contacting Deidre even if she was trying to isolate and cut herself from everyone and looking out for Klavier even if he buried himself in his work He took a break from music like everyone else, he still hopes one day they can meet up and play music again, not even as a band, but as a group of friends who loved creating music.

🦇 PRESTON KEISS

Age: 25 | Height: 6'1" (185 cm) Birthday: Oct 25 ♏︎ | Pronouns: He/Him

Preston is the mysterious yet magnetic keyboardist of the Gavinners! Tall, dark, and bewitching; Preston is aware of the impression people have of him at first glance and likes to use that preconception to surprise and even catch people off-guard by purposely being silly or crass. He has a number of odd quirks and mannerisms that he doesn't realize he has, people tend to notice but they often let it pass because he is very handsome (pretty privilege lmao). Preston can sometimes be mischievous and finds certain things amusing only to him even if others don't find it as funny. He's always had an interest in horror and the macabre ever since he was a young boy which developed into a great fascination with the special effects used in old and new horror films alike. (He can be a bit jumpy when watching movies even if he loves to do it, he can't help it if the movie gets to him!) He plays up his whole immortal vampire schtick because the fans tend to theorize if he really was one. (He is not, he'd love to be one though pftt) Preston is very stubborn and adamant about his opinions and can be difficult to sway if he thinks he's correct; he is also quite awkward when it comes to personal matters, as can be seen in his strained relationship with his older sister and whatever romantic thing he's trying to achieve with Viva. He's used to acting larger than life when the cameras are on but being raw and honest has him feeling a little embarrassed and stilted. Preston smokes and keeps it a secret. (Don't tell Viva that!)

Preston was the first person in the band to start suspecting Daryan which he mostly kept to himself at first but wouldn't deny when you asked him (Deidre did not like that.) After Lamirior accused Daryan in court, Preston was determined to make Deidre confront the truth (unfortunately, not taking in why Deidre might be upset and in denial about it) which caused them to have a fight (with Viva being unsuccessful in de-escalating it.) After the Gavinners disbanded, Preston didn't feel very well after Daryan got sent to prison and lost contact with Deidre (whom he hasn't talked to since the case. [he misses them.]) He seemed fine afterward with his workload seeming to increase though upon closer inspection, he's started taking worse care of himself, skipping meals, and losing his interest in music. Preston has a lot of baggage to sort through regarding his friends and his family that will be difficult and painful for him to confront, but rest assured, he's gonna come out of it happy and well.

and here's a compilation of some very old turnabout serenade drawings too :^]

(i didnt make dei's bday turnabout serenade on purpose, it was a tragic happy accident DFGHDJ i wanted his bday to be 7/7 bc i made daryan 6/6 but then the date. i realize the date orz)

[jojo-schmo]

i havent gone through your whole page yet so forgive me if there's already explanation for this, but what is Kirby and Bandanadee and other similar characters like in your comic/au?

(ps you introduced me to metadede so thank you for that <3)

So here's a chart I drew up for this ask summarizing the roles I swapped for the FL Roleswap :D

Now that Kirby is the Town Protector, he's back there keeping all the Dees safe, and when it's peaceful he's doing other fun Kirby stuff! Maybe a part-time Cafe job, or some good fishing, or growing his Gotcha Capsule collection.... And one day will host the Kirby Cup in the Coliseum- Except Mouthful Mode is banned in that particular tournament. >:P

As for Bandee, he is.... busy.

[allysdelta]

Some long-overdue fan art for @asleepyyy 's delicious Good Omens roleswap AU, Oopsie!Omens. They are cranking out comic pages like an absolute maniac right now, and I can't help but be in awe of both the commitment and the creativity.

Thoughts below:

Oopsie!Omens, for those who don't keep up with the comic, roughly follows the events of the Good Omens TV show, but with one significant change: Aziraphale deliberately takes the fall on the Starmaker's behalf back before the Beginning, so here, our ineffable duo are the demon Azazel and the Archangel Jophiel. So far, Jophiel hasn't learned what exactly transpired, but bless it if this odd little barn owl demon isn't both strangely familiar and inexplicably endearing...

This has been the first roleswap/reverse Omens AU that I have been able to get on board with, largely because our heavenly/hellish pair are recognizably them; Azazel is devout, meticulous, and willing to march into the unthinkable to defend what he loves, while Jophiel is clever, snarky, jaded, fiercely protective, and will let nothing stand in the way of finding the truth.

Besides the above, there are two things I really love about this comic: One is that the artist has taken considerable liberty with the ways that the two appear over time, through mannerisms and costume, and every form they take, whether it's a palette change or gender presentation, is a delight. The other is watching how the comic, from a technical and storytelling standpoint, keeps outdoing itself. The artist was always skilled, but it is sheer pleasure to see how much their work advances with each update.

Did I mention that the comic is also funny? It is FUNNY. Brace yourself for the occasional heart stab, though.

Azazel's hands burn when he attempts to pray to God. The thought of the smoke forming art nouveau-esque swirls was entirely too good to pass up.

The actual art (watercolor pencil, layered over with standard colored pencil) looks a bit more radiant in person. My camera was more interested in the pencil marks than the colors.

Asleepyy, if you're reading this, stay well, don't burn yourself out, and know we'll always understand if you need to take a break!

[redcoralpot]

Stu!! I love seeing ppl love him. Would I be able to request some roleswap ish au, where reader is a slasher, and stu is the "final girl". He gets caught ofc, and reader unmasks, smut ensues (maybe stu had a crush or smth, maybe dubcon if u accept it).

Unrelated: Loved seeing Matthew lillard as william Afton, he did so good.

Ruined Man - Stu Macher X M!Reader

Summary: Stu Macher was a classic rich boy; arrogant, eccentric, and an asshole. He was known for playing cruel pranks on others, and earlier in the weak, he pranked Sidney by scaring her as the infamous Ghostface Killer. Maybe, just maybe, he deserved a taste of his own medicine. Trick or treat, right?

Warnings: NSFW, non-fatal violence, weapons.

Word Count: 2K

A/N: I don't write anything with SA, CNC, or dub-con; Stu plainly consents to the activities described. He has implied feelings for the Reader, and other implied activities as well... but I'll let you discover that part.

-

-

Crickets chirped in the grass, the crescent moon high in the sky. Finally, the noise from the Macher’s Halloween party had died down, and most people had left already, causing a blanket of peace to float down on the street. Any stragglers were drunkenly slumped against the curb, blacked out or calling for a sober ride. Your mask stuck out from the shadows, exaggerated and white, as you watched the property slowly become empty. Well, empty except for the host, of course. Stu Macher.

You could see him through one of the many windows, lounging on the first floor’s living room couch, still moving. Your fingers fumbled against the phone’s dial– god, how do killers run in this shit– pulling the black fabric further up your arm to position the voice changer closer to your mouth. Now, you patiently waited for the other man to pick up, seeing him jolt out of his position. Stu rubbed his eyes, and stumbled to the kitchen.

“Yo?”

Your lips curled into a nasty sneer, “Do you like scary movies, Stu?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Don’t make me choose, you know I’ve watched too many good ones!”

…

Huh? There was no way he knew your identity already. You’ll give him credit, he’s smart, but most definitely not that smart. Stu always visits the rental store Randy works at, and he always rented horror movies with Sidney’s boyfriend, Billy Loomis; that much you knew. He could not have seen you through the window before he ran into the kitchen, and even if he managed to, your mask was still securely strapped on.

“You still there? I haven’t dropped off Hellraiser yet, you could've just asked if you wanna watch it again.”

You hung up, breath quickening. Stu wasn’t scared, even though you were using the same voice changer as the loose, prank-calling murderer running around the streets of Woodsboro. You dumped the phone on the ground, hidden behind a bush. If he wasn’t scared by a little sound-a-like, that was fine, you came prepared. Stu’s garage door had been left open, and you jogged over. Frankly, it didn’t matter how much the rich boy had it coming, you were never doing this again. The costume’s long fringes caught on your feet, almost causing you to trip as you avoided the windows; less silent than you had hoped. Your shoes shuffled against the concrete, and you jiggled the handle of the only door, praying it would open. It creaked as you slipped inside, your shoes surely creasing when you tiptoed into the living room. From behind the couch, you could see that Stu was still in his kitchen, but he was looking around.

He grinned, cupping his hands around his mouth, “Nobody else’s here, Billy. You don’t gotta sneak into my house, you know that!”

 Sighing, you watch him leave the room to wander about the hallways, stopping by the door you had snuck through– and forgot to close. He squinted, looking at the mistake, and back at the living room. Your cheeks burned, adrenaline starting to pump in your veins as he took a few steps closer. 

“C’mon, you wanna have a movie marathon? It’s kinda late for that, but whatever. I have plenty of snacks left from the party, and a whole lot more puke!”

Stu turned away at the last second, choosing instead to sprint down into the bathroom. You could hear a muffled, “Gotcha… nope,” over rustling cloth as you crawled on your hands and knees into the kitchen. The freezing tile shocked any distraction from your system, and you stood up, settling into the darkest part of the kitchen. One of your hands held a dull knife, while the other held the little voice changer machine. However, your position left you without visuals on your victim. You were tempted to pull down your hood, but that would be too reckless, especially since he seemed to think you were his dearest friend. Oh, man, he didn’t know what was coming. 

“Y’know I love pranks, man, but time’s up,” He probed, leaning on the marbled island, just out of reach.

Stu visibly flinched as he turned around and found you staring at him, the mask’s empty eyes giving nothing away. It took him but a second to recover, yet, and a smile accompanied his wild eyes, “Billy!”

You tilted your head, slowly raising your left hand, “Incorrect.”

He didn’t have time to respond; you lunged. You gripped his collar in a fist and slammed him into the countertop– he winced. Stu tried pushing you back, but it was in vain, your knife already threatening to pierce his throat.

Your full weight was on the man, and he raised his hands in defeat. Stu’s chest rose and fell in hefty patterns; you snickered at his obedience. His head slumped back as you released his shirt, in favor of wrenching your mask off to face him.

“Surprise, Macher.”

Stu chuckled, chewing on his bottom lip, “Didn’t know you were in on it too.”

“In on what– aren’t you scared?” You growled, pressing the knife into the flesh of his neck, but not enough to draw blood.

“Dunno,” his back arched, causing a drop of blood to drip down his shirt, “I think you could’ve done better!”

You flipped him over, slicing a fringe off of your costume to tie his hands with. Your hips were in between his thighs, leaving him trapped, and the robe itself fell on the floor beside its mask. Stu giggled, hoisting up his torso with his elbows.

“It’s payback; you could use some.”

He winced as you pulled his hair, “Hngh, it was Billy’s idea.”

“Don’t act innocent.”

“And what’re you gonna do about it, tough guy?”

You rasped, moving to step back, “Nothing you don’t want; I think the prank’s done enough.”

Stu seemed to freeze, albeit briefly, but he wrapped his ankles around your hips– preventing you from running. Your hands brushed against them, tense, as his shoulders shook.

“I wanna.” A smile laced his tone.

“You sure?”

“I’m pose-itive,” he joked, “get it?”

You wrenched his mouth open, pressing down on his tongue with your thumb, “Shut it.”

He nodded, trying his best to close his lips around your finger. Your other hand trailed down his side, taking its sweet time, before landing on his waist. Saliva still connected your fingers to his mouth as you removed them, all in favor of lifting his hips. Underneath, you unzipped his jeans, taking extra care to avoid giving any friction. When you stepped back to slide them off of Stu, he whined, his hips still chasing your touch. His jeans were thrown aside, and you slid back in your place. You knew he could feel your breath on his neck.

Your crotch ground against his ass, a shiver spreading across his spine. Stu was audibly panting; his head was hanging low and he pushed his hips to meet your thrusts. You hummed, choosing to drag the knife in soft strokes down his back, the cool metal only just piercing his skin. Red oozed in thick droplets out of the wounds, some getting big enough to trickle down his back. The pain seemed to follow it down, as Stu made quite the pathetic noise. 

“We’ve barely even gotten started, Macher, and you’re this desperate already?” You teased.

“Mm, show me what ‘cha got!”

You chuckle and suck a bruise onto the back of his neck. From that position, you could hear a groan rumble in his throat, but it wasn’t strong enough to escape. Hm, you could change that. You sunk the edge of your teeth into a different spot, holding on for a second before soothing the bite with your tongue. If the bruise didn’t make what happened obvious, well, this would. Stu would just have to deal with it. Though, you doubt he’d mind.

The knife clattered onto the marble counter after you dropped it, Stu’s thighs twitching, “Where’s the lube?”

Stu didn’t answer, but only whined.

“Use your words, pretty boy.”

His voice shook, trying to form words past used lips, “Bathroom.”

“Louder, I didn’t hear you the first time.”

Stu wiggled against your weight, “C’mon, man– f-fuck, it’s in the bathroom, please!”

You tutted, a cruel grin on your face, “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You didn’t need directions, and as soon as you were out of his view, you practically ran there. Hell, you weren’t gonna miss out on this chance, were you? Stu, the eccentric boy that played downright evil pranks on anybody that breathed around him, reduced to a perverted degenerate. Perhaps he was already like that, and you wouldn’t be surprised. 

The lube was in a small, portable bottle that was half empty when you found it. Back in the kitchen, you poured the majority of what was left in your palm and fingers. Using just two, for the moment, you spread it over his hole; a finger may have dipped in every once and a while, in the process. 

“I wanna, I wanna do it already,” Stu shuddered, his fidgeting acting up again.

A finger eased its way inside, a little too easily, much to your surprise, “Not yet.”

“I really wanna.” Another, just as simply.

“That’s too bad;” you mused, “have you been fingering yourself?”

He bit down on his bottom lip, the taste of iron filling his mouth, “Uhuh, uhuh.”

“To what?”

“Y-you, and me.” 

You spread the final bit over your dick, before pressing your hand into the sides of his neck, “You little pervert. Bet you loved getting a glimpse of me in the locker room, yeah?”

“Yeah, yes, yes– oh, shit.” Stu’s little tangent was interrupted by you slamming inside; the sting melted in with pleasure as you brushed his prostate.

Only for a moment did you stop to let him adjust, before pulling out and thrusting again. You found a rhythm, and the counter rubbed against his cock as you continued, smearing precum over the wood. His hands, still bound, scrabbled for anything to hold onto, but in vain. His nails just slid off of the smooth stone, his drool making it even slippier. Stu squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a knot grow in his gut. 

He clenched around you, causing you to grunt, “‘M gonna cum, please let me cum, please, please… ah!”

“We’re not done yet,” you hissed, firmly slapping his thigh.

“I can’t hold it, man, I really can’t,” he sobbed out, eyelashes wet from unreleased tears.

A sharp pain on his shoulder burned through any restraint the guy had, the knot unraveling as quickly as it had formed. Stu thrashed, the fringe snapping, and his vision whited out. His brain was all fuzzy; the only thing he could focus on was gripping the edge of the counter. Stu’s face was smushed against the counter, crimson mixing with the white surface. He shivered, eyes heavy, feeling a little floaty when a thick liquid dripped down his thighs. You pulled out of him, rubbing his waist as you did so.

“Good job, Macher. That was one hell of a show you put on, ” you sighed.

“Hhn.”

His body was limp as you turned him over, using the oven towel to start to clean him up, “How’re you feeling?”

Stu finally opened his eyes, using all of his strength to grin up at you, “Dude… that was like, awesome.”

“Pfft, you sound out of it.”

“Eh, what makes you say that? I want a big glass of water!”

You cackled, leaving his side to shuffle through a cabinet full of fancy cups, finally choosing a sturdy looking mug. He grabbed it as soon as it was in arms reach, taking huge gulps from it, like he had been starved. Or, more so dying of thirst. 

When he finished, you softly said, “Do you need help getting into bed?”

Stu shrugged, so you took that as a yes. You heaved him over your shoulder, supporting him up the stairs as he giggled the whole way. As you tucked him in, you swore you could hear something from down in the kitchen.

A phone’s ring.

-

Taglist: @jaspeywasy89 , @cannabrisano , @fandomz-brainrot

Want to be tagged?

Fill out a Google Form!

[yellowocaballero]

Naruto Roleswap Fic: Uchiha Family Values

“How do you do,” Itachi said quietly. Itachi always spoke very softly, as if every time he spoke he was begging you not to hear him. He looked down at the squirming kid, who had grown enraptured by Tobi’s ugly mug. “This is my brother. Sasuke, say hello.”

Promptly, Sasuke said, “You only have one eye!”

Tobi made a show of gasping, slapping one hand to the side of his head. “Oh no! Really? Tobi dropped it?! Tobi needs that! Will you help me find it, Sasuke!” Sasuke nodded his head furiously, ready to lend his ninja services to their newest client. “Thank you! Maybe I dropped it in the dirt around my house?”

Sasuke turned around and promptly attempted to run off and scrutinize a wide field of dirt. He was stopped only by his brother, who casually captured his collar and turned him back around. Shisui just laughed, crooked white teeth gleaming. Four of them had been replaced by replicas. 

“I knew you were the right person to ask! Tobi-san, I need a big favor.” Shisui made a show of clapping his hands together, ducking his head pleadingly. “Will you play with us?”

What was this kid’s game? 

There's only one thing Obito hates more than Konoha, and that's the Uchihas. Unfortunately, the prospect of supervillainy has not occured to him, so now he's stuck babysitting his cousins. Or, if you were to ask two of the cousins, babysitting him.

If you were to ask one of the cousins, he would say that there's more to Tobi than meets two Sharingan eyes. And there's nothing that Obito Uchiha hates more than that.

There's plenty of scenes of this AU that I don't feel are complete enough to post on Tumblr, but I feel as if this is one of them. It's a bit long, but I think I'd want to post it before posting the others. It's far from the first or last story in the order it was written or the order that events take place, but it's valuable context for the relationship Tobi will have with Sasuke and Shisui later on. I love Shisui. Shisui's fun. He's free real estate.

CW for noncon drugging (roofie'ing, basically) and constant background ableism. As usual I'm incapable of writing something without strong disability themes OTL. 12k of Uchihas being so abnormal under the cut.

A knock interrupted Tobi in the middle of his katas. After all this time, he still found them meditative and calming. He practiced them at the same level he used when he was eight, but that was the relaxing part: where other people had old stuffed animals, Tobi had old exercise routines.

The knock echoed again, sharp and impatient. The full situation processed far too late, and Tobi’s furious mental processing of the event could be summarized as: who the hell wants to talk to me? As a general rule, people didn’t talk to Tobi. Especially not Uchiha. 

Oh, well. He’d get rid of them in under five minutes. It couldn’t possibly be a social call. Tobi threw on a bathrobe and opened the door, yawning widely. 

Standing on the doorstep to his parent’s home was a mostly familiar teenager and two much more familiar children. The teenager was grinning broadly, the older kid had his only facial expression on, and the youngest kid was clutching onto the older kid’s hand and looking around curiously. What the fuck was all of this. What. Children? In Tobi’s house?!

Tobi yawned again, holding a hand over his mouth. It was eleven in the morning. “Um? Itachi-chan…?”

The teenager hurriedly gave him a shallow bow. “Hi, Tobi-san! My name’s Shisui. It’s nice to meet you!” He clapped Itachi on the shoulder. “And you’ve met Itachi-kun before, right?” 

Yes, yes, Shisui Uchiha. Everybody in the clan knew who Shisui Uchiha was. But he and Tobi hadn’t strictly met, and Tobi hadn’t seen him up close and personal since he was a tot. The kid looked pretty fluffy for Uchiha Genius #5. 

“Hi, Shisui-kun, my name’s Tobi.” Tobi looked around, seemingly really registering Itachi for the first time. He gasped, then broke into a big smile. “Itachi-chan! You’ve gotten so big!”

“How do you do,” Itachi said quietly. Itachi always spoke very softly, as if every time he spoke he was begging you not to hear him. He looked down at the squirming kid, who had grown enraptured by Tobi’s ugly mug. “This is my brother. Sasuke, say hello.”

Promptly, Sasuke said, “You only have one eye!”

Tobi made a show of gasping, slapping one hand to the side of his head. “Oh no! Really? Tobi dropped it?! Tobi needs that! Will you help me find it, Sasuke!” Sasuke nodded his head furiously, ready to lend his ninja services to their newest client. “Thank you! Maybe I dropped it in the dirt around my house?”

Sasuke turned around and promptly attempted to run off and scrutinize a wide field of dirt. He was stopped only by his brother, who casually captured his collar and turned him back around. Shisui just laughed, crooked white teeth gleaming. Four of them had been replaced by replicas. 

“I knew you were the right person to ask! Tobi-san, I need a big favor.” Shisui made a show of clapping his hands together, ducking his head pleadingly. “Will you play with us?”

What was this kid’s game? 

Whatever. This wasn’t the time to worry about that. Most importantly, Tobi absolutely didn’t want to play with them. Tobi had never liked kids, Itachi was a waste of time if his parents weren’t around, and Shisui had an ulterior motive for asking. Most importantly: Shisui was committing a major clan taboo by asking this at all. Which would be one thing if it was just him, but to drag along the main family kids like this? He was shit-talking the village in front of the Hokage here. This had to be some ridiculous clan politics that Tobi didn’t want to get swept up in. And it was setting a pretty awful precedent to involve him in clan politics at all. Tobi was involved in nothing, that was the point.

Tobi broke into a sunny smile, clapping his hands. “Really? You really want to play with me? Nobody ever wants to play with me!”

“No clue why,” Shisui said, lying through his fucking teeth. He looked down at Sasuke, who had finally processed the eye comment and was engaging in the arduous mental task in determining that he’d been duped. “Come on, Sasuke, let’s play ninja with Itachi and cousin Tobi.”

Sasuke grinned too, unselfconscious and toothy like only a little kid could. Tobi could tell that it was the ‘Itachi’ part of the sentence that excited him more than anything else. “I call Hokage!”

Trust me, kid. You could have it. 

*

That was how Tobi found himself playing in his backyard with a six year old and a fourteen year old as an eleven year old babysat both of them.

Well, Sasuke was probably the one being babysat. But the babysitter definitely wasn’t Tobi. They had tried to make him babysit a few times when he was a teenager, and it had ended in disaster. Strangely, Tobi hadn’t even tried that hard to sabotage that one. A passerby grandmother had seen Tobi coaching the kid through learning Katon and promptly flipped out. Tobi hadn’t seen the problem. He learned Katon when he was three, and he turned out fine. And yet they didn’t leave him unsupervised around children anymore.

The babysitter didn’t even seem to be Shisui, as he was happily rolling around in the mud with Sasuke pretending to be an enemy ninja as Tobi convincingly pretended to be kidnapped. Poor Sasuke was up against thousand-to-one odds, bravely holding back the rising swarm of enemies as he fought to save his panicked teammate. Shisui was having the time of his life pretending that Sasuke’s pokes with a rubber kunai were just as effective as hamstringing him. Itachi was the one sitting on Tobi’s back porch drinking tea. 

It was a familiar sight, from a few different dimensions. Tobi turned around, ignoring Sasuke’s dart through the hastily summoned stone obstacle course to reach Tobi in his prison - how many jutsu did Shisui know? “Itachi-kun, come play with us!”

Itachi sipped his tea. “Have fun, Tobi-san.”

Tobi blew a raspberry at Itachi. Itachi blinked. “You’re still no fun.”

“Ah…sure.”

Sasuke halted in his assault on the enemy stronghold. “Aniki’s a lot of fun!” Sasuke screeched. “He buys me dango and then we watch Super Ninja and then he shows me cool moves!”

“Itachi-kun never buys me dango or watches super ninja with me or shows me cool moves,” Tobi said, wounded. Itachi coughed. “That’s no fair.”

Sasuke crossed his arms, nodding imperiously. “Make your parents give you a brother. Itachi did that. Mama says Itachi wished really hard for a brother and ate all his vegetables and that’s how I was born!”

What a birds and the bees talk. Itachi looked away, clearly embarrassed. “Tobi doesn’t know if that’s true…”

“Mama said so,” Sasuke proclaimed, as if he was dropping a bomb on an unsuspecting village. “Go back to being kidnapped right now!”

Itachi blinked mournfully. “Remember your manners, Sasuke.”

“Please be kidnapped.”

Tobi fell over, howling his head off. “Ahh! The evil ninja stole my eye! Evil men!”

“So that’s what happened to it!”

Shisui sat up from his prone position on the ground. He looked at Itachi. Itachi nodded. He made an impressed sound. 

The playdate passed absolutely uneventfully. Tobi was rescued from the bad guys before he was permanently  maimed, which was a pleasant deviation from the norm. Shisui was covered in dirt and twigs, but he was smiling broadly and happily swinging the laughing Sasuke around by his armpits. Itachi never said or did anything. He just stood by them like a particularly attentive rock. He responded when asked a direct question, but otherwise he just hovered near Sasuke or Shisui’s elbows. The kid seemed to be in a permanent state of begging you to forget that he existed. He never lost the tension in his shoulders.

Finally, the sun began to dip in the horizon, and Itachi told the others that it was time to go. It was time for Itachi and Sasuke’s dinner, and when the panting Sasuke asked Tobi if he wanted to join them Itachi tactfully rejected on his behalf. 

“I’m sure Tobi-san is very tired after playing with us,” Itachi said, as if Itachi had done anything other than guard the perimeter with watchful eyes. “Say thank you to Tobi for playing with us today, Sasuke.”

Sasuke waved solemnly. “Thanks, Tobi.” Sasuke looked up at Itachi, tugging on his hand. “Did I do a good job?”

“Good job at what?” Tobi asked. He was also covered in twigs and leaves, but he couldn’t call himself unsatisfied. 

Frankly, Sasuke said, “Aniki said that I have to be nice to you ‘cause you’re dumb. Sensei says I’m not good at being nice so I had to work really hard. Did I do a good job?”

Itachi blinked hard, which was his equivalent of a full-body cringe. Shisui openly winced. But Tobi just smiled, and he patted Sasuke firmly on the head. “You did a great job,” Tobi said. “Tobi thinks you’re a really nice guy, Sasuke-chan!”

Sasuke’s eyes widened, and something in them seemed to gleam a little. He bobbed his head in a nod that shook his entire body, and he hastily reached up to pat Tobi on the head too. Tobi crouched down a little and allowed him to rub his sticky hand on his head. It was the first time anybody but Gai had touched him in a long time. “Sasuke thinks Tobi-san is a really nice guy too!”

“Well, Tobi thinks Sasuke-chan’s even nicer!”

This has now become a competition. “Sasuke thinks Tobi-san’s the nicest in the entire village!”

“Tobi thinks Sasuke-chan’s the nicest in the whole world -”

“We have to go home,” Itachi said. He bowed shallowly at Tobi, who stood up. Sasuke pouted. “Thank you for indulging us, Tobi-san.”

“What does indulging mean?”

“...being nice.”

Sasuke crossed his arms smugly. “I told you.”

“We’ll be back to play more again later,” Shisui said, bright and eager. “See you then!”

Tobi waved the four boys off, and Sasuke kept waving until the moment Tobi shut the door.

Tobi firmly locked the door behind them. Well, that was weird. 

Whatever Shisui wanted - had he received it? One of his motives had undoubtedly just been to socialize Itachi. From what Tobi could see of their dynamic, Shisui frequently pushed Itachi to act more like a normal human being instead of a particularly brotherly robot. But they could have achieved that with some kids Sasuke’s own age - or, heavens forbid, Itachi’s. Maybe he had been trying to warn Itachi. Serving as a walking, living warning was one of Tobi’s limited purposes around the village. 

That would make sense. Calm down and stop trying to kill yourself on missions, Itachi, you’ll turn up like this washed up child genius. If that was the desired role, Tobi was more than happy to fulfill it. The one-time reminder and break from their duties would be sufficient for Shisui’s purposes. 

Except then he came back a week later.

It was the exact same deal. Tobi acted incredibly excited to see them again - and, for just a bit of spice, acted a little emotional over how he really hadn’t thought they’d come back - and Sasuke was somehow equally excited. It was definitely just because of the time with Itachi, but Tobi had successfully found the right method to worm his way into Sasuke’s heart. He was just like Tobi as a kid: he would do literally anything for the slightest bit of praise. 

“Sasuke-chan’s so smart!” Tobi clapped wildly as Sasuke proudly showed off his barest flicker of Katon. You could get more results with a lighter. Tobi had been charring off the faces of adult men at his age. “You’re so cool, Sasuke-chan!”

Sasuke humphed, propping his hands on his hips and nodding fastidiously. “I know. I’m gonna be just as good as Aniki one day. Then I’ll go on his missions so he can be home!” Magnanimously, Sasuke added, “You can play with Aniki while I’m gone, Tobi-san.”

“Wow, Sasuke-chan’s so dedicated,” Tobi admired. “I bet you work harder than anybody in your class!”

“Of course I do!” Sasuke cried heatedly. “Everybody in my class is so lazy! Ino and Chouji and Shikamaru and Ami and Kiba and -!”

The child continued ranting about his utter disdain for his fellow six year olds. Shisui just laughed and clapped Tobi on the shoulder. The touch burned. “You’re so good with Sasuke-chan, Tobi, I’m impressed. You were clearly born to be the cool older cousin.” 

Tobi grinned, giving Shisui two ‘v for victory’ hand signs. “Tobi is the coolest, isn’t he?!”

“I sure think so! Hey, I stole some mochi from Mikoto-baachan, would you like some?”

Tobi gasped in delight. “Mochi, mochi, mochi!”

“Mochi?!” Sasuke yelled.

They sat on Tobi’s back porch, swinging their legs and listening to the cicadas chirp and whirr. Sasuke eagerly narrated his entire existence to Itachi, who nodded at the scientifically designated correct intervals. Tobi recited his top ten favorite mochi in list format to Shisui, who made impressed noises and empathetically agreed with him at the scientifically designated correct intervals.

There was something about Shisui. He was a sweet kid. Filled with the invigoration of youth, yet clearly mature and collected where it counted. He doted on his cousins, who clearly thought the world of him, and acted as their benevolent leader. He was respectful to Tobi as the adult in the room, but he spoke in ways that Tobi could understand and never made him feel stupid. He seemed to have decided that Tobi was lonely, that he needed a friend, and that Shisui was just the right person for the job.

In short: confidence grift. But what the hell did he want? Tobi was the most useless person in the village, thank-you-very-much. He contributed nothing to society and society wanted nothing to do with him. All he did was sit in his house or wander the village. The list of people who interacted with him was Gai and a small but mysteriously growing hoard of sympathetic old women. Itachi clearly had no idea why they kept on playing with Tobi, so it couldn’t be for his sake. Same with Sasuke. Shisui must want something, something he kept secret. But what? 

It had to be a clan politics thing. Ugh. None of Tobi’s fucking business. The Uchiha were a lot of talk and they always will be. Last Tobi heard, they were muttering about secession again. They literally never stopped. If Shisui was taking that kind of talk seriously - well, he was welcome to his stress. 

The third time they met, they were caught.

Tobi registered the presence before Itachi did. Afterwards, Tobi found that a little strange. Itachi was viewed as the ‘greater genius’, and he was obviously at hyper-alert every second of every day. Even in his own clan compound. Maybe especially in his own clan compound. Especially since he was looking after Sasuke. Tobi was a has-been, but he still picked up on Mikoto’s presence first. Maybe Itachi’s mother slipped underneath his radar, but Shisui didn’t notice until after Itachi did. Couldn’t they feel her step on the grass?

 Well, couldn’t show it. Tobi laughed and left a gigantic opening in their ‘taijutsu match’, letting Sasuke tackle him around his waist. Tobi carefully fell backwards, pinwheeling his arms and yelling, and struggled in vain to fight off the yowling Sasuke trying to pin him to the ground with his bird-like limbs. 

“I win!” Sasuke yelled, “I win, I win! Aniki, did you see me win!”

Tobi faked a growl. “It’s not over yet, Sasuke! Secret technique: Flappy no jutsu!” He grabbed Sasuke by the waist and hoisted him high in the air, making him squeal in delight. “You’ve been turned into…a bird!”

“No!” Sasuke wriggled happily, flapping his arms as Tobi began waving him back and forth in the air. “No, I’m not a bird -”

“If you’re not a bird, why are you flying!”

“Lemme go, lemme - Mama!”

From outside of Tobi’s field of vision, he heard Itachi’s voice say, “Mother. Hello.”

“Mikoto-baasan!” Shisui said cheerfully. “What’s…up?”

Quietly, Mikoto said, “Sasuke, please get down.”

Sasuke obediently wriggled, and Tobi slowly put Sasuke back down onto the ground. He scrambled upwards himself, tunic and wrapped pants smeared with dirt and grass stations, and twisted around to blink owlishly at the woman standing on the other end of his fence. 

Mikoto looked the same as ever. Same hideously fancy kimono - jeez, Tobi remembered when she wore mesh shirts and leggings constantly because she couldn’t be bothered to change out of her mission uniform. Standing ramrod straight and perfectly elegant. As always, there was steel in her countenance. The woman knew which way to bend, but as a result she was unbreakable. But she didn’t look at Tobi like she was about to bend now. She actually didn’t seem very happy at all.

Kids were highly sensitive to that sort of thing. Sasuke scrambled towards her, running as fast as he could to the fence. He tried hopping over it and failed miserably, curling his fingers on the edge of the fencepost. He blinked up at Mikoto, who was not looking at him. 

Tobi…broke out into a great big smile, pumping his arm in an excited wave. “Mikoto-nee! Hi-hi! Are you playing with us?”

Sasuke twisted around, boggling at Tobi. “Tobi knows Mama?”

“Duh! She’s my sister’s best friend, Kushina Uzumaki!”

Sasuke had never looked so horrified in his entire life. Mikoto’s lips thinned. “Tobi’s not an Uchiha?!”

Shisui raised a finger, omnipresent smile lingering stubbornly on his face. “Ah, Sasuke-chan, Tobi-san lived with some friends of his before they - Tobi-san is an Uchiha for sure. He just lived with Uzumaki-san and her partner for a while.” Sasuke squinted dubiously at him. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s good to see you again, Tobi,” Mikoto lied through her teeth, bowing slightly. Tobi tilted his head. “But Itachi and Sasuke have to go home now. Boys, let’s go.”

But Shisui just sauntered forward, hands in his pockets. “Why do they have to go?” Shisui drawled. “You said they could play in the compound for two and a half more hours. What’s the rush?”

Calmly, Mikoto said, “Their father wants them home.” 

Sasuke’s head swiveled, turning the power of his dubious looks upon his mother. “Father told us to play outside ‘cause he has a meeting all day…”

Itachi stood up, awkwardly brushing himself off. Shisui had finally managed to wheedle him into serving as referee for the ‘taijutsu match’, and Tobi had guaranteed that he was a casualty of Sasuke’s assault. “Don’t question Mother, Sasuke. Let’s say goodbye to Tobi-san and Shisui.”

“But Aniki…” Sasuke turned big cow eyes on Shisui, who he could rely upon to contradict Itachi and guarantee a little extra fun each day. “Why are we going?”

“Yeah, Mikoto-baachan.” Shisui crossed his arms, planting himself like a tree. Itachi hovered near his elbow, nervous. Did the kid know that he practically clung to every ‘safe’ person in every vicinity? “Why are they going?”

Mikoto didn’t seem particularly surprised by this. Despite the insubordination towards the highly outranking person, she wasn’t angry. She just seemed solid, steady, and sad. “We can discuss this at home.”

“No, say it here.” Shisui pointed at Tobi, who just adopted a baffled face. “Say it in front of him.”

Mikoto’s expression creased. “Shisui.”

As with any Uchiha, the single world was weighty with meaning. Shisui ignored all of it. He turned to Tobi instead, firm and implacable. “Do you know why Mikoto-nee doesn’t want her kids playing with you, Tobi-san?”

“Um…but…” Tobi adopted a distressed look. “Tobi thought Itachi-chan and Sasuke-chan’s dad wanted them home…?”

A hair louder than usual - about as much emotion at Itachi ever showed - he said, “We’ll go.”

At almost the same time, Mikoto said, “Do not bring him into this, Shisui.”

“Bring him into something that’s about him? Say to his face what we all say behind his back? If I’m embarrassing you, then you should be embarrassed.” Shisui turned to Tobi, folding his arms. “Sorry, Tobi. I guess the jig’s up. We were caught visiting you. Frankly, it seems that the Uchiha gossip network’s losing their touch. I can’t believe that it took three visits before we were caught.”

Caught? Oh, this was hilarious. Pity he couldn’t laugh. Shisui really had been smuggling the three of them over here. Itachi and Sasuke had been banned from even looking at Tobi’s mangled face. How funny. How typical. 

“Caught?” Itachi’s eyebrow creased subtly. Oh, this was too good. Itachi hadn’t even known that this would get him in trouble? Of course he didn’t. Itachi never broke a rule. “You said that people didn’t like to - you didn’t say that we couldn’t.” 

Shisui smiled again, openly mocking and more than a little bitter. “Who cares if I do it? You’re the one who’s not allowed to do it. Why do you think that is, ‘Tachi?”

“Shisui, I don’t -”

Sharply, Mikoto said, “Shisui, don’t you -”

“They don’t want you to know who they’re making you into. They’re afraid that you’ll see your future in that face.” Shisui turned and faced Tobi completely, forcing his words onto his shoulders. “Heavens forbid you learn what’ll happen to you after you’re pushed too far.”

Everybody was looking at Tobi - everybody but Sasuke, who was confusedly staring up at his mother. Nobody was making any facial expressions, but Tobi knew these people. Mikoto’s body was tight and tense and deeply sad. Shisui stood like he was on the attack. And Itachi…

He understood what Shisui was saying. He already knew. Shisui hadn’t needed to say it at all - or he wasn’t saying it for Itachi’s benefit. Itachi just seemed resigned. 

Meanwhile, Tobi just rounded on Shisui. He looked around, clearly registering the tangible tension and everybody’s clear distress. Kids were sensitive to this sort of thing. “Shisui-kun! Don’t say things that make Mikoto-nee so sad! You should apologize, right now!”

Shisui raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Why did it make her sad?”

“Because - um…” Tobi floundered a little, looking back at the silent Mikoto and Itachi. “Because you said Itachi-chan’s gonna get hurt like me, and - and he’s not! You can’t know if that sort of thing will happen!”

“Hurt?” Sasuke asked, voice cracking. He was getting upset too, reacting to everybody else’s emotions. “What does ‘hurt like me’ mean?”

Immediately, Itachi said, “Nothing’s going to happen, Sas -”

“Tobi was kidnapped by enemy ninja at the end of the last war,” Mikoto said crisply. She put her hand on the top of Sasuke’s head, but she locked eye contact with Shisui. “They hurt him very badly, Sasuke. He had to retire as a ninja because of his injuries. That is what happened to Tobi.”

And, as always, Itachi backed up his mother immediately. Before Shisui could get a word in edgewise, Itachi told Sasuke, “Remember when I told you that Tobi-san is an adult, but he doesn’t understand the world like an adult does, or do things the way adults do? That’s because the enemy ninja hurt his brain. But that was during the war, and that’ll never happen to me.” 

Sasuke’s brow furrowed deeply. “People’s brains only get hurt during wars?” 

“Let’s go, Sasuke,” Mikoto said. 

But Sasuke dug his heels in, and even when Itachi walked over towards him and put his hand on his shoulder he didn’t move. “You let me play with Cousin Daisuke who only has one arm. Nobody said Aniki’s going to grow up and have only one arm! Why is this different?”

“There’s many different types of wounds, Sasuke,” Itachi said quietly. “Leave it alone.”

“Yeah,” Shisui said, “and not all of them are obtained in war, either.”

Itachi stared down Shisui, and Shisui met his eyes with equal weight. They were Uchiha, Sharingan masters, and eye contact between them was heavy. They were almost brothers to each other, and they looked two seconds away from a genuine fight. Sasuke was at Itachi’s elbow. Watching them fighting here, fighting over…over…

“Why are we fighting?” Tobi cried, fingers tangling in his curly hair. “Are we fighting ‘cause of me?”

Itachi startled, turning to face Tobi as his eyes widened a fraction. “No. It’s - I’m sorry, Tobi, it’s not your fault.”

“It is my fault,” Tobi tugged at his hair, hunching his shoulders. “Tobi’s sorry that he made Itachi-chan and Mikoto-nee mad!”

Mikoto glared hard at Shisui, who blinked. He probably had never seen her make that expression. “Do you see why I wanted to have this conversation in private, Shisui? Who have you helped here?”

Itachi reached a hand out towards Tobi, with an unexpected expression on his face - truly distressed. “I’m not mad. Please don’t pull your hair.”

But Shisui just crossed his arms, unrepentant. “Hey, you’re the one who started this. I’m sick of letting everything go just to keep the peace.”

“Isn’t minimizing conflict more important than the truth?” Itachi snapped. 

Wow. That was more vocal inflection than he’d ever heard from the kid. Tobi helped the kid out and made a miserable noise.

Surprisingly, it was Sasuke who leapt into action. He reached up on his tip-toes and very lightly smacked his mother on the arm. Then he turned around and smacked Itachi on the elbow, much harder. Both of his family members just stared at him, shocked. Then he ran back towards Shisui and smacked him on the stomach, far more ferociously than he had whapped the other two. A clear hierarchy.

“Whatever happened to being nice to Tobi! Aniki, you said Mama and Father fought in their bedroom because I hate it and I’m six. Tobi hates it too and he’s not like the adults, so why aren’t you and Shisui fighting in your bedrooms?” Sasuke propped his hand on his hip, outright wagging his finger at Mikoto. She looked appalled. “Mama, I will talk to you in my bedroom!”

Tobi felt his fingers drop from his hair, mostly from surprise. The others were also staring at Sasuke in surprise. Sasuke huffed and sidled closer to Tobi, pointedly taking his side. He reached out and grabbed Tobi’s calloused and worn hand in one miniature fist, squeezing it with a feather-light touch. 

Sasuke stared up at him with wide and utterly harmless eyes. “I get scared when Mama and Father fight, and Aniki says that’s okay. If it’s okay for me then it’s okay for you too. Probably. Um.” Sasuke glared at Itachi, who blanched. “Aniki, say it’s okay for Tobi to be scared.” 

Automatically, Itachi said, “It’s okay for Tobi to be scared.” More hesitantly, he added, “You didn’t need to be scared. I wouldn’t get mad at you.”

And Tobi grinned, all unhappiness forgotten.  How could it not be? Itachi Uchiha said that there was nothing to worry about, and Itachi Uchiha was the god of a six year old. His word moved mountains and shook the heavens. “Tobi couldn’t be scared of Itachi-chan, no way!” 

“You should be scared of him,” Sasuke informed Tobi. “Aniki’s a badass who can chop up five hundred people in five seconds. If he wanted you dead, it’d be like - bam! You’re already dead.” Itachi flinched. Mikoto gave Sasuke an extremely pointed look, and Sasuke’s eyes widened. “Oh. Um. Mama can talk to me in the bedroom too.”

“Maybe we should all talk.” Shisui sounded a little more solemn, a little less sure of himself. But when he glanced at Tobi, his eyes were as bright and clear as ever. “Do you mind if we all come back later, Tobi?”

Tobi’s grin broadened, and he waved broadly with his free hand. “Okay! But only if you promise to come back again!”

“I promise!” Sasuke said loudly, on everyone’s behalf. What a bossy kid. 

Cute, though. Awfully cute. Tobi even kind of liked him. When’s the last time he felt a single positive emotion about a member of his clan? Even the innocent, blameless sort just evoked feelings of pity and anger in him. But looking at Sasuke now, bubbly little face so firm and dedicated, Tobi could only feel the faint stirrings of fondness. He was a good kid. Not like the rest of them.

It didn’t matter. At his age, Tobi had two B-rank missions under his belt. He’d killed - some quantity of people, Minato had always hid his own mission reports. Innocence just meant that the shit hadn’t happened yet. Give it ten years and Sasuke would end up just like the rest of his misbegotten family. There was nothing Tobi could do to change that.

He had tried. For Itachi’s sake, he had tried. He had never mentioned it, and maybe he didn’t remember, but Tobi had visited him pretty often when the kid was much younger. Unannounced and uninvited. Tobi usually only got away with a few minutes, but he made the minutes count. Mostly through relentlessly bullying Fugaku and Mikoto. 

“Itachi-chan’s so cute!” Tobi had squealed, balancing on a pole on the exclusive main branch family training yard. It was sealed for privacy. Nobody knew how he had gotten inside. “Tobi remembers learning the same jutsu when he was that age! Is Itachi-chan in wetworks too?”

Tobi would knock on the door, asking for Itachi when he knew full well that the boy was on a mission. “Itachi-chan’s on another mission?” Tobi would ask, faux surprised. “Itachi-chan works so hard! Is Itachi-chan going to beat Tobi’s record for most missions at that age? There’s not really a prize…”

Shisui thought he was clever. He was beating his head against a brick wall. Tobi had tried to do exactly what he was doing. Many clan members had done what he was doing, if far more politely and stiffly. 

It was no secret that Fugaku wanted Itachi to surpass Obito Uchiha. In some ways, he would: Obito hadn’t had the opportunity to become ANBU. In other ways, it was straight-up blatantly impossible. The petition to allow a young ninja to skip the Academy and test directly into genin just didn’t exist in peace time. Maybe Itachi had the record for youngest graduation, but Obito had skipped it. The number of missions, the number of kills, the number of B and A ranks: Itachi couldn’t catch up. And it fucking killed Fugaku. 

And Obito’s Sharingan was the best. Everybody knew it. It was still the best, although nobody knew that. No amount of pushing Itachi would change reality. 

But maybe it was necessary. Maybe Itachi would have to surpass Obito. Because if he didn’t surpass Obito then he would become Obito, and that was the silent and loudest fear of the clan. 

The fear that only Shisui Uchiha had ever vocalized in front of Tobi. Only he had ever looked at Tobi as he said it. He had even winked at Tobi as he left. What sort of confidence grift involved saying the cruelest thing in front of the most fragile person? 

When Shisui Uchiha returned, he returned alone. He knocked on Tobi’s door late at night, hoisting a large bottle of sake in the air and smiling brightly. Tobi was mildly surprised. All things considered, you could roughly equivocate that to shock. 

“Shisui-kun?” Tobi craned his head, looking over Shisui’s shoulder. All he saw were cicadas grinding their gears in the thick night. “Where’s Itachi-chan and Sasuke-chan?”

“Just me this time.” Shisui held out the sake bottle, grin widening. “May I come in?”

“Um…” Tobi leaned away a little, nose wrinkling. “Booze smells bad…”

“More for me, then!”

Somehow, Tobi found himself sitting at his kotatsu as Shisui surveyed his house with undisguised interest. It was as messy and dirty as he probably expected, since Tobi really couldn’t work up the fucks necessary to keep it clean. The occasional grandmother always insisted on cleaning the whole thing top to bottom, so it never got too filthy. The fridge was full of food. Obito hadn’t seen the point in cooking, so Tobi enjoyed it well enough. It could be time intensive, but he had more than enough time on his hands. He gave a lot of it away to the grandmothers or injured ninja or new mothers anyway. 

Shisui shamelessly poked his head into the back rooms. He’d find Tobi’s childhood bedroom cluttered with shelves of puzzles and games - Gai was always giving them to him - and a master bedroom full of boxes and giant racks of scrolls. Shisui had given him a curious look. 

“Sensei and Kushina-nee left their stuff to me.” As well as their money, which was mostly locked up in a trust and dispensed to Tobi in an allowance. “I’m holding it for Naruto.” Shisui flinched. Tobi pretended he didn’t notice. “A lot of it is in storage, but I keep some of it here ‘cause it gets lonely by itself.”

Left unsaid: as Naruto was undoubtedly fucking lonely by himself. The kid’s ANBU guard wouldn’t even let him into the orphanage, so Tobi was forced to wait however long before he left. Hopefully by the time he was a genin he would be old enough to receive his family’s possessions and every story associated. 

Shiui stuck his head inside a particularly heavy box, prodding the textbooks with one finger. “The Fourth knew medical ninjutsu?”

“Rin-chan left me her ninja gear. Said her parents wouldn’t want anything like it.” Tobi twirled a strand of hair around his finger, looking up at the ceiling. “Kakashi-kun left the Hatake stuff to Sensei, so that’s mine now too. I have to hire genin to clean out the house sometimes…”

Shisui almost fell into the box. He stepped back out into the hallway, apparently shocked. “You own the Hatake clan compounds?”

“Who else would?” Tobi shrugged, unbothered. “The house is probably really lonely, but Kakashi-kun wanted it that way. Tobi wants to give it to Naruto when he grows up.” 

“You must care about the ki - Naruto a lot.” Shisui stepped back into the main room, moving towards the windows and glancing out from behind the drawn curtains. “You seem like a kind person, Tobi.”

Tobi just shrugged again. “It’s not Tobi’s things, so…”

“But you care about the things. You want them to be with somebody who would love them.” Shisui rattled the last window a little bit, satisfied, before moving back towards Tobi and sitting down across from him. “Your sensei’s scrolls look really cool. Can you read them?” Tobi stuck out his tongue and shook his head. “Aw, I wonder if they’re bored. Would it be alright if I read a few of them? They seem really cool to me!”

Whatever. Wasn’t as if Minato had any clan secrets. He had secret techniques, but Tobi had stuck those in a sealing scroll in the hollow of a tree. Impossible to access if you didn’t have an eye that turned you into a ghost. “Okay! Shisui’s my friend, he can read them for sure!”

“I’m glad we’re friends, Tobi,” Shisui said earnestly. He poured them both bowls of sake, holding one out to Tobi. “I’m always hanging out and having drinks with my friends, so I thought it’d be fun to do it with you too. This sake’s really nice and sweet, do you want to have a drink with me?”

Was this kid seriously trying to get him drunk? The absolute lack of ethics was pretty impressive. He knew he didn’t even have to be subtle about it, so he was acting completely shamelessly. But his phrasing was precise: Tobi always wanted to make friends and to be treated like anybody else, so he would accept the drink. 

Tobi would have one or two, and if Shisui kept pressing then he’d use a jutsu to metabolize the rest. Then he’d snitch to Itachi. So Tobi cautiously took the sake bowl, sniffing it dubiously, but when Shisui knocked it back Tobi copied him. 

“You were telling me about your favorite television shows earlier, right?” Shisui said, replacing his bowl on the table. His posture was absolutely open and friendly, and his words were easy-going but gentle. “Mega Warriors? What’s happening in the new season?”

“The Village Hidden In The Cave exploded!” Tobi cried heatedly. “It was awesome!”

Honestly speaking, Tobi genuinely loved that show. It killed higher brain functions. Good, clean action fun. He had developed a real taste for television and movies - stuff he never watched as a kid, stuff he barely knew existed. Maybe he watched a bit too much television, but that was the infinite joys of retirement. At least he didn’t sit on his front porch chewing tobacco leaves like every other retired ninja.

Shisui did a great job faking interest. Tobi had to assume it was fake: he had no tells, but no teenager would actually give a shit about a children’s television show. Eventually even Tobi was forced to take pity on the man and switch subjects. It said a lot that Tobi purposefully chose to stop being annoying, boring, stupid, or grating on somebody’s nerves. Fuck, maybe they were friends.

“Um, Shisui-kun?” Tobi swirled his bowl of sake absently. Shisui had refilled his bowl twice, but any more than two might be trouble. Kid really was trying to get him drunk. If he was so dead-set to lower Tobi’s defenses, then Tobi could counter-attack. “Why did you say those things to Mikoto-nee the other day?”

Shisui seemed surprised at the topic change from kid’s shows, but he sobered quickly. He leaned forward, gesturing at Tobi with his own sake bowl. “Because nobody was standing up for you. Nobody ever stands up for you, even when you need it. I wanted to let you know that I was on your side.”

Even Tobi wouldn’t buy this. He looked at Shisui a little skeptically. “Shisui-kun can be nice without being naughty and causing trouble.”

Shisui’s smile was rakish and sharp. “Sometimes a little trouble is what’s best for everybody. Loving somebody doesn’t mean always being nice to them. It means doing what’s best for them. You get that, right?”

“Um…maybe.” Tobi placed the sake bowl on the table, looking away a little awkwardly. “Sensei and Kushina-nee were nice too, though…”

“You think they did what was best for you?” Shisui asked quietly, and Tobi eagerly nodded. His expression softened. “I’m glad. I’m glad that people who loved you were nice and looked out for you. I’m getting worse and worse at the former, but Itachi says I’m not bad at the latter. Thank you for being patient with me.”

“It’s okay! Shisui-kun’s family.” Tobi hated his family more than he hated this village, which said a lot, but that wasn’t the right look. “Tobi thinks Shisui-kun’s really nice, so don’t say bad things about yourself.”

“Thank you, Tobi. We’re family, huh?” Shisui leaned in, dull eyes glinting in the soft lantern light. “Does that mean you trust me?” 

He’d gotten to the point, then. Either Shisui decided it was the right time to make his move, or he decided that he couldn’t afford to wait any longer. If this was Tobi’s op he would have stretched it out for way longer, but he didn’t know what kind of time limit Shisui was working under. And Tobi had the habit of playing the long game, anyway.

Tobi bobbed his head in an enthusiastic nod, brimming with puppy-like sincerity. “Yeah! We’re family, and Shisui-kun is nice!”

With an odd and sideways sincerity, Shisui said, “Thank you for the trust.” He fell silent for a second, drumming his fingers on the table, before finally speaking again. “I hope you don’t mind, but I put some seals on the windowsills. We’re completely in private right now. Nobody can hear or see us.” 

Tobi squinted at him, confused. Maybe he was a bit confused - his alcohol tolerance must have taken a hit over the years. He felt a bit too fuzzy and light for two bowls of sake. “Why did Shisui-kun do that…?”

“So you know that you’re safe,” Shisui said earnestly. He leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. “It’s just you and me, alright? I want you to know that nobody will ever know what we tell each other right now. I’m pretty good at keeping a secret. So is it okay if I ask you to tell me a secret right now?”

How far should Tobi let Shisui take this? He was making his move, and Tobi was admittedly deathly curious to know what he wanted. To know if he needed to deflect anything, and what he needed to deflect. If Shisui was onto him.

He couldn’t be onto him. The idea of him faking it hadn’t even crossed a single Uchiha mind. But Itachi and Shisui’s words echoed loud and clear in Tobi’s mind: that there were many different types of wounds, and many of them hadn’t occurred during war. Tobi would be unsurprised if Shisui had some idea that the damage was psychological instead of neurological. Genma, Kurenai, and Sarutobi had believed the same. Which was close to being onto him, but still very far from actually being onto him.

Focus, focus. It was more difficult than it should have been: the alcohol had hit him strangely hard, leaving him fuzzy and out-of-sorts, and -

The kid had drugged him. Son of a fucking bitch. Letting himself be drugged, fucking amateur hour up in here. He wasn’t up to date on his drug and toxin immunity conditioning. How could he not check the sake for drugs? He knew that the kid was running a grift on him, he should have been more careful. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

What was the specific kind of drug? Fuck, he couldn’t remember. It was definitely a sedative, maybe even a tranquilizer. Why would he use this specific type? Increase physical vulnerability - no point in that, Tobi wasn’t much of a combatant. Induce relaxation and calmness - maybe, if he was trying to avoid a meltdown. Make him more suggestible - that was certain. That had to be it.

So Tobi relaxed, letting his gaze soften and muscles untense. A hair slowly, he said, “I guess, if Shisui’s asking.” 

Shisui’s eyes were dark and dull, and the lines under his eyes were almost as thick as Itachi’s. There was something deep and weighty in them, the Sharingan’s power palpable even when it was deactivated. You could grow lost in those eyes. Or suffocated by them. 

“Will you show me your Sharingan?” 

That was it. That was what Shisui had been after all this time. What the fuck else was anybody ever after. Tobi would give him the same answer he gave everybody. He shook his head and frowned. “Tobi can’t use the Sharingan anymore. Everybody knows that, Shisui.”

“If I walk you through the process, do you think you’ll be able to do it?” Shisui asked. “Do you need help molding the chakra? I can -”

“Tobi can’t do it,” Tobi said firmly. He’d had this conversation again and again and again. “Tobi hasn’t been able to do it for a very, very long time! Tobi’s tried! Tobi’s very sorry, but he can’t help Shisui-kun.”

“Were you awake when they took out your eye, Tobi?”

A hand pressed against the eyepatch, and Tobi realized too late it was his own. He couldn’t say anything. He should have a meltdown and chase off Shisui. But he had the feeling that Shisui couldn’t be chased away so easily. 

“It must have been really scary,” Shisui said. Voice lilting, eyes dark. Almost hypnotic. “I know the Sharingan’s really scary too. But I need to see your Sharingan, Tobi. It’s really important. Won’t you show it to me?” 

Tobi shook his head. He turned away, fully hiding his face. “No. Tobi can’t.”

“I think you’re capable of using it. I think the Sharingan’s very scary, and you don’t want to. But I think you can do it. Tobi, please.” Shisui leaned forward, heavy gaze pinning Tobi in place. “You have no idea how important this is. Please just show me your Sharingan.”

Tobi buried his face in his arms, squeezing his eye shut and separating himself from Shisui as thoroughly as he could without moving an inch. “No! Leave me alone, I can’t do it!”

“Look at me. Look at me, Tobi, please. Does your Sharingan look something like this?”

And, despite himself, Tobi looked. 

Shisui’s eyes were blood red, and his pupils were spinning lazily. It kind of reminded Tobi of a shuriken, circular but sharp and ready to cut. It was fatter and softer than Tobi’s own, but it was similar enough that it was unmistakable.

Shisui Uchiha had the Mangekyo Sharingan.

Interesting. Tobi had thought he was the only one to unlock it since the Founder’s Era. That was what the scrolls seemed to imply, anyway. He had to do some serious digging and hunting and thieving before getting his hands on those top-secret scrolls, but it had been worth it. Anything was worth it, just to learn what the fuck had happened to him. 

Guilt. Tobi eventually surmised that only the most intense guilt could unlock the Mangekyo. Tobi wondered what had made Shisui feel so guilty. Clearly it hadn’t stopped him from continuing to do morally dubious shit. After a guilt so intense and crushing, drugging his brain damaged cousin probably wouldn’t register on his radar.

“Your eye’s weird,” Tobi cried, horrified. “What did you do to your eye?”

But Shisui ignored him. “Is your eye weird too?”

“I can’t see my eye! My eye is gone!” Tobi raised his voice, injecting more and more hysteria into his voice. It wasn’t hard - he was just channeling the panic he was already feeling. Such was the essence of Tobi: the self who felt Obito’s emotions for him. “Are you jealous of my normal eye ‘cause yours is weird? Tobi’s sorry, but that’s not Tobi’s fault! I can’t help you!”

Shisui’s lips thinned, and for the first time he began to look resigned. “You can’t help me, or you don’t want to? Which is it?”

“I really can’t. I’m sorry, Shisui-kun, but I really can’t.” Tobi sniffled, expression contorted in distress and regret. “Don’t you know I want to? It made everyone so sad when I couldn’t. I really would if I could. I just can’t…”

“It’s okay,” Shisui said. He put his hands in his lap, obscuring them from view. “Let me help you. It’s not a good idea to do as much as I can right now, but I can at least do this much.”

“What are you -”

Tobi fell wide awake.

*

Tobi stood in training ground seven.

The sun was bright and hot, but the gentle breeze softened the blow. There was a distant rush of a stream, underlied by the constant cacophony of a hidden village, but their little forest always felt so still and peaceful. He was standing in the small clearing in the center of the training ground, encircled by trees softly pushed by the wind. Their leaves were crisp and orange - red, purple, brown.

Kakashi stood across from Tobi. Just a kid, slouching in his jumpsuit with his hands crammed in his pockets. He blinked lazily at Tobi. Tobi had forgotten that he never brushed his hair. 

“Are you ready to start?”

Tobi blinked at Kakashi, lost. Why was he lost? He was in the training grounds. He looked down at himself and saw the outfit he used to wear. It was all blacks and grays. He had never lost the taste for those colors. “Bakashi…?”

“That’s me, apparently.” Kakashi yawned - which normally severely pissed Tobi off. Take this seriously, Bakashi! “You always work up Rin when you say that.”

“Rin?” Tobi looked around the grounds, suddenly filled with a bizarre desperation. “Where’s Rin?”

“She’s buying bento lunches for us with Sensei. If I don’t pretend to work he’s going to scold me again, so can we just get started?”

“Yeah…sure.” Tobi awkwardly arranged himself into a ready position. It was difficult to position his body correctly. It was as if he’d forgotten how to do it all, and was relying entirely on muscle memory. “Bakashi wants to practice taijutsu, right?”

“I never wanna practice at all, but sure.” Kakashi straightened, cracking his neck and meeting Tobi’s eyes dead on. There was something arresting and heavy about that gaze. “But you have to make it a challenge for me. Fight me using your Sharingan.”

Using his what? “That’s way more work than Bakashi likes.”

“I want to learn how to protect you. That means I have to get stronger.” Kakashi oriented himself into his own ready stance. It was - “Help me get stronger. Fight me with your Sharingan.”

Tobi shook his head, stepping backwards. His body fell out of its ready stance. His body didn’t want to fight. It was just so sick of it. “It was Tobi’s job to protect Kakashi. Tobi was the strongest, so Tobi should have done it. Kakashi feeling like he failed would make Tobi really sad.”

“Don’t worry about it, Obito. You aren’t a failure. Prove it to me, Obito - let’s train.” 

“But I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Kakashi said. “I have faith in you, Obito. I know your strength is within you somewhere. Let’s draw out that strength together, Obito. To protect our precious people.”

That did it. Like stabbing yourself with a kunai or shocking yourself with electricity, that snapped him out of the genjutsu’s hold over his mind. 

Tobi didn’t let you call him Obito. It infuriated him, in that special Tobi way. It wasn’t normally a problem: everybody had adapted remarkably quickly to his new name. But maybe that wasn’t such a surprise. It was very difficult to look at Tobi and see Obito. Nobody liked remembering who he once was. And nobody called him that unless they thought that they would be the lucky winners who achieved the miracle and brought Konoha’s greatest soldier out of retirement. Tobi only heard the name Obito when they wanted something out of him. Something that he couldn’t give. Could you blame him for hating the name?

“Stop calling me that!” Tobi screeched. He bent over double, clutching his head and curling in on himself. “Bakashi wouldn’t call me that! Bakashi loves me! This is made up!”

Insanely casually - so casually that Tobi knew he was making a rapidfire series of hand seals - Kakashi said, “No it’s not. You’re in training ground seven. Kakashi’s standing here with you. You want to turn on your Sharingan.”

“You’re lying! Liar, liar, liar!” Tobi pressed his hands over both eyes. Another hit from the Mangeyko might actually do him in. “Get me out of here, Shisui!”

Amazingly, Kakashi - Shisui, it was Shisui, Kakashi was dead dead dead - just sounded a little baffled. “You shouldn’t have seen through this. My Sharingan’s genjutsus are infallible. How the hell did you -” Shisui gasped, tripping over his own words. “You don’t need to turn on the Sharingan to have the resistance. The only eye that could match up to mine is - I knew it.”

Normally it was very easy to escape a genjutsu once you figured out the game. ‘Kai’ was a simple tool - the chakra equivalent of turning the television on and off again - but it was universally effective. Even the most complex genjutsus relied on the same fundamental physiological principles of the simplest genjutsu, and Kai disrupted all of them easily. 

Tobi made the rat hand sign and shouted, “Kai!”. He opened his eyes and saw -

Kakashi’s face in front of him, only a hand’s width away. His eyes were blood red, spinning like a pinwheel, and the weight of his gaze was almost physical. Tobi locked eye contact with the spiked eyes and found himself unable to escape. His vision tunneled, then swirled, then -

*

Obito stood in training ground seven.

It was the same as ever. Team Minato’s little pocket of peace, where the cacophony of Konoha and the war was shut out of their world. It was hot enough that training would be a bit uncomfortable, but a real ninja always trained in all types of weather. Prepared for anything, that was Obito’s motto. 

Kakashi stood across from Obito. As always, he was slouching in that baggy jumpsuit, hands crammed in his pockets and blinking lazily at Obito. Did he ever brush his hair?

“Are you ready to start?”

“I’m the one who’s been waiting here for an hour!” Obito yelled. He wasn’t sure about that, but it sounded right. “You’re the one holding us up! As always!”

“Maa, sorry.” Kakashi scratched the back of his neck. His body tensed infinitesimally. “I can switch out with Rin, if you want?”

Rin stuck out her tongue. She was sitting on the sidelines with Sensei, relaxing on the soft grass. Her thumb was stuck in one of her omnipresent romance novels. Next to her, Sensei was frantically scribbling over a scroll. “Save me from Obito on the warpath! I’ll take him after you’ve softened him up, Kakashi!”

“Ah,” Kakashi drawled, “so I’m bait again.”

Rin winked cutely. “I prefer the term human sacrifice.”

“Don’t practice human sacrifice,” Sensei said vaguely, without looking up from his scrolls. “That’s…bad. I think.”

“How overdue are those forms, Sensei?” Rin asked. Sensei made a mournful sound. Rin sighed and grabbed a few from the teetering pile next to him, taking a pen from her pocket as she cracked open the scroll. “You do the fighting, boys, I’ll work on something more important.”

“You’re my favorite,” Sensei said feelingly. He still didn’t look up from the scroll. “You are the best student of all time. You’ll definitely become Hokage when you grow up.”

“You never call me your favorite,” Obito said, wounded.

“You’re also my favorite.” Kakashi slowly raised a hand. “Kakashi is my other favorite. You’re all equally the best. Does anybody else want to help me with this formwork?”

Immediately, Obito and Kakashi said in sync, “We’re busy training.” 

Minato’s pen flew across the scroll. “Lazybones, both of you.” Obito puffed himself up in indignation. “Joking! Start your match, you two. Whoever loses has to help me with my paperwork.” Oh, this had stakes now. Obito hated paperwork. Not that he told anybody that. “Don’t forget to use your Sharingan, Obito.”

Obito rolled his eye. He turned to Kakashi, sliding himself easily into a ready position. Across from him, Kakashi did the same. The guy only did work if you threatened him with more work. “Yeah, yeah. Not that I need the Sharingan to beat you, Bakashi.”

“You’ll need to master the Sharingan if you want to be my ANBU Commander,” Rin called out. “Don’t slack off now!”

“Why are you telling me not to slack off!” Obito cried, appalled. “Bakashi is right there -”

Kakashi raised his hand. “I’m just gonna be Rin-chan’s trophy husband.” 

Obito flushed. “That’s - that’s useless, you know that? Be a productive member of society! Why would you waste your life being somebody’s husband?”

For the first time, Sensei looked up. He had the most tragically wounded look on his face. “My life dream is to be a husband.”

Rin looked unimpressed. “You’re next in line for Hokage, Sensei.”

“I never said that was my dream.”

“Then give it to me.”

“Not until you’re eighteen, kiddo.”

“Yeah,” Kakashi drawled, “Konoha won’t survive Hokage Nohara. Give us a few more years to put our affairs in order.” 

“Are we going to train?” Obito cried, exasperated. “We’re wasting daylight! Stop joking around and focus!”

Kakashi gave Obito the fakest wounded look. “Joking around is my only joy in a dreary life, dobe.”

“Jokes are a waste of time.” Obito brought his fists up, activating his Sharingan on pure instinct. He could activate it quicker, more reflexively, more intuitively, than anybody else in his clan. “Now face me, Bakashi!”

The world swirled, then shattered.

Minato Namikaze and Rin Nohara disappeared on the tides of a spring wind. Before him, Kakashi Hatake’s image twisted away into nothingness. Only Shisui Uchiha stood behind him, hands held carefully in the rat seal, eyes swirling in a pinwheel.

When Obito met his eyes he startled and quickly jerked his eyes away, but he didn’t lose grasp of the illusion. It was no surprise that Shisui refused to meet his gaze: the heat of the Mangyeko burned behind Obito’s eyes. 

“Ah,” Shisui said weakly, “you can see me.”

“You absolute brat.”

Shisui’s eyebrows jumped upwards. “Excuse me?”

Obito stalked forward, and Shisui unconsciously leaned back. Obito was vaguely conscious that he must be releasing some killing intent. The Mangyeko’s corrosive power probably magnified that killing intent into a dangerous aura.

“What did you think would happen?” Obito snapped. “My eyes are more powerful than yours. Seeing through this shoddy genjutsu is child’s play. What are they teaching the Uchiha kids these days? If you’re the picture of a Uchiha genius then I hate to see a commonplace Konoha ninja.” 

Shisui froze, eyes widening. “Cousin Obito. It really is you…” Obito lifted an unimpressed eyebrow, and Shisui hurriedly bowed slightly. “I’m Shisui Uchiha. It’s good to see you again, Obito-san. I don’t know if you remember, but we met a few times when I was a kid -”

Obito flapped a hand, cutting off the suddenly polite child. “Yeah, your parents were always showing you off. They wanted me to take you as an apprentice once the war was over.” Shisui froze. Nobody had told him that. No surprise. “Obviously you must have made something great of yourself, since you’re wasting time casting industrial grade genjutsus on me. And drugging me. Thanks for that.”

“It was important!” Shisui cried. He stepped forward, but they both kept avoiding each other’s eyes. “I couldn’t explain to Tobi why it was important, otherwise I would have, I promise.” Yeah, sure. “Don’t give me that look. Do you think I liked doing this?”

“It’s cruel,” Obito said shortly, and Shisui flinched hard. For the first time, Obito wondered if Shisui had a fragile personality. “Go on, then. Tell me what’s so important that you had to somehow find me.”

Shisui took a deep breath. He set his shoulders straight, as if he was finally being brave, but in the end he looked away completely from Obito. “About five years ago, I was on a routine mission with my best friend. We just had the worst fight of our lives. I barely even remember what it was about, but I was so mad. I remember feeling this burning jealousy and panic…maybe it was because of his promotion over me or something. The clan had just begun putting a lot of pressure on me, and he made me feel like a failure. And the routine mission…went bad.” Shisui halted a second, heaving deep breaths, before speaking again. “I just remember thinking that he’s going to take my place as the Uchiha genius. I had that thought at the exact moment he needed me. And he died. Because of a fight over something I don’t even remember and jealousy over a position I never even wanted. I remember realizing this, the truth of my actions fully hitting me, and how I started crying blood. When I looked in a pool of water, I saw that my eyes had turned into this. Fugaku could only guess that the shock and trauma mutated my eyes into this strange form, but that never made sense to me.”

Wait, hold on. “‘Into its strange form’?” Obito asked harshly. “‘Shock and trauma?’. Why didn’t Fugaku tell you about the Mangekyo Sharingan?”’

Shisui stared blankly at the ground. “The what now?”

Holy fucking shit. “Nobody told you about your own fucking eye?” 

“You know?” Shisui cried, and for the first time he raised his eyes to meet Obito’s own eyes. For the first time, Obito saw the desperation in them. “You know what happened to me? Who told you? Does anybody else know?” 

Obito snorted. “Nobody told me. I found out the information for myself.” The ability to become a ghost was fantastic for entering secret vaults, and Madara had written half of ‘Clan Secrets’ in a script that only the Mangeyko could read. Obito knew more about this clan than its fucking hundred year olds. “You guessed what the activation criteria was, didn’t you? That’s why you sought me out. You wanted to see if the other genius Uchiha who murdered his friends scored the bonus too.”

“I was right!” Shisui clenched his fist, eyes spinning in a sick blur. “Our conversation right now confirms it! This thing happened to me because of what happened that day. You and I both failed to save our best friends. I just need to know what it is, how I can use it. I know it can do more than a powerful genjutsu every so often.”

And, because the kid had gone through such incredible amounts of effort for this moment - because he seemed to have reached a level of desperation that could only ever grow deeper and more rotten - Obito told him.

“Maybe Fugaku didn’t tell you because he thought you must have a different eye. Or maybe he thought you were lying to him. Fuck, maybe only the elders know this information anymore. The Uchiha clan believes that the Mangeyko Sharingan is only obtained through killing your best friend.” Shisui’s face turned pale, but Obito shook his head. “No. It’s activated when you watch the loss of the person you love. Personally, I think that it activates when you feel responsible for that loss. When the guilt murders you, when it breaks you, and when a new power rises to fill the void within you.”

Shisui looked away. “Lots of Uchiha have seen a loved one die. But…not that many get the person they loved killed, huh?”

“This information is kept under wraps so nobody goes around trying to kill their loved ones. It wouldn’t work, anyway. Nobody who kills the person they love the most for an eye could ever feel guilty about it.” A sword through a heart. A boulder through a chest. “The Mangekyo strengthens your natural Sharingan. It gives you the ability to summon Susanoo, our clan’s greatest and most ultimate weapon. And it has a technique unique to its wielder. Yours is related to a genjutsu, right?”

Shisui nodded eagerly. “I’ve never used it, but I can sense it. I think it can brainwash people. I sense that it has a long cool-down, but the brainwashing must be absolute. What’s Susanoo? How can I wield it?”

“Visit the sacred shrine in the woods behind the main house. Use your Mangeyeko to read the writing on the wall scroll, then follow its instructions.” Wait, that implied that Obito had discovered all of this after he had brain damage. “I found it while searching for forbidden techniques right before the war ended. These are our most dangerous secrets, Shisui. Tell no one.”

“An ultimate weapon,” Shisui said quietly. He was standing stock-still right in front of Obito, but something inside of him was tensing with excitement. “I bet it could turn the tides of a war. The peace that this weapon could bring…I could bring peace to the Uchiha and Konoha -”

No. Wait, kid, slow your roll. That wasn’t why Obito had fucking told you this.

“Are you joking?” Obito asked flatly. “The Mangeyko could start a war between the Uchiha and the rest of Konoha. Nobody can ever find out about this. You should never use this power.”

“But they’d see the value the Uchiha could bring!” Shisui protested. “The Hokage would know how powerful we are, what an asset we are to the village! If they just respected us -”

“They already think we released the Kyuubi,” Obito snarled, “how would showing off a brainwashing power remotely make them hate us less?”

“Then I’ll brainwash them too!” Shisui cried, and Obito stopped short. “I don’t care how long the cool-down is! I’ll just brainwash the Hokage, tell him to accept us back into the village, and - and wouldn’t that be the best way to fix this? It’s peaceful, easy, and it doesn't hurt anyone!”

Did this kid just fucking say that brainwashing somebody doesn’t hurt them? That explained so fucking much - and how much did that say. 

 Obito grabbed the kid’s collar, reeling him in and shaking him. He realized a little too late that the kid was shorter than him - that Obito’s hand was strong and large. He was an adult again. “Weapons cannot bring peace!” Obito snarled. “Harm does not cure hatred! Committing greater and greater atrocities will not achieve the impossible!”

“They’re not atrocities!” Shisui didn’t struggle in his grip. He just looked at Obito, bright and pleading. As if he truly did want Obito to understand. “And it’s not impossible! Restoring peace between the Uchiha and Konoha has to be possible. They’re depending on me to make it happen. Itachi’s depending on me to make it happen. I’ll do anything if it saves the people I love!”

“You’re a fool,” Obito said coldly. “An idealistic fool. In searching for a perfect solution, you’ll ruin everything. Compromises must be made. If you truly wish to save the people you love, then sacrifice the people you don’t. But there is one thing you must never sacrifice, Shisui.” 

Something in Shisui was so broken. Obito saw it in those red eyes now. “Obito-san…”

“Don’t lose who you are.” There was something aching and broken in Obito’s chest. It scratched his chest with a thousand micro-tears, ripping him open bit by bit from the inside. “Don’t sacrifice your integrity. Don’t parcel out parts of yourself to those who would consume them. Don’t you understand? Those who break the rules are trash, but those who abandon their comrades are worse than trash!” Obito faltered for the first time - not uncertain, but almost afraid. “You’re a good kid, Shisui. Don’t sacrifice who you are for the sake of people who will use you up and spit you out. You deserve better than that. I…deserved…”

He was no longer gripping Shisui’s collar. He was staring far into the distance, lost. The training ground was bright and cheerful, softened by memory and time, and his teammates were far away. They would never come back. There was no home to return to. 

A weight looped around his neck, a body pressed against his, and he realized too late that Shisui was hugging him. It was an awkward and strange weight. Obito couldn’t return the embrace. Holding him like this, forehead pressed against his chest, Shisui felt like nothing more than a scared fourteen year old. As scared and confused as Obito had once been, the day he made his awful choice.

“Do you want me to kill you?” Shisui muttered. “Everyone says that you’re better off dead than…”

Their family was so fucking insane. Shisui thought he was being nice right now. Obito just sighed and put his hand on top of Shisui’s head, indulging a moment of insanity and ruffling his hair. Only Tobi would have ever done that.

“A life is the most precious thing,” Obito said bluntly. “Our society treats people like they’re cheap, lives as if they’re expendable. They’re wrong. Life and living…no matter how difficult the circumstances, we must value life above all else.”

Shisui pulled away, rubbing at his spinning eyes. For the first time he truly seemed miserable. “I don’t care about sacrificing myself for my clan. My life isn’t more important than Mom’s or Dad’s or Itachi’s or Sasuke’s. But are their lives more important than the safety of Konoha? If Konoha’s not safe, they aren’t safe. I don’t know what to do.”

“You can’t please both the Uchiha and the village,” Obito said bluntly. “You’re trying to play both sides and avoid making a decision. Your efforts will topple like a house of cards. And those you tried to save will use you.” Obito put both hands on Shisui’s shoulders, squeezing tightly. He looked him dead in the eyes, hoping that his own gaze was still weighty enough to say what words couldn’t. “Don’t trust Danzo. He wants our eyes for himself. Don’t trust the clan elders. They just want power. Tell nobody about our eyes, Shisui. You must protect both of us. If you don’t, the consequences will be catastrophic.”

Shisui nodded, eyes wide. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Obito-san.”

Not the potential problem. If Obito got busted he’d probably just blow up half the compound and book it. Honestly, he should have already done that. He didn’t know why he was still around. Maybe it was just inertia. Maybe he didn’t want to fend for himself. Maybe he was weak - but there was no ‘maybe’ about that.

“Good. Listen to me now. Hopefully, after this we’ll never speak again.” If the kid tried to pull this a second time then his life was about to become markedly un-precious. “Persevere, Shisui-kun. Value your life. But do not accept evil, in others or in yourself. And remember…remember…” Obito smiled despite himself, shoulders falling. “Remember to have fun, alright? Treasure your one and only life.”

Shisui looked as if he was about to cry, which was assuredly the worst possible outcome of a conversation with a teenager. Obito’s words hadn't even been nice. Had this kid received no positive reinforcement at all? Would Tobi have to be nice to him? 

But Shisui just stepped backwards and bowed to Obito at the waist. The sight of a modicum of respect had grown depressingly novel. “I’m sorry that we’ll never meet again, Obito-san. I’ll study the Mangekyo and unlock its full power. I’ll protect you and Itachi and Sasuke. I promise.”

“Promise me that you’ll trust nobody,” Obito said sharply. Shisui straightened, but he only looked away again. “Live. Even at the expense of everything else. Now get us out of here, you have to be exhausting yourself.”

Shisui formed his fingers into the rat seal, hesitating briefly. “What should I tell Tobi?”

“It’s your life,” Obito said, “not mine.”

His vision tunneled, then faded away, and Obito woke up.

*

Tobi jerked himself awake.

What the fuck. What the fuck had that been? Tobi hadn’t known that he could be trapped in a genjutsu. And Shisui went through all of that effort for - what, chasing a hunch? World peace? A fourteen year old’s idea of problem solving, i.e. brainwashing as many people as possible? Shisui had built a genjutsu even Obito couldn’t escape from. He was wasting his life with that damn loyalty.

Yes - Obito hadn’t been able to escape the genjutsu. He had thought he had. Maybe he couldn’t leave physically, but he had reasoned his mind was intact and uninfluenced. Through the benefit of hindsight, Tobi could see what a delusion that had really been. 

Tobi did not drop the act. Ever. There should have been no ‘accessing the dead genius inside of the moron’. The moron was the genius, that was the point. The first wave hadn’t fooled him - Tobi had been together enough to keep the Tobi mask on, even in the face of such noxious nostalgia. But the second wave pulling him even deeper into his psyche had been too much. Shisui had peeled the mask away, giving him what he expected to see and giving Tobi what he never thought he’d see again. It hadn’t even occurred to him to lie. First he was drugged, then he was caught in a genjutsu…fucking amateur hour up in here. 

“Tobi? Are you alright?”

Rich fucking sentiments from this kid. But Tobi groaned anyway, realizing that his head was pillowed on his arms folded on the table. A light grip shook his shoulder, and he forced his aching head upwards to stare blearily at the faux-concerned Shisui. 

“I think I drank too much,” Tobi groaned. “I had a weird dream.”

Shisui’s face was stone, but that was no surprise. “What did you dream about?”

Tobi yawned widely, pushing away toppled bowls of sake. “That I was walking on a tightrope, and if I fell I’d die. One part of the ground was boiling water, and the other part was lots of fire. It was super scary. Then I fell and…I don’t know where I landed…”

If Shisui was surprised that he didn’t dream of the obvious thing, he didn’t show it. He just clasped Tobi’s elbow, gently helping him upwards. “Sounds scary. Let’s get you to bed, alright? Thanks for hanging out with me, I had fun.”

“Tobi’s happy that we had fun.” Tobi yawned widely, covering his mouth with both hands, but he slitted a sharp look at Shisui from the corner of his eye. Shisui always stood in Tobi’s field of vision. “Did Shisui-kun get what he wanted?”

Shisui froze. This was a risky move on Tobi’s part, but he knew that it would pay off. “What I wanted?”

“Tobi used to be a very good ninja,” Tobi said reproachfully. “Tobi can taste gross things in his drink.” Shisui jerked backwards, paling. “Did Shisui-kun get what he wanted?”

“I…” Shisui looked away, but Tobi watched as he forced himself to stare directly into Tobi’s eyes. Tobi wondered what he was searching for - the Mangekyo? Obito? Or if he only knew that Tobi wouldn’t register eye contact as a threat? “No. I got what I was looking for, but…not what I wanted. I’m sorry. I hurt you for no reason.” 

What had Shisui truly wanted? Maybe even he didn’t know. Maybe he had wanted somebody like him. Life as a genius was lonely. Maybe part of him, silly and irrational as he knew it was, hoped that his eye could ‘fix’ Tobi where everyone else had failed. Or maybe part of him had wanted an adult he could trust, and all he received was a man who hadn’t seen daylight for a long time. 

Tobi put a hand on Shisui’s head. He smiled down at him, bright and easy. “It’s okey-dokey, Shisui-kun! If you need help, just come to Tobi. Got it?”

“Got it,” Shisui said quietly. “Thank you.”

“No problem - wow, I’m dizzy!”

Shisui helped Tobi to bed, and he gratefully fell unconscious. It was the best night’s sleep he’d had in forever. Honestly? Made the whole thing worth it. 

The Sharingan etched what it saw into its bearer's mind forever. The Mangekyo’s power could make you feel as if you were still there - forever trapped within that moment.

Kakashi’s crushed body. Rin’s smile as Obito impaled her. Kushina’s lifeless body. And the rising tidal wave of corpses behind them: the dozens of ninjas Obito had killed in his life, the untold quantities of destruction and death he’d witnessed with his own eyes. Obito remembered the faces of every person he’d ever killed. It wasn’t a small number.

Tobi forgot. At some point, Tobi had become the only way to forget. He never used the Mangeyko Sharingan: not just afraid of its power, but incapable. 

He did not realize he had a whole-ass personal dimension until much, much later. This was what he got for running from his problems.