#I write a lot of fanfic okay

[bodythieves]

shane mccutcheon x you | cw: intox!makeout, slight fingering?, dirty talk-ish | stoner!shane, neighbor!shane, anxious!reader (is that how i label this shit?)

THIS IS RLY LONG!

okay, okay. let's be honest here: you are not one for change. you are not one to break out of your routine, one to sway from your typical path. no, rather, you are steadfast in every moment of your day, to an absolute t. some of your friends like to tease you until your skin feels hot, and you look down at your feet. you have a google calendar (your lord and savior) and a prescription for an unnamed anxiety medication that you'd-rather-not-talk-about.

and shane. oh, god, shane mccutcheon. shane was your neighbor in a shitty LA apartment, a hairstylist/absolute fucking menace. every other day, she's sitting on the stoop, feet flat on the ground and elbows on her knees, a cigarette dangled between her lips. she'd smile, check you out- go to say something. but you- being you, of course- would quickly swing open the and duck inside.

today was particularly awful for you, though. your therapist had broken up with you. he was moving to a new practice, they didn't accept your insurance, and you had just gotten so comfortable. remember how we made it known that you weren't great with change? the smallest thing could make you itch. make you feel as if you had lost everything, like it all was over. so, understandably, you were having a meltdown inwardly that you couldn't let out until you reached the sanctuary of your one bedroom apartment and closed that manager's-special, white door. except you wouldn't be doing that, no. not now. because you felt your face betray you as you neared the pathway that led to the glass vestibule of the apartment complex. there she was.

"oh, look," she snorts softly through her nostrils, her lips quirking up into a smile upon seeing your own (even if it was microscopic). she had just sat down to smoke as you neared, her lithe frame hunched over as she picked through a paper cigarette pack. "didn't know you were able to do that." tracking shane's movements, your eyes followed the brunette as her slender fingers plucked out a cigarette, and brought it to that smug grin.

"I've smiled at you before." you said this far quicker than you would've liked to. quick enough that shane could tell you were already nervous. your paces brought you to the cement set of steps before the vestibule, the glass reflecting a soft glare from the setting LA sun. as you came closer, you let your gaze drift over her. shaggy brown hair, a charming disposition- definitely was trying to make you laugh. you cleared your throat, then looked back at Shane's cigarette before she lit it. "do you.. care if i bum one of those?"

um, who the fuck is that? why are you asking for a cigarette right now? oh, that’s right. you were being you when faced with uncomfortable amounts of difference in your typical day-to-day life. your therapist dumped you, your job is mundane, your family is incessantly nagging you, your anxiety is never-

“oh?” shane perked up, the filter of her cigarette now between her teeth as she smiled, rather than her lips. dark green eyes sparkled playfully, but her brows pushed up in an attempt to feign sympathy. she could tell you were feeling off today. after all, you were speaking. “yeah, sure, of course,” she said, fingering open the back with her thumb and taking a look. something about shane’s voice sounded so teasing. as if she wanted to sound like she’d take care of you, like she was worried. her left hand moved up to pull the cigarette from her teeth and her tongue darted out to wet the corner of her lip. A small tsk could be heard from her. “mm.. I only got my lucky left. you don’t care to share, do you?”

you were gonna faint. you were gonna fall over, die, cream your fucking pants. yeah, of course, you thought shane was hot before. why else would you avoid her every time she tried to holler at you? you couldn’t handle that. like we established earlier- you’re a hazard when your schedule is disturbed. but now? right here, standing just a couple feet away from a shane, engaging in conversation, breaking your perfectly time-alotted pattern? the thing that kept you distracted from all the shit of your daily experience? you’d never seen anything hotter.

you felt your body begin moving against your will, sitting down beside shane without missing a beat. your feet became brutus, your mind julius, crying why! you too?! you’re betraying me! as you turn and allow the backs of your sneakers to hit the cement step, lowering yourself down. part of it was definitely to show yourself off to shane. at least a little bit. if you were going to deter from your repetitive habits, why not be a little risky? flirt a little? on the other, you just needed to know that another person was real. what better proof is proximity? “yeah, that’s cool,” your voice is quiet as you take in the sight of shane so close and in such pretty light, your nerves absolutely eating at you.

her lighter was lime green and struggled to spark at first. instinctively, you reach out. you cup your hand around the lighter and use your fingers to hide shane’s cigarette. smoke curls from her nose and she pulls her face away, pinching her brows together as the cigarette began to spark. nodding a silent thank you for your assistance. hush sounds of burning paper, then a cloud of smoke, exhaled through the woman’s nose- you begin to forget. why had you never really spoken to her before? why do you avoid interaction like this?

“well,” shane mumbled from the butt of the cigarette, more smoke leaving her nose. “you have a pretty smile.”

you and shane sit in a friendly silence for a moment, but it’s quickly changing. you can feel that shane is checking you out. of course she is- you’re insanely cute. with high features that are just soft enough, making you so easily approachable. if only you weren’t an anxiety attack on legs! taking a glance at her, you can feel your heart pick up motion in your chest, thrumming inside of your work uniform. shane puts her fingers to her lips and pulls the cigarette away with her thumb and forefinger.

“you smoke weed?” you asked her, raising your eyebrow. your fingers moved, taking the cigarette between your own thumb and finger.

“uh,” she said, starting to let out a chuckle. “i mean, yeah. why?”

“you hold it like you’re smoking a joint.”

“hm,” shane smirked a little, letting you take the cigarette from between her fingers. “do you smoke?”

you shrug a little, taking a slow pull from the dart of tobacco, letting the thick smoke hit your throat and sit for a second. it had been a long time since you’d had one, and it always felt so right when you needed it. “sometimes,” you said, still holding your drag in your throat. “gives me bad anxiety on occasion. try to steer away from it.”

“damn,” shane’s green eyes rake over the side of your face, taking in your features as you blew out a faint stream of smoke. “you think this could be one of your sometimes?”

you pass the cigarette back, turning your head slightly to the left so you can look at shane. a sheepish expression crosses your lips and you mull over the thought. but only for a minute.

“yeah. honestly, i could probably use it.” what was a little more change? what was a little more anxiety? at this point, neither could push you any further than you already were. your response to shane’s question caused the brunette to smirk around the filter of the cigarette, and she nodded as she exhaled. you two sat for a few minutes after, sharing the smoke. there weren’t really any words spoken, but the lack of conversation was made up for in exchanged glances. you took a final drag of the cigarette, then dropped it on the ground and used the toe of your shoe to step it out.

simultaneously, you and shane stood on your feet from the stoop of the apartment complex. you looked her over- taking in her tall and dangly frame, hidden beneath a dark gray zip up and loose jeans, hanging from her hips. her shaggy hair was flippy and chopped, a small blonde tuft in the back. she was.. god, she was actually so cute. you looked away for a second, remembering that you were about to join her. upstairs. in her apartment. and smoke weed. with hot cheeks, you turned on your sneaker and moved on to the cement steps, pacing towards the glass door and slipping your key inside. shane’s presence was looming. literally. you felt her come up behind you and grab ahold of the metal frame just above your head, pulling it open wider so you could get in.

christ, you thought. you were betraying everything you knew: routine, mundanity, consistency. to go hang out with your neighbor who brought home new girls every other night, who smoked out the whole complex, who always smiled at you when she saw you. fuck, fuck, fuck- sneakers, both yours and shane’s, lightly thudded on the linoleum steps of the apartment hallway, bouncing off walls. jeez, focus long enough, you were certain you could hear your heartbeat echo back to you. oh, god, oh, god, oh, god- you stand behind shane, she leads you into her apartment. messy, disorganized, totally not you. you are well kept, you are neat, you are- totally about to jump this woman’s bones. you realize this as Shane sits down on her futon, legs spread wide, her lap just begging for you to come sit on it. oh, god. fuck. oh, god, oh-

“fuck,” you breathed out. you’d had to have been holding that in forever, lungs burning and eyes clenched tight. your head fell back on to the arm of shane’s futon and you could’ve sworn that this was all just a dream. that joint was either insanely strong, or you were losing time because of your previously high levels of anxiety and tension. ‘relax’- she had whispered to you, just before this heated session- ‘let me take care of you. i know what i’m doing, swear. only if you want me to.’ of course you wanted to. to deny that would be an absolute lie.

you feel shane’s breath fan against your neck, the sensation warm and all-consuming. her nose pushing against your jaw and nestling below your ear, soft lips brushing along your skin, ringed fingers slipped up your shirt and ghosted her fingers over your naval, teasing gently at a metal piercing that lay in the skin. her smile could be felt against your neck and she reared back, leaning on to the heels of her feet with a playful grin. her eyes sparkled and she pulled the hem of your shirt up with her right hand, then moved her left from the back of the futon. that hand made its sneaky way to your thigh, pushing your knee into the futon’s black fabric.

“that’s cute.”

“yeah?”

“oh, for sure. you.. got another one?”

“no,” you murmur shakily. you suddenly wished you had more. wished you’d succumbed to those thoughts of impulsivity that rushed through your brain when your spiraled out of control. you thought, for a moment, it would’ve made you more attractive. but… it seemed like shane didn’t mind it. she dropped your shirt and brought that right hand to her mouth, running her thumb and forefinger over her chin. her left then took hold of your black slacks, the uniform for your job, her forefinger hooking into a belt loop.

“that’s okay,” she said, looking at you through her lashes, letting her hand fall as she spoke. “you’d look really good with some more.”

you can’t do this any longer you are losing grip now. you shift your hips desperately, the futon squeaking annoyingly beneath you, but you brush it off. your nerves are shot, you’re insanely horny, you need to get this shit out of your system. “shane,” you mumble lowly, trying to get her attention. you succeed.

but first, she cracks that teeth-rotting smile. the one just sweet enough to make your mouth hurt, and sexy enough to make you sick. then, she does it. she leans in again, and you are full on making out. no longer just slowly kissing, clouded in a smoky haze, kisses tasting of resin and cigarettes. her lips are so soft, her fingers nimble and dexterous as they cup the small of your back. she pulls you. up, into a sitting position, and wraps her palm around the nape of your neck to hold you there. the hand that had pulled you shifted once more as shane lay back on to the futon, and you went right with her. she was handling you. not forcibly, no, but gently, enough to just guide you.

and seeking a safety net in your crumbling control, you let her. you slid into position, right in shane’s lap like you’d wanted to be in the first place. perfect. hanging your head low, you pushed down against your neighbor’s lap and felt yourself rush with a specific heat you only experienced when you knew you weren’t supposed to be doing something. foreheads pushed together, lips a breath apart, you closed the gap. your hands brace the sides of shane’s head and your knuckles nearly turn white from how hard you grasp on to the wooden frame.

shane’s kiss is absolutely filthy. she’s licking, drawing your mouth open as if it were a profound cavern she was in dire need to explore, pulling air from your lungs. you aren’t sure how you’re still feeling at this point, but a trace of shane’s touch runs down across your belly button piercing again and pulls at the button of your slacks. expertly, her lips never once stop moving as the plastic black button pops and she teases down your zipper.

you. oh, you have never been so hungry. you were starving. fuck schedules. fuck routine, to hell with repetition. what was it for anyway? to be comfortable? being comfortable never brought you into situations like this. without thinking, one of your hand relents from the frame and rushes to grab shane’s hand, pushing at her wrist so her fingers would cup just above your underwear, palm right over your pubis. you hadn’t shaved in awhile. though you were tidy, you hadn’t had any in awhile. shane liked it though. you could tell based on how she smiles against your mouth.

words no longer suffice. you clench violently around nothing, your need so heavy that you feel your pulse in the depths of your center. shane pulls away only for a moment to gaze into your eyes as she pulls the fabric of your slacks just slightly past your hips. enough to where she can push your underwear to the side and tuck her fingers against your warm skin, and enough to watch you react.

“you..” shane nearly moans out the word. “you’re.. stupid wet right now.” her brows turn up and she parts her lips, leaning forward on to futon so she could be closer to you. her fingers moved. and you’d never felt something so good. silver rings, soft fingertips, hands that knew what they were doing. you shuddered and jerked, nearly squealing as she ran her thumb over your clit. she looked like she was about to worship you. like she was ready to pray to you. she was so adorable, somehow.

“yeah,” there’s hardly anything but desire behind your voice now. “yeah, i.. i told you-“ you grunt and jerk your hips.

just as Shane’s fingers begin to move in circles, your eyes flutter shut and you begin rocking your hips.

“i needed that joint.”

shane hums out a low chuckle and nods her head. her thumb leaves your clit for only a moment. brushing south and rubbing along your entrance, she eases the truth from your lips.

“i hoped it would end with this, too.” you tone was airy, so overwhelmed with need that you could hardly hear yourself speak.

and just like that, how the truth did set you free. shane’s lips met yours and she kissed you so slowly. lips locked passionately, as if she were thirsty and the only refreshing thing was your kiss. her fingers moved back to your clit, stroking and pushing in motions that rounded your hood with horrifying ease. this was too good. this was great. this was perfect.

you were never going to stick to routine ever again.

notes: okay that’s it im done Im so sorry to lead up so much to barely anything at all but. BUT I GOT NERVOUS. ANYWAY HERE’S THIS IM TAGGING @thestarkillers bc ik they love shane the way i do and this is for them ok bai ALSO i wrote the second half of this drunk. enjoy!

[myokk]

In one swift move, he scoops her up and places her so that she's sitting on the window-ledge, the dusky light of the sunset illuminating her from behind and making her wispy flyaway hairs a golden halo around her. Sebastian's breath catches in his throat - has he ever seen anything so beautiful as her in that moment? - she's staring up at him, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, her breathing shallow and anticipation in her eyes.

From my oneshot, clumsy🫶🫶🫶

(requested by @holdmymallowsweet 🤭 my fellow light lover🫶)01

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: risk taking behavior / circumstantial self harm kinda / ignoring of injuries / self-depreciation / slight ooc-ness but for a reason! / ]

Post invasion, Leo is fine.

More than fine! He’s better than before, even. That is, if you don’t count the slightly cracked shell and still healing bones, but those are only a problem when the weather wants them to be!

Leo really is better in the ways that matter.

He’s not as cocky, not as self-centered, and overall just more heroic in general if he does say so himself.

Raph even said he was proud of Leo!

So obviously things are going well.

But.

It’s not enough.

Leo’s better, sure, but he’s still got work to do.

So - and here’s something that will probably make his brothers faint on the spot - he needs to train.

_____

His brothers do not faint, but it’s a near thing for Raph. Mikey has to fan the snapper’s face and Donnie almost brings out the smelling salts before Raph shoots back to his feet with an excited grin.

Leo’s big brother gets teary eyed soon after and envelops him in a bear hug, saying once again how proud he is that Leo is growing up.

Leo lets himself be hugged, even hugs back as fiercely as he can, because unbeknownst to Raph, this marks the end of Leo’s childhood.

He lets himself be hugged like a kid one last time, looking through the hole in Raph’s shell all the while.

_____

Leo only trains the regular way with his brothers and occasionally April and the Caseys, but most especially Raph.

But of course that’s not enough, it was never going to be.

So he goes through the motions of the stretches, the spars, the meditation, and then he leaves.

He makes sure to have his excuses ready, usually defaulting to Hueso as his go to since his brothers are easily bought off with the promise of pizza. Leo hasn’t yet found the tracker Donnie installed in him, but when he does that’ll be dealt with too! But for now, this should be good.

See, the invasion made him realize something.

It’s not about him, but it was his shortcomings that led to everything going to hell.

So he just…needs to get rid of those shortcomings.

He’s working on it, gaining fighting skill in training, but there’s more he needs to do, more skills he needs to train.

Leo watches intently as Repo Mantis swindles someone, he memorizes the sleight of hand that Hypno performs, he sneaks back into the Mystic Library and is so quiet the hush bats forget he’s there, he talks Big Mama into honing his manipulation, and he even sneaks into human hospitals and reptile veterinary clinics to get a clue on more serious injuries.

And after any of these, he heads to Run of the Mill to compete in the Maze of Death.

_____

This is his twelfth time going through the (newly remodeled and even more deadly) Maze of Death, and would be his fifth time winning. The first three times had him waking up in Hueso’s office, and each time he wakes his old persona shines through.

He always waves off Hueso’s annoyance and questions and insists on trying again next time before he steals some pizza and bails.

The skeleton actively tries to stop him from entering the Maze after the first time, but hey- mystics are allowed before you enter.

It’s easy enough to teleport on by.

Harder to meet Hueso’s - and later his brothers’ - eyes when he fails again.

When he first actually won, Hueso congratulates him in that typical deadpan tone of his.

“Ah, felicidades, Pepino. Now you can move on, sí?”

“Hm? Nah, boneman! That run was sloppy!”

And then Leo runs off before Hueso can stop him.

He doesn’t even look at his picture on the champion wall when he next comes around. It’s not much to look at anyway.

_____

His second win is much like the first, and only his third win is actually acceptable.

But he knows the field too much now. He needs a challenge.

When he attempts to go through it blindfolded, he’s quickly shown how much he doesn’t know the Maze. So, obviously, he loses again.

He got a bit more banged up that time around.

“Pepino, basta ya, you’ve already won. Where are your brothers?”

“I can’t stop yet, señor! This is for my brothers - no les digas, please.”

Even if Hueso wanted to tell Leo’s brothers, they haven’t been in enough for him to get to, and it’s not like Hueso has their number since Leo’s the one Hueso usually contacts. For now, Leo’s safe to continue as is.

Though his injuries are getting harder to hide, and there’s only so much his shell in particular can take.

So to speed things up, he incorporates the blindfold into his regular training.

His brothers question it, of course, but hey, he initially got the idea from seeing Lou Jitsu do it in the third best Lou Jitsu movie, so it comes as a great excuse now.

He’s only a little put off by how fast Mikey adapts to it when the others try.

“I dunno-“ Mikey shrugs when asked, “You guys shine so brightly anyway, a mask doesn’t do much.”

Seeing their mystic energies is pretty cool, Leo can admit.

He just wishes he could grasp that himself - and that it was useful for a death maze.

_____

Leo’s training pulls off eventually, and soon, after a few more losses, he wins a forth time. But it’s a near loss, and a near loss is the difference between someone living and dying.

He’s gotta go again.

Hueso’s more insistent than ever, though.

“You must stop, Pepino.”

“But I can do better-“

“You don’t have to! Your shell is bleeding - ¡por tu propio bien, poner fin a esto!”

“I told you, this is for their own good! For everyone’s own good!”

He forgets the pizzas when he leaves. He claims sickness when he hides under his covers.

He ignores how childish the act makes him feel.

_____

Leo’s getting better, and his reflexes and tact in training shows this. His other training of his subterfuge and medical skills also prove to be useful.

He’s pretty good at hiding injuries, now! Though not so good at hiding a pained shell. Even Donnie looks at him with blatant concern (and understanding) when Leo can’t help but take a sharp breath whenever he lands on his back.

It’s hard not to go right back into waving everything off with jokes like he used to. Deflections are easier when they’re annoying!

But- this is just another reason that he needs to get better, right? So his brothers won’t worry. He doesn’t need the spotlight anymore - he’s over that, thanks.

He squashes down the part of him that perks up when Splinter says he’s growing up. He actively kills the part of himself that cries at the same phrase.

_____

So. Yeah. This’ll be his twelfth time running the Maze. And, hopefully, his fifth win. Maybe he really will move on after this.

The Hidden City is pretty big! There’s probably a bigger challenge somewhere.

Maybe Big Mama has a more secret Nexus hidden away, out of the public eye.

Well, whatever. That’s a future problem for him to figure out, yeah? For now, he carries on like usual, teleporting to the entrance of the Maze and diving right in.

Even blindfolded, he works his way through, dodging and weaving and feeling as he goes. He even tries to evoke his inner Mikey and calls on his mystic energy. Not enough to cheat, but enough to feel.

Usually, when Leo teleports, he swears he feels every part of himself disperse into particles. Now, with energy thrumming under his scales, he can feel particles everywhere.

It’s not refined enough to tell him everything, and he gets a fun new burn and a nice whack to the back by getting distracted. Still, it gives him more than he had before. It makes him more aware of everything, like he licked a finger and held it in the air to feel the direction of wind, but every direction blew wind, all in different ways.

He makes it to the end with minimal injuries after that, and sure, his shell is screaming at him now, but he thinks he did a shell of a good job.

…Ah, he needs to cut that out, huh? Man. Maybe Donnie’s collar idea was a good call after all.

Leo needs to be a hero. Not a face man. Not a failure.

Not a kid.

_____

Leo doesn’t smile when the Minotaur takes his picture again for the champion wall, and he doesn’t listen when she tells him to “go home and never come back.”

He doesn’t plan to, anyway, yeesh.

He’s tired as he trudges out of the exit, and Hueso catches him when he stumbles.

Hueso doesn’t say anything. Leo doesn’t either.

Or, he doesn’t, until he feels a familiar large hand helping him up as well.

Leo’s face whips up as he flinches back, eyes wide as they meet with a worried (so, so worried) Raph’s.

“You told them?” Leo asks Hueso in betrayal, heart thudding wildly in his chest.

“Pepino…”

“Told us what?” Mikey pipes up from behind Raph, coming closer to get a better look at Leo, “Leo, what’s going on?”

“Your shell has been having pretty big setbacks on its healing, is this why?” Donnie demands, glaring fiercely as he motions toward the Maze.

Leo feels unmoored. “I-“

“Leo.” Raph interrupts, and no Leo doesn’t want to hear it- “Are you okay?”

And Leo wants to say “it’s not about me”. He wants to say anything that proved he learned his lesson, that he’s not a liability or worse, an active danger to his own family.

He wants Raph to continue being proud of him. He wants his brothers to trust him.

Instead, he passes out.

_____

The next time his eyes open, Leo’s on his side, staring at his blue lava lamp.

He knows without looking that his shell is re-bandaged. He knows his other injuries have been dealt with too.

And unless Leo learned how to do some pretty impressive medical sleepwalking, he knows he’s not getting away this time.

All three of his brothers being in his room prove that.

“What’s been going on, Leo?” Mikey asks, and his voice cracks partway through.

He’s looking at Leo like he’s searching for something, but Leo doesn’t have anything to show. Nothing’s hidden, he just did some light spring cleaning is all, throwing out all the parts he didn’t need.

All the parts they didn’t need.

And yet despite everything, he can feel himself falling back into old ways, a grin tugging at his beak and lackadaisical deflection on the tip of his tongue.

Maybe he should let that part of him show, just for once. It wouldn’t seem like too much of a setback would it? And he could really use a fun pun right about now-

No.

No it’s not about him. He needs to remember why he did all this in the first place.

“Okay- sorry, guys.” He smiles, softly, quietly, “I guess I got too caught up in training. I’ll work at it some more, don’t worry.”

“Oh, I see. Training. That’s all it was, huh? Training.” Donnie hisses more than says, nearly vibrating in anger.

“…yeah?” Leo nods slowly, because, uh, that’s literally the most honest thing he said. It was training.

“If it’s just “training” then why the secrecy, hm? Why in Curie’s good name did you prefer to sneak around rather than, oh, I don’t know, tell your family?”

Leo feels his shoulders rise at Donnie’s aggression, defensiveness welling up in him, “It was my training! Nothing went wrong, I’m getting better!”

“Better?” Raph asks incredulously, “Leo, you’re wasting away. A tap to the shell stuns you for minutes, you lost weight, and your dark circles are worse than Raph’s ever seen them! You aren’t getting better-!”

“YES I AM!”

The words rip out of Leo before he can stop them.

The room is silent as his brother look at him, all wearing expressions of hurt that Leo put there again.

“Yes I am.” Leo reiterates, shaking, “Because- if I’m not-“ He squeezes his eyes shut. “If I’m not-“

Then what was all this for?

Arms slowly wrap around him, and he knows now from the feel of the mystic that it’s Mikey.

“You’ve gotten faster, and sneakier.” Mikey says quietly. “When I accidentally cut my hand, you knew exactly how to take care of it.” His voice grows firm, and he backs out of the hug, “But those are your skills. You, though, you’ve been…you’ve been…”

“You’ve been dilapidating before our very eyes, and trying to hide it.” Donnie finishes, jaw tight. “You think we wouldn’t notice? After everything?” To Leo’s horror, Donnie’s voice is hoarse with tears, “You absolute dumb dumb.”

“I- but I need to train. The Maze is-“

“Leo, we don’t care that you ran through the Maze. We care you did it alone.” Raph says quietly. “We could have joined you, any time.”

“But- but I’m doing this for you-“

“Listen to your brothers, Blue.” They jump as a new voice joins the fray, heads turning to see Splinter make his way into the - frankly crowded - room.

“Dad, I-“ Leo begins, but trails off, suddenly more unsure than ever in the face of his father.

“It’s good you’re finally picking up training! Especially for your brothers’ sakes! But there’s such a thing as going overboard, you know.” Splinter pokes a sharp claw into Leo’s plastron, “Just because you’re dragging it out this time, doesn’t make this any less of a sacrifice. My son, you’ve taken after Karai an awful lot, haven’t you?”

Leo just looks at his father. At his brothers. Then, he looks down at his calloused hands, bandaged and scarred from overuse.

He swallows dryly. “Is that a bad thing?”

He feels his family crowd in around him, feels his father’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not wrong to want to be better, Leonardo.” Splinter says, softly and with so much grief and guilt that Leo can never begin to understand, “But you were never bad to begin with.”

Leo’s breath hitches.

“And-” Splinter’s hands rise up to frame Leo’s face. “You are much too young to ever consider sacrifice the best answer.”

“You got me to relax, Leo. So I’ll do the same for you.” Raph grins, eyes wet, “We’re still kids, right?”

And-

Leo smiles, watery but genuine. “Yeah, Raph. We are.”

[babychosen]

save a horse (ride a cowboy)

8pm, Friday. Red dress. Booth near the end of the bar, by the dart board.

She forgot how demanding the text felt, but it had only encouraged her to want to show up even more.

[wickjump]

im gonna start posting fanfic recs btw whenever i find good ones. both here and my (awfully barren) 18+ account. because there are so many good fics out there with so few hits and fewer kudos and sometimes no comments period and it SUCKS because i REALLY LIKE THEM A LOT.. and i hope that by linking them here and yelling at everyone to COMMENT DAMMIT they might actually do it

seriously though any comment means a lot. most people who read a fic don’t even give a kudos. even if the fic wasn’t top tier, if you didn’t dislike it, hand over some kudos!! and if you liked it, comment!!!! even if the comment is one singular heart emoji it will be appreciated. if the comment just says “great fic!” the author will be happy. your comment doesn’t have to be this long winded gushing or analysis.

so many authors quit writing or lose motivation because the comments are few and far in between or just sometimes nonexistent. trust me when i say authors don’t care about how long or cool or smart sounding your comment is i promise!!!

i hope that mmmaybe recommending fics and telling people to comment might help fics i really like get more support maybe. and i, points at you reading this, hope that you will listen!!!at least a little….at least sum kudos….

[epicfirestormer]

[angronsjewelbeetle]

Oh? What's this? A drabble?

Tagging @ms--lobotomy and @whorety-k <3

Saccharine

"You make me feel as though I'm seeing the world in colour for the first time," Ferrus says softly, warm firelight making his arms glitter, golden-bronze instead of silver. He gazes at the fire for a long moment, mirror-like eyes nearly glowing; he sighs deeply, relaxing into the chair, your body moves with his, sliding a little further into his lap by the rising of his knees. He wraps his arm around you, metal warm against you as he drapes it around your waist, the other resting on your thigh, a comforting weight as he strokes your leg.

Ferrus dips his head, pressing a gentle kiss to your brow, a fond smile on his lips making his cheeks dimple. "I am so lucky to have found you," he murmurs, and then, even quieter, like a raw secret, "I love you," he whispers into the top of your head, lips brushing barely enough for you to feel it. "Rest, my Quartz," he says as you lean into his chest, his hearts thudding comfortingly under your ear, torso warm against your cheek, "I'll be here when you wake,"

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ 𝚃𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎… ~

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝟷𝟺: 𝙰𝙵𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙷˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊· ̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟹𝟾𝟶

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚋𝚢 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚘𝚘𝚝…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚝.

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙲𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 (𝚂𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 ✊🏾😔) 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜. 𝚈'𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕: 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!!!˚*•̩̩͙✩•

“Alright...well, that wraps that up. You’re all good to go, Mikes.” Donnie said as he finished wrapping the youngest’s arm up in bandages. 

The orange banded turtle smiled slightly, giving his immediate older brother a tight hug which the other gladly returned. 

“Thanks…” The smaller turtle said, burying his face into the crook of the other’s neck as they embraced. 

The scientist in purple smiled softly at the gesture, resting his chin on the top of the younger’s head, “It’s no problem. After all, it is what I do.” He said casually, slowly breaking away from the hug as he put the remainder of the bandages to the side of the Med-Bay counter.

Michaelangleo nodded, hopping down from the Med-bay bed and putting on his signature orange hoodie that was resting on a clothing hanger. Donatello let out a soft snort, raising an amused eyebrow ridge at his immediate younger brother, “Whahat’s with the random wardrobe change? You look like a bloated frog.” 

The baby blue eyed turtle let out a feigned gasp, clutching his chest dramatically, “Fihirst ohof all: fuck you. And second of all: I look haaaandsome in this!” He huffed, “Don’t you agree, Leo?” The orange cladded teen said as he turned to the eldest who was sitting on the other bed.

But Leonardo did not make a sound…or…literally any acknowledgement that he even heard the youngest. 

The leader in blue was looking at the tile floor; his eyes glossy as he fiddled with his fingers absentmindedly. 

Donatello sighed, resting his hand on Mikey’s shoulder, “…Leo’s been…shaken up since the ambush; you know how he gets. He’s most likely making up a wholeeeee simulation in his head on how he could’ve 'protected us better…'”

Mikey hummed lightly, crossing his arms and looking at the eldest who was genuinely oblivious to the staring, “…What a weirdo…” 

“Yeah…he is.” The young genius commented back, shaking his head fondly, “But he’s our weirdo.”

“Ohoooo no. Noooo no no no no. That was way too freaking cringy…even for you, Dee.” The younger teen fake-gagged, pretending to throw up as Donnie only snickered at the immature action. 

This is what he gets for trying to be sentimental in front of his younger brother…

As the freckled face mutant continued with his antics, amping it up a million notches as Raph came in…the tallest turtle couldn’t help but catch a glance at his big brother once again.

Leo looked…so dejected…so…so lost.

Donnie exhaled sadly, rubbing his hand anxiously. 

…Splinter would know what to do at a time like this…he always knew what to do at times like this…

Then…worried green eyes met an unsure russet.

Raphael walked to his immediate younger brother, squeezing his hand gently, “…You okay, Don…?”  

Donatello cleared his throat, his free hand flapping near his thigh…

…God, he missed his Dad…

…He missed him so fucking much…

“I-I’m…fine. I’m fine.” The scientist insisted, gently squeezing his older brother’s hand back, “I just…need to patch up Leo and talk with him for a bit…”

“Aye aye 'Captain.” Mikey saluted, giving Donnie a quick peck on the cheek before skedaddling away to the lounge area. 

The middle children rolled their eyes fondly at the youngest’s actions as the green eyed one of the three let go of the tallest’s hand, “…You sure you’re okay?”

“…Y-Yeah…y-yeah, I’m okay.” Donnie grimaced, “Now please go to Mike before he decides to blow up the entire lounge area…” He snickered lightly. 

“Blowing up things is your job, Einstein. But I’m on it.” The elder snorted fondly, walking to the exit before turning his head slightly back to his brother, “Oh— and just so y'know: we’re watching Toy Story 3 in the living room in a couple of minutes.”

Donatello let out an amused huff, “…Ihis this your way of rushing me?” 

“Mmmmm…kinda.” The red banded turtle hummed, shrugging slightly.

“Ihi’ll be as fast ahas I cahan, Raphie…” The taller turtle giggled as he watched his immediate older brother waltz out of the room, “Oh! And don’t start the movie without us!” He yelled from Med-Bay, closing the main doors as he turned all of his attention to his eldest brother…

…Oh. boy…

“Hey, big guy...” The scientist started off softly, slowly going over to his big brother with his signature med-kit. 

The blue banded turtle looked up almost immediately at the sudden voice speaking to him, being forced out of whatever void he was staring into. 

“Hey, Dee…” The elder smiled…although the smile looked more like a forced one…

…Donnie didn’t comment on it. 

“Hey, man…” The younger greeted again, slightly cringing at the sound of his own awkwardness, “How’re you holding up?” 

The smaller turtle blinked at the question, “I’m not…holding anything...” 

Donatello snickered softly at the answer (a typical Leo answer), resting his med-kit on the table as he got out some bandaids and other supplies, “I mean, like…how are you doing? Are you doing alright?” 

The blue banded teen shrugged, “I could…be better. But I’m with you guys, so…I can’t complain…that much anyway…” He finished bluntly.

“Amen to that.” The taller turtle hummed before turning back to his brother, “But before I start…is there anywhere that’s, like, really hurting that you want me to take a look at first? And most importantly: are you okay with me touching you right now or do you want to do the physical stuff later?” He asked as he grabbed his med-kit and a couple other unused washrags. 

“Just my arms hurt, I guess. But it’s just from cuts…nothing major I don’t think.” Leonardo muttered, “And I’m okay with being touched right now…th-thanks for asking.” 

Donatello chuckled softly, “Gotta make sure my big bro’s a-okay.” He grinned, giving the other a thumbs up and getting a disinfectant wipe as he cleaned the cuts on Leo’s arms. 

Heavy silence weighed down the two, almost like a huge weighted blanket.

Accept this silence was not comforting in the slightest…

….It was loud…if that made sense. 

“Soooo…” The taller turtle started, “The Foot took us by complete surprise, huh?” The young scientist exclaimed to try and start a subtle conversation, “You would think that after we beat them every. single. time…they would learn to back the fuck up…”

“Ow.” Leo muttered subtly as the russet eyed mutant cleaned a wound on his shoulder.

The younger grimaced, “Sorry…I’m being as gentle as I can.”

“Well, please be more gentle?” The other winced. 

“Suck it up but also that’s what she said.” Donnie remarked sarcastically, getting more rubbing alcohol and putting it on the other’s shoulder before putting a bandaid on it.

The blue eyed mutant winced at the contact, glaring at the ground as scene’s from just an hour ago unfolded in his mind…

…Jesus fucking Christ…

…How could he have been so. damn. stupid…?

He was supposed to lead his brother’s to victory…not lead them to a legit ambush and straight up failure!!!

What would have Splinter said?

…What…could he have said?

They all could have died because of Leo’s own foolishness…

He had one job.

One fucking job: make sure his brother’s get out of every mission safe and unharmed…

But he couldn’t even protect himself when it came to it…

So what kind of delusions was he feeding himself to make himself even remotely think he could protect his family?

“Woah! Woah woah woah! Hey! Hey…” Donnie’s eyes widened in panic as his older brother slowly started to crumble to tears, although, the younger teen could tell that the eldest was desperatelytrying to hold them back despite his efforts.

“Leo, I-I was just joking about the whole 'suck it up' thing. Y-You know that…right? I was trying to be funny, which…o-obviously backfired.” The second youngest mumbled guiltily, holding Leonardo’s hands in his as he rubbed the top of his knuckles gently. 

“I-It’s n-not that…” The shorter teenager mumbled back pathetically. 

“So…what is it then…?” Donnie quietly asked, his grip on his brother’s hands tightening just a bit as the other refused to answer. 

And almost like an everlasting reminder, the heavy silence weighed down on the two mutants once more.

“Leo…” The purple banded teen urged lightly as the eldest wiped his eyes with his free hand, sniffling as he looked at the ground, “I-It’s nothing…forget i-it.” 

“Lee…” The taller turtle urged on. 

“F-Forget it…please...” The eldest silently begged, wincing at how fragile and weak his voice sounded, “J-Just forget it.” 

“I can’t 'forget' about something when it’s obviously bothering you…” Donatello smiled gently as he sat next to his brother on the bed, wrapping him in a loose side hug that left the smaller turtle to accept or deny…

…Which he very much accepted.

Leonardo rested his head on the other’s shoulder, squeezing his little brother closer to him like a lifeline.

“I just…” The sapphire eyed teenager sucked in a breath, blinking back tears as he buried his face into Donnie’s shoulder, “…I-I just worry so…much about you and Raph’s and Mikey’s and April’s and Casey’s safety and I…I just can’t!”He exclaimed, overall sadness and shame overcoming and overwhelming him immensely. 

“Why…W-Why do I keep worrying about things that can’t be changed no matter what I do?!” The older mumbled, finding it quite humiliating how…brittle his voice was now.

But let’s be honest…it always did sound like that. 

He was supposed to be calm. 

He was supposed to be collected.

He was supposed to be calm and collected. 

…Not…whatever this was.

“I was worried about going out on today’s mission and look what f-fuhucking happened!!!” The sapphire eyed teen laughed bitterly, hugging himself as if his own comfort was the only comfort he felt like he deserved at the moment, “We got ambushed by The fucking Foot…” He grumbled, glaring hatefully at the floor.

“I-I just want you all to be o-okay.” The leader in blue choked out, “I hate seeing you all hurt and only being able to do something about it after the event that caused said hurt has passed…”

The smaller mutant sniffled, wiping his face with his palm, “…Eheven then I can’t do much.”

“I-I j-just…” Leonardo stuttered, “I-I just w-want you all to be o-okay…” 

And just like that…the berating silence visited once again, making Donnie stiffen almost like a stone hard wall as he looked at the other turtle’s completely downtrodden expression. 

The taller teen reached to gently hold the other’s hand, and his eyes only softened more when his elder brother moved his hand out of his reach quickly and quietly. 

The russet eyed mutant fidgeted with his fingers anxiously, “Leo…listen to me, please—”

“No…N-No, stop.” The sapphire eyed mutant said almost immediately, desperately trying to build back up the wall he built between him and his brother…

…Except this time instead of building this wall with cement…he built it without anything to support the bricks at all. 

“It…I-It doesn’t matter, okay?” Leonardo sniffled, wiping his eyes desperately with one hand and digging his hand into his thigh. The taller teenager sighed sadly, scooting closer to his brother and holding his hand, squeezing it gently and reassuringly, “Yes…it does.” The younger said with a stern tone; not an angry one…just stern. 

“I don’t want you to disregard your feelings, okay? This matters. Your feelings matter, Lee…” The taller said as he just now realized he still had the gloves he put on earlier on.

The second youngest of the mutant family quickly went to take off the disposable gloves and put them into the trash, going back to the bed and sitting next to Leonardo, interlocking his fingers with his.

And, man…

Leo’s hands were really ashy. Like…chalk ashy. 

…Eugh. 

Maaaaybe having those gloves on wasn’t such a bad idea…

The russet eyed mutant locked eyes with the smaller, making sure the other knew he meant every word he was saying, “This is about you right now, okay…?” 

The blue banded teen stiffened slightly at the other’s sudden firm voice, looking down at his own knees as he rubbed his thigh with his free hand anxiously. 

Donnie’s eyes softened once more for, like, the fourth time this hour at the eldest’s anxious demeanor, going into his pouch and giving his brother a stress ball, which the blue banded turtle gladly took. 

The second youngest sighed, “I-I’m not angry at you, okay?”

The other looked at the taller doubtfully.

“Don’t look at me like that!!!” The russet eyed teenager huffed, “I might be frustrated that you’re pushing down your feelings in order to 'protect mine'…but I would never be mad at you.” He emphasized, “Never.” 

But then, the purple banded teen then jokingly hummed in thought, lightly rubbing his brother’s knuckles with his fingers, “Well…there was that one time you swapped the house sprinkles and replaced them with salt for my ice cream…I was mad at you for that.” 

And thank God Leo cracked a small smile; rolling his eyes and giggling slightly at the random comment, “Okahay thahat was an accident…” 

“You put food coloring on the salt! 'Accident' my ass.” 

The eldest just laughed harder at the memory, “Yohour fahahault fohor falling fohor ihit…” 

The second youngest sighed dramatically, “Gaslighting the victim at its finest, I see.” 

The purple banded turtle then lightly bumped his brother’s shoulder, squeezing his hand one last time, “I do need you to know, though…it gets better, Leo…okay?” Donnie said with..so much love and compassion and just utmost respect for his older brother.

“…Does it…?” The sapphire eyed teen murmured.

“It does.” The other assured, “I-I know it doesn’t feel like it right now…but it does.” He said, examining his brother’s readable but yet unreadable expression, “…You don’t believe me…”

“And why should I?” The other quietly and carefully asked. 

“…Would I ever lie to you?”

“…No.” Leo concluded as he sniffled, resting his head on his brother’s shoulder as the taller mutant chuckled, “And I’m just gonna be blunt here…you’re a worrywart.” Donnie snickered. 

“Hey!!” The young leader huffed. 

“And you worry and stress about a lot of things.” The young genius exclaimed, “And that’s okay. But what’s not okay is you disregarding those feelings.”

“You’re our big brother for Christ sake! I would lowkey be kinda worried if you didn’t worry about us.” Donatello laughed, “But you have to trust that we’ll be okay in the end. We have each other…and personally? That’s all I really need…” 

Leonardo’s eyes shined slightly, burying his face in his brother’s upper plastron, “L-Love you…” 

“I love you too, shortie.” Donnie smiled softly as he gently squeezed the other against him before letting go and getting up to put the rest of the medical kit things away. 

“So…how do I look Doc McStuffins?” The leader in blue grinned cheekily as he wiped away his excess tears. 

The younger rolled his eyes fondly, “Okay, well first of all: fuck you. And second, your okay. Just a couple scratches…nothing major.” Donnie said as he disposed the rest of the dirty cloths and disinfectant wipes in the trash.

“But if I see you training at all for the next two weeks I will personally burn your entire Space Heroes action figure collection.” Donatello huffed. 

Leonardo’s eyes widened, “…You wouldn’t.” 

Donatello raised a brow, smirking, “Wanna bet?” 

The eldest sighed in defeat, looking down at the ground and pouting slightly, “No…” 

Donatello chuckled at the other’s demeanor, going in front of him and holding his hands gently, “But you have to promise me something.” 

“Hm?”

“Talk to someone if you feel shitty about yourself or something!” The purple banded turtle huffed, flicking his brother’s forehead, “You know better than anyone else here that bottling up feelings just ends up badly.” 

“And put some damn lotion on. Your hands are ashy as hell.” The russet eyed teenager said, holding back a snort as his older brother stammered over his words at the random order. 

“Wohoah wooooah, pause pause pause!” The blue banded turtle giggled, waving his hands, “I thought we were having a moment!” 

“We were!” The russet eyed mutant laughed, “I just need you to put some cream on. It’s bothering me!” 

“Everything bothers you…” The leader in blue grumbled under his breath, getting up from the bed and getting lotion which was on one of the desk tables. “Better?” The older said sassily as he put the cream on, raising an eye ridge to the taller teenager who just snickered in amusement by his sassiness. 

“Much better, ash baby.” The taller chuckled, sitting down on the bed as the smaller followed. 

“So…what now?” The sapphire eyed teen hummed. 

“Well, I dunno if you heard but Raph and Mikey wanted to watch Toy Story 3…” Donnie said. 

“Of course they did…” Leo laughed fondly, “And here I thought I cried enough today…”

“…You sure you’re okay, though…?” The other asked. 

“I mean, yeah…” The sapphire eyed mutant shrugged, “I just wish I knew what to do when stuff like this happens…”

“…Like Dad did?” Donnie mumbled. 

“Like Dad did.” Leo nodded, sharing a small smile of remembrance with the younger. 

Donatello nodded, getting up for a quick second as he took off his mask and washed his hands in the Med-bay sink. The eldest quickly and quietly followed, washing his hands as well before drying them.

And…remember the silence?

The shell crushing berating silence that he couldn’t stand for more than 0.1 seconds…?

…Well, it was gone now…

But it was replaced with comfort. And quite personally that was way better than just straight up awkwardness… 

Leonardo put on a comfy hoodie as his sibling did the same, the both of them ready for the movie night about to unfold but…not quite ready.

If that made sense. 

“Awkward sibling hug?” The russet eyed teen said as he stretched his arms out, causing his sibling to chuckle, rolling his eyes.

“It’s only awkward if you make it awkward.” The sapphire eyed mutant laughed fondly. “I was making a reference!” Donatello exclaimed as he pouted slightly. “Just come here!” 

The shorter turtle just fondly rolled his eyes once more, embracing his younger brother. Donatello gave the other a comforting kiss on the cheek, causing the blue cladded teenager to stifle a small giggle. 

“JESUS! Dohon!” The older one shouted, hiding his face in his brother’s shoulder before letting out a small snort, “Noho Dohon whyhy…?” 

“Because I love you? Duh.” The other laughed, holding his sibling against his plastron tighter as his free hand danced around the leader’s sides. 

“Ihi knohow thahat!” Leo squealed, “Yohou don’t need to fuhucking kihihiss me to show IHIHAT! SNRT NONOHOH WAHAIT!!” He cried as his brother pinched up and down his ribs like a harp. “IHI CAHAN’T!!”

“IIIiIIiI cAaAaaan’t..” The young genius teased. 

The leader’s face turned the lightest of pink, shaking his head back and forth as he squirmed, “DOHON’T MIHIHIMICK SNRT MEEHEE!” He demanded. 

“Been there, done that.” The other shrugged casually, giving small kisses in the crook of the smaller’s neck, causing the smaller in question giggle’s to raise a million octaves. 

“EHEHEHEW!!!” Leonardo complained through cackles, “SCREHEHEW AHAFF!!”

“Notice how you’re still in the hug though.” Donnie commented, stopping and giving the other a quick squeeze before letting him go.

“Shuhut snrt up…” The sapphire eyed mutant huffed, almost jumping out of his shell as the second youngest poked him one more time before opening his phone notifications. 

Text from 'RAPH-A-HELL', 2 minutes ago:

'WHAT IS TAKING YOU GUYS SO DAMN SO LONG DID LEO LOSE A LIMB OR SOME SHIT???!!??}{{>'

Donnie sighed as he texted his older brother back, sighing louder as his other older brother peered over his shoulder to see who he was texting. 

Nosy ass…

'We’ll be right there, Raphie 😗'

'YOU SAID THAT AN HUPOUR AD FITENN MINUTES AGO 😡😡😡😡😡🥺'

'*😡!!!!'

Leo quickly snatched the phone from Donnie’s grip, quickly typing something before handing it back. 

'Yeah yeah Mr. Cranky we’re coming 🤡🤡🤡🤡👺👺👺🤑🤑🤠👹👿😈👾💩👻'

Donnie held back a snicker as he looked at the text, putting his phone in his pocket as Leo grinned in satisfaction. “Lemme guess…” Leonardo hummed, “He left us on read.”

“Can you blame him? Those emojis you put looks like they came straight from hell…” The taller remarked as they walked out of the Med-bay, heading to the living room.

[clowningaroundmars]

morales twins hcs

i'm absolutely in love with the idea of miles42 and miles1610 being twins, i'm so glad most of the fandom has basically adopted 42 lmao

some of my own twins headcanons, just random stuff to add onto other ppls hcs ive seen:

☆ 42 loves his mamí absolutely but def acts the most like his dad, and haaaates when anyone points it out. it's the most obvious when 42 gets mad, he sounds EXACTLY like his father then lol

☆ in fact, the twins polar opposite personalities is probs bc 1610 takes after his mom's temperament more, while 42 is as stoic, stubborn and slightly dorky as his dad is

☆ whenever the boys made each other cry (by accident or otherwise) they did the typical little kid thing and tried immediately comforting the other. now that they're older 1610 handles his emotions better and is mature when talking about them, but 42 is the one who comforts 1610 more often

more below ↓

☆ as well as staying on top of his academics, 42 also plays basketball and trains in a couple martial arts studios after school. 1610 is taller than 42 bc of the spider bite but 42 has always been slightly bigger and more muscular than 1610 since he's the athlete. whenever the family attends 42's boxing matches, jeff gets an overwhelming sense of deja vu from back when he attended his own brother's matches before

☆ they both got thru school p okay, not many incidents of bullying mostly bc if anyone did try, 42 would put a stop to that nonsense immediately. 42 loves his bro with his whole heart and was glad to pick a fight with anyone who gave him any trouble at all. the whole neighborhood knew it too bc the only person allowed to bully 1610 is 42 himself!

☆ in fact, 42 doesn't win the lottery to enter visions in the first place, which saddened both brothers when they found out. so because they're at separate schools now, 42 makes sure his twin knows that if any fuckery is afoot at visions that he'd be more than happy to roll up and dogwalk any fool who tries it. 1610 laughs him off but knows his bro has got his back for sure

☆ 42 likes to pretend 1610 is the nerdy one, but they are both very big anime and manga nerds. every time they hit up any bookstore, they both make a beeline for the manga section and argue over who's gonna read the newest one first (they have to share cuz those books cost some moneeyyyy, man)

☆ 1610 and 42 love their uncle to pieces, OFC. they both pick up separate traits from him, even. 42 was inspired to start martial arts and boxing from watching videos on old digital cameras that aaron hung onto thru the years. they were of a much younger aaron back in his boxing days, when his family went to his matches and recorded them from the seats. 1610 was inspired to pick up graffiti and then even started doodling in notebooks bc of aaron

☆ 1610 is def the social butterfly and easily the most popular kid on the block by virtue of how friendly and outgoing he is. 42 is more introverted and keeps a small circle of friends, but everyone is cool with him nonetheless since they fuck with his twin bro

☆ since 42 stays at home the most (lol he a homebody) he picks up cooking much better than 1610 thanks to him staying in the kitchen to help his mom make dinner while they watch telenovelas together. 42 also knows how to dance bachata and salsa much better than 1610 too

☆ both twins love physics and math but 42 is more hardware-inclined. 1610 is about software, data, and formulas. 42 is good at taking things apart, putting things together, building and engineering. he kinda takes after his uncle aaron that way, and drove his parents nuts as a lil kid when he got his hands on radios, computers, clocks, etc

☆ 1610 loves softer brighter music like JID, steve lacy, smino, frank ocean, kid cudi, post malone, and nujabes. 42 is always bumping harder shit like pop smoke, waka flocka, zillakami, three 6 mafia, benny the butcher and some oldies like paul wall, wu tang clan, biggie smalls, MF DOOM and big KRIT. they tease each other's music tastes a lot since they're polar opposites in almost every way

☆ they actually have a shared playlist where they add new music they like (probs on some e-1610 spotify or soundcloud equivalent since everything is slightly skewed on e-1610 tbh). both of them check it periodically, and 42 is the more frequent contributor

☆ they both make art but 1610 is the artsier kid for sure. 42 doodles occasionally but he's not as enthusiastic about it as his twin is. they both go around the city tagging walls whenever they have any free time, though. 1610 loves colors, expressive styles and is good at coming up with cool ways to draw text. 42's lines, accuracy and technical skill can never be beat

☆ 1610 has superpowers, sure, but his fighting skills are trash! 42 was always the scrappy one, not 1610, so he shows his twin how to properly throw punches and other useful fighting knowledge. it def comes in handy in the future

☆ jeff loves his sons to death but he often finds himself butting heads the most with 42 since they're so similar, it kinda drives them both nuts. it def gets worse once aaron starts gossiping abt what jeff used to be like when they were kids, giving 42 plenty of ammo. they love each other but their relationship is just as complicated as it is between jeff and 1610, and 42 would be lying if he said he wasn't affected by the rift between his dad and uncle himself

☆ the minute the twins turn 16, 42 goes out and gets his drivers license on the first try (computer quiz AND road test aced) and rubs it in 1610's face almost constantly. 1610 likes to throw back that there's no parking space for another car on their block, so he can't even get his own car even if he wanted to anyways

☆ whenever the boys really fight, the whole city seems to know. they squabble a lot obvi, they're brothers. but the very few times they've given each other the silent treatment like for real, everyone in the family tries to get them to make up since it's unsettling to see two peas in a pod be so hostile with each other

☆ and since they've always been attached at the hip, 1610 being enrolled into visions felt. weird. everyone thought 1610 was gonna take it the hardest but surprisingly 42 had a harder time adjusting since he always saw his bro in the hallways at school, and was so used to him knowing the latest gossip of anybody in their grade. without 1610 around as often, 42 becomes even more withdrawn than usual

rio looks up from the pot suddenly, glancing at the time. dinner was almost ready and she… hadn't seen not hide nor tail of her son this evening. he returned home from school a couple hours earlier, choosing to skip going to his boxing class to shut himself in his room.

fine. teenagers can be moody sometimes and rio would rather keep her moody son at home where she can keep an eye on him, rather than worry about what he's getting up to on the streets.

strange thing is, though... rio hadn't heard a single noise come out of that room all night. 42 usually liked to have at least some music playing, maybe video game noises out of his nintendo... oh, what was it called again? whatever, that nintendo thing he played on sometimes.

rio placed the lid on the pot and lowered the flame a bit before making her way over to her twin sons' bedroom door, hesitating a bit when she noticed no light was filtering out from the bottom either. okay... that was weird, too. neither of her sons ever went to bed before dinner. ever.

the one time rio dared to try and send her sons to bed without dinner years ago-- as punishment for fighting right there in the kitchen that time-- both twins hollered so loud they got concerned knocks on their front door from various different neighbors. never again, rio remembered thinking that time.

now, the bedroom door stands oddly quiet and completely hollow without any signs of life behind it. rio knocked anyways, hoping against hope itself that 42 didn't go ahead and sneak out of the house without her knowledge. if he did sneak out, he's grounded for 3 months, rio thinks to herself mostly as reassurance. she nervously picks at a nail and strains to hear anything behind the wood.

she thinks she hears a groan and decides to try her luck by slowly opening the door. hopefully he's not in there... y'know, doing teenage boy things, either. dios mío.

rio swings the door open to...

...a completely pitch-black room, save for the sliver of streetlight filtering in past a crack in the window curtains and casting an eerie yellow glow on anything it could touch. it is cold, and also deathly quiet.

rio is shocked.

she walks over to the right side of the room where 42's bed is pushed up against the corner, next to the windows. on that bed lies a big lump, buried under several layers of blankets. the lump stirs.

rio crosses her arms. "mijo, mi amor. are you sleeping? …pero qué te pasa, papí?"¹

42 rolls onto his back and glares sleepily at his concerned mother standing at his bedside. it's dark in the room, but rio's face is illuminated by the living room lights pouring in from the open door. she's wearing a tilted smile, but coupled with the worry lines on her forehead, it isn't fooling anyone.

42 slowly closes his eyes, chin still under the covers, and lets out the most world-weary sigh rio has ever heard coming out of someone as young as him. if it weren't coming from her own son, she might have even laughed.

she immediately sits down, lifting the cover off of 42's chin to check his temperature all over his face. he tries to wriggle away.

"maaaaaa, stop..." he grumbles, trying to pull the covers up higher over his head. "'m not sick, mamí, forreal… chill."

rio leans on a hand. "¿si no 'ta enfermó pues qué es?² what's wrong?"

42 doesn't answer for a bit and rio exhales through her nose. " 'moré, what are you doing in this pitch-black room all by yourself? no light, no music, no nothing. what's wrong? you look like you're on a death bed!"

42 finally opens his eyes again, and blinks a few times as he says, "nothing, ma. seriously, i'm just... tired. that's all. i'm fine."

"you don't look 'fine' 42, you look like 2 seconds away from flatlining."

another sigh from the boy. rio rolls her eyes and places her hand on his forehead again, then strokes his cheek.

"is it 1610? hmm?" rio asks 42. she asks so unbelievably gently, as if by only mentioning his brother's name she would shatter something in the room. a mirror or something.

42's heart clenches at the love and care his mother is showing around this particular topic. it was true, and he couldn't even deny it. having 1610 in the house less and less every week, not seeing him in the hallways at their local high school, receiving sparser and shorter replies to his texts... it was all building up in his chest and the dam was pretty close to bursting. especially now as his mom was lovingly stroking his cheek as she checked in with him. how embarassing. rio wouldn't see him cry, not right now. he closed his eyes and willed the tears away, for her sake.

miraculously, 42's voice didn't crack or waver when he said, "yeah. yeah, i miss 'im."

rio crooned something saccharine in spanish and placed a kiss on her son's forehead. she saw right through his cold tough guy act, as expected. with how much of a mama's boy 42 was, it would've been impossible not to. they spent way too much time together for her to miss how he dragged his feet getting ready for school in the mornings, how he's been skipping martial arts and basketball practice more often lately, and how unenthusiastic he's been in general.

rio chuckles as she lays her cheek on 42's forehead for a second before sitting back up. "ay, bendito. 42, you know your brother is just down a few blocks from here. why don't you go visit him soon?"

42 shuffles under the covers. he's unsure if he should even admit this, but he proceeds anyways. "uhm. he's not answering my texts lately, so." he feels strangely guilty about this, like he just snitched on his twin somehow even though he has no reason to suspect that at all.

rio sighs and looks off into the distance, bracing herself for what she's about to say. she looks back down. "yeah. i know. he doesn't answer mine, either. i was hoping he was talking to you, but... well. "

something in 42 stirs a bit. "i bet he thinks he's in some fancy private school, around rich kids, now he's too good for us," it's a weak attempt at a joke, but rio smiles down at him anyways.

"don't worry. the second he gets home this weekend, he's on house arrest. okay? he's gonna be chained to you the whoooole time. and i'm keepin' watch."

it's not much, but 42 still takes that little bit of hope and holds it gently in his mind.

"the second he walks through that door, i'm tackling him. i don't care." 42 smiles at the thought.

rio laughs, kisses his forehead again and stands up. "dinner is almost ready, by the way." she gives him a look. "you better eat with me tonight, because your brother is at school and your dad is doing overtime tonight. okay? okay."

42 sighs deeply to wake himself up a bit more as he sits up and scratches at his durag. "yeah, yeah. 'm comin', ma!"

¹ "but what is going on with you, papí?" (papí being a common term of affection for a boy in spanish, it doesn't always mean "dad" lol)

² "if you're not sick, then what is it?"

☆ until they get "too old" for halloween, the morales twins ALWAYS wear matching costumes. every year. every single year, no matter what. what they usually end up wearing changes every year and they aaaaaalways argue over it, of course. notable costumes so far: batman and superman (age 13), two ninja turtles (age 9) (im thinking mikey and donatello bc of personality but lbr rio most likely forbade either of them to be leonardo bc the twins would deadass get into a fist fight over it), tom and jerry (age 2), mario and luigi (age 7), woody and buzz (age 5), peter pan and captain hook (age 10), and-- rio's favorite-- thing 1 and thing 2 (age 4)

☆ 42 was surprisingly always very popular with the girls at school. in middle school, 1610 was the geeky one with braces and acne. 42 got off relatively easy in that regard and as a result was labeled "a heartbreaker" from the jump, which annoyed him. he has no interest in dating whatsoever and swore to never get into a relationship before graduating high school. he's got his mom and brother to take care of and he's going places after high school, damnit! 1610 on the other hand is a huge romantic and has a crush on a new person almost every year of school, easily

☆ the literal second 1610 set foot in the house after his spider bite, 42 was all over him asking a million questions since they both have that supernatural twintuition, and 42 sussed him out immediately. 1610 obviously had to come clean and tell his brother he was spiderman just like he told ganke, otherwise he was never gonna be able to change into his spider suit at home (plus they share a room, so. there's that)

1610 didn't even get to close their bedroom door all the way before his twin leaped up from his own bed and stalked over.

"óye, bro. what's up? what happened at visions?" 42 circled his brother, squinty-eyed in the exact same way their mom is when she's suspicious. 1610 dropped his bag next to his bed and plopped down on his sheets, trying to put some distance between them.

"uhhhh what're you talkin' about?" he tries casually, and immediately regrets it.

"uhhhhh what're you talkin' about?" 42 mocks. "don't play dumb with me. you KNOW what i'm talkin' about, stupid. first, you answer, like, none of my texts ever. then dad comes home sayin' you never let him talk face-to-face when he visited you a couple days ago. mamí has been texting and calling you nonstop, no answer either. you are a brand new person now, huh? qué te pasa, yo?"

1610 hunched his shoulders as he got up and slumped over to his desk. he was quietly weighing his options, nervously rearranging papers and sketches on the wooden table, wondering how he was going to break it to his brother that he was--

"lemme guess. you have superpowers now," 42 says easily. he crosses his arms triumphantly when big round amber eyes suddenly turn up to his face.

1610 searches his face for any hint of a joke. no... no way. did his brother just...?

"you're playin' with me. no way. how did you--?"

42's eyes widen. "wait, are you being deadass right now?" he threw his head back and crowed with laughter. "that was just a guess!"

1610 leaped forward and pushed his hand onto 42's mouth, shutting him up. "heeyyy hey hey hey hey shhhhh, man. damn, could you possibly be any louder? look," he took his twin by the shoulders and gave him a slight shake, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "mom and dad can never know anything about this. okay? anything. not a word, you understand?"

42 pushes his brother off. "ok-ay man, cool it. i promise. we can shake on it, even."

wordlessly, they did their super secret handshake they came up with and perfected in the 4th grade in lieu of hooking their pinkies together. it was the morales shake, a move that binds them to secrecy and keeping promises til death. this was serious business. 1610 relaxes a bit once they're done.

"... okay. and i mean it, pencil braids. if you even breathe a word about this, or even think about--!"

"if you don't just tell me already, goddamn."

with a meaningful look thrown at his brother's way, 1610 raises an arm silently. 42 looks back expectantly.

1610 shoots a web up. he jumps up, using the web as a bungee rope to help him flip and land feet-first onto the ceiling. once his sneakers touch their ceiling, he stands up... upside-down. he stares at his brother and his brother stares back, mouth agape.

"niiiiiiice," 42 leans back and grins up at his twin brother, spiderman.

☆ 1610 is glad he has someone besides ganke to talk to about spiderman stuff, though. his brother listens way more attentively than his roommate anyways, and even tries to help sometimes esp when 1610 needs a quick distraction so he can switch from spiderman back into his regular clothes before the parents notice

☆ 42 is surprisingly cool abt his twin bro being spiderman, actually. even when they're texting 42 is careful not to imply 1610 is spiderman, and often calls stuff in to the police station if 1610 webs anyone up and lets him know. he also gets very good at bandaging up wounds quickly

☆ 42 is a hardass on the outside and contains his emotions much better than his twin, but he's kinda different around his family, since he loves them a lot. he jokes around a lot with them, esp around 1610. they also love pranking their parents, and are p creative at coming up with ways to make everyone laugh

☆ i personally picture 42's personality being sort of like huey's from the boondocks, especially around other adults. he becomes withdrawn and speaks very clearly and directly, and is very shy around strangers. some ppl mistake that as him having an attitude problem but his friends and family know better. only difference between huey and 42 is that 42 isn't nearly as woke lmfao

☆ meanwhile, 1610 becomes a motormouth around strangers and is quick to hug and kiss random family members at family reunions. as a lil kid, he'd always be the one up at the counter ordering for the both of them and chatting with the cashiers, or bus drivers, or whoever. as he gets older and used to the spiderman thing, he chats and jokes with randoms a lil less. he has to save the good material for when the mask is on

☆ 42 is a better writer than he is an artist, actually. he has notebooks filled with poetry and lyrics he scribbles down on post-it notes just to stick them in there for safekeeping. he's also been working on a sci-fi story since he was in 6th grade in absolute secrecy; he doesn't want a single soul to see it. he'd be mortified if anyone saw the nerdy shit he comes up with

☆ even tho 1610 has never fought anyone or been scrappy with anyone else, he's very good at wrestling and dodging punches thanks to his brother.

☆ 42 is the more fashion-inclined twin, even tho they're both sneakerheads. 42 just pays more attention to accessories, the fit of his clothing, how to pair the right shoes with the right jacket. 1610 throws on anything comfortable and calls it a day, and it gets even worse after he becomes spiderman. 42 clowns his brother SO HARD after he finds him wearing yellow sweatpants with an oversized red adidas hoodie and a green puffer jacket once (it was when 1610 came home from fighting a shapeshifting lizard that tried to take over cypress hills. the sweatpants were on backwards)

☆ 1610's sense of humor is geeky and he always tries too hard with his quips and jokes. he usually gets "secondhand embarrassment" chuckles from ppl. 42's style of comedy is a mix of dry humor and unintentionally being funny. this dude will say something clever with the straightest face ever and have the ENTIRE room in stitches without even meaning to

☆ just to nail home how different they are, even tho they share a room, you can tell EXACTLY which half of their room begins and ends. 1610's half is cluttered, vibrant, covered in posters and action figures, collages and trinkets on every available surface. 42's is as clean as a hospital room, and he ALWAYS makes his bed every morning. 42 has a poster or 2 hung up but he's not much for decorating in general. he's more into alphabetizing his bookshelf and looking for more efficient storage to put under his bed

☆ when jeff looks at his sons, he sees aaron and himself and sometimes it scares him. when the boys were around 12 (the Evil Year) he made SURE to sign them up for camp trips that summer and keep them close together as much as possible. he hates to see his boys drift apart at all and is the 1st one to call it out if he sees it. he just doesn't want his boys to end up like he and his brother did…

☆ … and then other times? it genuinely makes him feel a combination of irritation and also fondness bc sometimes 1610 and 42 really really remind him of aaron and himself, esp when they were young. ESPECIALLY when they argue. in every playful slap on the shoulder, every arbitrary competition started out of nowhere, every sleepy brother slowly sliding onto the other's shoulder during nighttime car rides, he sees it. he sees them, and then he sees his past. and with every little difference between the boys slowly cracking open like a chasm with each passing day, sometimes he thinks he can even see his future.

☆ 42 is cool or whatever but i also hc he's kinda… weird sometimes. it gets worse when his twin bro goes off to visions, he keeps staring at walls while sitting in dark rooms and eating at weird hours of the day. rio caught him fast asleep practically hanging off the window sill one night, and another time jeff found him having an entire conversation with a brick wall once while on patrol. 42 refuses to answer any questions

☆ after 1610 gets into visions, becomes spiderman, tells his parents abt his plans to go to princeton, etc... 42 eventually starts feeling a type of way (a jealous way…) their parents also seem to pay attention to 1610 more whenever he's home just to add insult to injury. he knows he's not supposed to, but he often finds himself thinking about the prowler gloves and schematics aaron left behind. he managed to grab them and hide them in a gym bag one day while helping his parents clear out aaron's apartment. the tech currently lives under his bed…

[tunastime]

A Minute in the Morning

so I started playing pokemon legends arceus. crumples to the ground. (2762 words)

In a hazy, rusty morning light, Ingo wakes up.

It’s a slow start—like his office computer, taking a whole ten minutes to finish booting, enough to stir sugar into his morning coffee and dissect his breakfast sandwich into parts. It feels like it takes just about that much time for Ingo to become aware of where he���s lying, which is in bed. Which is not where he fell asleep to begin with, which means that someone lifted him to bed and tucked him in. Which was rather sweet. Because he’s burrowed into the covers like a happy drilbur, keeping the cold from his fingers and toes and nose. He finally blinks his eyes open, and it’s sunrise that fills his room. Not his room. Scratch that. Emmet’s room. No wonder the blankets are so much lighter than he remembers them being. Nevertheless. Happy drilbur. He weasels a little more into the pillow. From either side of him, something moves. It’s slight, if there, but as he cranes his neck, slow and careful, he can see a dark head of hair on one side, and silver-white on the other. 

Ingo’s heart swells a fraction too big and too warm for his chest as he sighs out.

Elesa and Emmet haven’t woken up yet, which is a plus. If he were to move too much and move them he might lose the warmth from either side. Elesa’s shoulder rests against the crest of his back, and Emmet’s holding onto his elbow with one hand. The grip is loose at best, but the warmth, both from shoulder to spine and hand to elbow, seeps through him.

It’s blurry. Just everything. It kind of mushes together in his brain, like jam. Or maybe jelly. It doesn’t really matter. If he thinks too hard, his stomach starts to twist in knots, and he’d rather not feel sick while he’s trying to enjoy his morning. He remembers falling asleep while the television played the night prior—nighttime skits and commercials he filtered out until Emmet’s shoulder became the comfiest thing. He supposes that sometime between that point, and the point which he’s just woken up, Elesa came in, and at some other point, he was carted off to bed. It’s nice, though. The blankets make just enough weight over him to soothe ache and anxiety, and it’s warm, and he’s mostly thinking about how nice a cup of coffee sounds right now. Maybe a latte. Something warm. He shuts his eyes again.

The light is surprisingly yellower when he wakes up again. There’s still a warm weight on both sides of him, but it feels different than before. It stretches over him, too, more than just the weighted blanket that’s been added on top of him. He peeks an eye open to find Eelektross slumped over him, his large head curled near Ingo’s shoulder and his similarly large eyes shut as he snores. Ingo snorts, trying to shift to his back with the weight over him, without waking Eelektross. He does after a moment, settling once again, only for Eelektross to huff and fix one, tired eye on his face. Ingo smiles, just a little.

Wriggling a hand free, he pats Eelektross’ forehead, a path well pet and well loved.

“Good morning, you gigantic eel.”

Eelektross trills, nuzzling into Ingo’s hand.

“Mm, yes,” Ingo says. “I’m sure that definitely did not alert Emmet that I am awake, meaning I can’t fake any more sleep. Thank you Eelektross.”

The eel gives a happy sniff.

Ingo snorts.

Typical.

The door cracks open a moment later, the wide eyes of his brother peeking through. He raises his eyebrows, looking over Ingo and Eelektross still in bed. It comes with a little head tilt, something Ingo knows is indicative of an Emmet with a question.

“Sleep well?” he asks. Ingo nods.

“I think so,” he says. “I didn’t realize I’d be carried to bed when I fell asleep.”

“Ah!” Emmet says, eyebrows raising. “I made sure you stayed asleep when we carried you in. You’re a very deep sleeper when you want to be.”

It’s getting better, the gaps in his memory. It’s not enough to trust himself to start his duties as a Subway Boss again, but it's enough to have a few doctor’s appointments and to speak with police and his boss and their coworkers. He’s remembered their pokemon, which is why Eelektross didn’t startle him. And he’s remembered enough for him to fall asleep on Emmet’s shoulder with no care in the world. Enough for life to begin to settle from the chaos. Today is Tuesday, which means Emmet has the day off, and Ingo can tell, even as he reaches to wipe sleep from his eyes, that Emmet is still in his pajamas. He opens the door a little wider, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Ah,” Ingo echoes. “Was it Elesa’s idea to sleep in your room rather than my own?”

“It was,” Emmet concedes, smiling. “But I am Emmet, and I make a very good pillow.”

“You are Emmet and you are a very clingy sleeper,” Ingo says, letting his eyes shut again. Emmet makes a startled noise.

“Go-Go, don’t fall asleep again,” he yaps. “Your breakfast will get cold.”

Slowly, Ingo opens one eye, looking at his brother in the doorway. Eelektross snuffs into his shoulder, wriggling off of him. He grunts as the eel’s weight shifts off, leaving him free, but cooler.

“What’s for breakfast?” he says, watching Eelektross wriggle off the bed and toward Emmet. Emmet opens the door a bit further, takes a step back, and hefts the eel into his arms, knees bending with the weight. Ingo watches Emmet giggle to himself, shifting Eelektross in his arms to better wrap around his neck and arms, weight heavy against him. Clearly.

“Pancakes,” Emmet huffs. He’s still smiling, something almost infectious.

“Alright,” Ingo sighs.

“I also cut some fruit.”

“I’m getting up,” Ingo grumbles, rolling onto his side before he peels himself up and into a sit.

“I think Elesa left her nice coffee creamer, also.”

“I’m already up, Em,” Ingo snorts, trying not to laugh. “You don’t have to convince me.”

Emmet laughs again.

“Just adding!” he says cheerily, wobbling off toward the living room. In the open doorway, Ingo can see the sprawl of their living room and kitchen, lit by yellow daylight. Ingo sighs, stretching his arms above his head, twisting around. When the room settles, he stands, and he realizes that the room is warm around him. Emmet must’ve turned the heat on, and it must actually be working. He hums as he combs his hair back, wandering into the bathroom to wash his face.

When he finally makes it to the kitchen table, Emmet is sitting at the table, scrolling on his x-transceiver. He’s changed into a cream-colored, high collared sweater, his hair held back with a small headband. Eelektross is lying across the couch, head resting on the arm. There’s a plate of pancakes sitting in front of Ingo’s seat at the table, and a half-eaten plate in front of Emmet. He looks up as Ingo sits, raising his eyebrows.

“Good morning,” Emmet says. He nudges a cup of coffee toward Ingo. It’s a light brown color—likely the way that Ingo likes it. It helps they like their plain coffee the same way. If it were any other type of coffee, Ingo’s certain there would be some big disagreement—type of milk and way of prep and iced versus hot. But Ingo takes a long sip of hot coffee and nearly sighs in relief. Whatever fancy creamer Elesa buys really does make a plain cup of coffee so much better. He sits, nudging Emmet with his foot under the table.

“What are you reading?” he asks, gesturing with his fork to Emmet’s phone. Emmet holds it up.

“Article on a new electric rail system in Galar.” 

Ingo tilts his head, nodding along.

“Interesting. Any good?”

“Very efficient,” Emmet says, nodding along. He eventually pulls back, setting his phone face down on the table and returning to his pancakes. He takes a large bite, and through it, says:

“Maybe Gear Station should get some upgrades.”

Ingo snorts.

“We’re already quite efficient,” he says. “Do you think our trains could be quicker? Easier to board?”

Emmet shrugs.

“Wishful thinking. They’re already automatically driven, so there isn’t much more, but maybe longer cars to hold more passengers. Our trains are quite small.”

“Sounds expensive,” Ingo says, drinking his coffee. He pulls apart his stack of pancakes, poking at them with his fork.

“Maybe they’ve already got an upgrade in the works,” Emmet says. “It’s been a while since we’ve had an all-staff meeting. Perhaps we should inform the director.”

“Especially since I’ve returned and have about three years to catch up on, mm?”

Emmet smiles. It’s a bit tight, though. Ingo glances away, biting into his tongue. Should’ve kept that thought to himself.

“Maybe you’re right,” he says. “Though I promise you that not much has changed in the last three years.”

Ingo hums. He believes it, that nothing much has shifted. It’s hard to say, obviously, considering he wasn’t there to see it for himself, but his brother was never the type to lie without a reason, and this certainly didn’t have a good one. He takes a large bite of pancake and finds them still warm. It’s a quiet breakfast, between pancakes and coffee and Galvantula sleeping underneath the table. Emmet eventually finishes his food, shoveling large bites of pancake into his mouth as quickly as he can. Ingo watches him swallow with surprising difficulty, reaching for his cup of coffee. It takes a moment for Ingo to stomach the rest of his pancakes. Having this much food is a luxury he had not often afforded a month prior. His stomach still wasn’t used to it.

“Where is Elesa?” Ingo asks after a beat. Emmet talks through a mouthful of pancake and strawberry and maple syrup. 

“Mm, she had four battle appointments today, but she’ll be back around. Probably before two.”

Emmet is the first to finish, setting all his dishes together as he stands. He moves around Ingo as Ingo finishes, collecting dishes and setting everything in the sink. As Ingo stands to pass him his plate, he asks:

“Did you have a plan today?

“Mm?” Emmet hums. “No, not particularly. Why? Is there something you wanted to do?”

Ingo frowns, face pulling.

“Well,” he starts. “I was thinking—”

“Ah,” Emmet interjects. “Your first mistake—”

“I was thinking,” Ingo continues, narrowing his eyes. “That it might be a good idea for us to visit Elesa. I need to ask her for a new coat.”

“Mm!” Emmet startles, turning toward him. His face brightens. “That’s right! You do need a new coat. Good thing she’ll be over later, mm?”

Ingo nods. He fetches his coffee mug, pouring another cup of black coffee to balance the sweetened dregs. He leans back against the counter right as Emmet goes to hand him a dish to put away. They work in tandem for a moment, pausing as Ingo works to finish his coffee.

It’s a slow morning, 8:45am, and Ingo gazes back at his bed with longing.

It’s just. When’s the last time he had such a good sleep, right? On a bed that soft? He’d gotten so used to tatami mats and the grass and canvas laid out on the ground and here was a bed, with thick fluffy blankets and several large pillows and another person taking up space. It was very—stop it, Ingo—it’s comfortable. He hands Emmet his coffee mug.

“Ingo,” Emmet says.

Ingo hums. His eyes have drifted to the couch. Maybe standing is a little hard today. He should sit, shouldn’t he?

“Is my brother still up there?” Emmet asks, tapping Ingo’s head. Ingo startles as he does, turning to him.

“I would hope so,” he says. “Otherwise I don’t know where I’d be.”

“Not here, obviously” Emmet says. He finishes rinsing Ingo’s mug, setting it top down on the drying mat. “Though I’m not entirely sure you’re all there right now, are you?”

“Trying,” Ingo hums. “Too much going on.”

Emmet hums, a bit of a laugh showing through.

“You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I won’t,” Ingo promises.

“I don’t believe you,” Emmet says, shutting off the sink. The clean dishes sit on the rack, dripping water. Emmet wipes his hands with a dish towel. “You know, you should be resting if your engine isn’t working at full capacity. Rest is very important”

“Can’t be a well oiled machine with nowhere to go,” Ingo says, folding his arms. “I don’t understand why I don’t have the energy to move anymore.”

“Does the why matter?” Emmet asks. He’s leaning against the counter now, a mirror to Ingo, like he often was to Emmet. It was a natural progression—one following after the other, a mirror, a shadow, a doppleganger.

“It matters a little,” Ingo shrugs. “It matters to me. It gives me a reason.”

“Your reason is that you’ve gone through a lot,” Emmet says, pushing away from the counter. He scoops up his x-transceiver from the table, moving around it and through the apartment as he talks. “Your reason is that your body is playing catch-up with the world around you.”

“Maybe,” Ingo huffs.

“I am Emmet,” says his brother. “I am tired. I don’t sleep well. Do you think it’s my fault that I’m tired and don’t sleep well?”

Ingo grits his teeth. He hates this part—ever since they were little, Emmet would flip this hypocritical card, showing Ingo exactly how stupid he was sounding. It was good, for the most part, because Emmet was right and next time Emmet did the same thing, Ingo could follow suit with that card. But it was so annoying watching it now, watching Emmet throw open the blinds and shimmy open the window for the fire escape. A tinged-cool spring breeze filters in through the open window, tossing the curtains aside. Emmet keeps moving as Ingo thinks, the gears in his head turning slowly, still dulled with sleep. 

“No,” Ingo says shortly, watching Emmet rearrange coasters on the coffee table, setting game controllers back into their docks. “I don’t think anything is your fault.”

“Well now you are just flattering me, Go-Go.”

“Don’t say that flattery never got anyone anywhere,” Ingo says, pointing at him, waving his finger. Emmet laughs.

“My point is,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “You’re allowed to rest. We can figure out the steps from there, right? Even if we’re sitting on the couch to do it.”

Ingo sighs, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Even if I fall asleep?”

Emmet nods, still smiling a little.

“I will wake you if you do.”

Ingo huffs out a laugh, feeling the edges of his mouth quirk up. As Emmet sits on the soft, corduroy couch, Ingo feels himself pulled forward, as if recalled, to sit beside him. He brings his knees up as he settles into his familiar spot between the back and arm of the couch. 

“Do you promise you’ll shake me awake?” Ingo says, leaning his head against the back of the couch. Emmet scrunches his nose.

“Yes,” he says, knocking his knuckles into Ingo’s knee. “I do. But I’m going to watch Alakazam! so you can think without my talking.”

Ingo nods. The television hums to life quietly in the background.

Emmet always watches Alakazam! at 9am. At least, when he can catch it. Ingo watches the last few minutes of the previous game show, something quiet and low despite the flash of colors and excited spread of energy. As the show starts, he watches Emmet’s face shift, that serious pull to his mouth and the furrow of his eyebrows that Ingo only sees when they’re battling. To see that spark again, not knowing how long it’s been gone, turns a question in Ingo’s mind.

“Emmet,” he says.

“Yes, I am Emmet,” Emmet says. “You are Ingo. What do you need?”

“I think I've got an idea of what I want to do today.”

Emmet turns his head a bit, looking at Ingo mostly out of the corner of his eye. His eyes flick back and forth between Ingo’s face and the television, waiting for his program to start.

“Mm?” Emmet asks. Ingo smiles a bit, a laugh stuck behind his teeth.

He sees the glint in Emmet’s eye before he even asks his question.

“What about a pokemon battle?”

[strkyoo]

plsss do a lynette x quiet fem readerrr im desperate no one does nmlnm

— cozy silence

PAIRING ; lynette x quiet!fem!reader

IN WHICH ; nothing else matters when you’re around lynette.

NOTE ; TRUE i never found any nmlnm/wlw lynette fanfics and IM SO DESPERATE ABOUT IT TOO but oh well. guess im here to be your savior /jk

// FLUFF — established relationship, lazy cuddles and kisses, yall literally do nothing and just snuggle with each other, no dialogues — wc ; 686

being a magician’s assistant to her brother is a tiring thing, at least for today. all lynette wants to do is go home and go into your warm arms.

lynette opened the door to her current residence with a huge sigh, an unpleasant aura surrounded her. today was indeed an exhausting day, just like what she thought, and she went home first before her brother.

she scanned the entire room, before spotting you laying on the comfortable couch, reading some sort of book while you gently sipped your tea… you looked so relaxed and content — in contrast to her current self.

with a weak smile, she approached you from behind, resting her chin on top of your head. you didn’t flinch in surprise, nor did you react. you simply mumbled a meek ‘hi’, closing your book as you shifted your gaze to her violet eyes.

she can only smile at your lazy mutters, climb up from behind the couch and set herself in your lap. ah, sometimes you forget she has feline blood and has many traits similar to that of a cat.

you chuckled as you wrap your arms around her back and her waist, bringing her closer to feel the warmth of your arms. you didn’t mind if she tossed the book you’re currently reading somewhere, all that matters to you is her being comfortable in your arms.

lynette didn’t say anything, she just buried her head in your chest, nuzzling on there contently. the only sound you can hear in this comfortable quiet room is the soft purr from lynette and the sound of your clothes rubbing against hers.

your free hand began to wander from her back to her head, your fingertips brushing against her slight messy hair. her ears twitched slightly when you began to pat her head, her tail wagging left and right slowly. she always enjoys your gentle touch—it never fails to calm her messy heart after a bad day.

these few minutes are filled with comfortable silence accompanied by your loving and affectionate gesture for lynette. of all things, this is what lynette really needs after a long day. to be in your arms, to cuddle you and kiss you, to spend her time with you.

you pressed a tender kiss right on the star-shaped mark on her left cheek once she got even more comfortable. she smiled, pressing a kiss on your collar bone in return. you could see a faint pink-ish color on the tip of her cheeks.

the two of you keep sharing lazy yet tender kisses to each other — from forehead, cheeks, jawline, neck, and even lips if you’re feeling brave enough.

the more lazy kisses you gave to lynette, the more sleepy she got. you tried to hold your giggle when you saw her sleeping state after you kissed her lips for the third time. lifting up her body as you tried to switch to a more comfortable lying position, you tried to not move too much and not make any noises in order to not wake her up suddenly.

after a few attempts, you can finally lay comfortably with your sleeping sweetheart on top of you. you can feel her tail wrapped around your waist to prevent her from falling off your body, while her arms wrapped around your neck and her head resting on your chest.

you tried to pick up your book but it was too far from the couch and lynette had her whole body pinned against yours, so you have nothing to do now. you could just watch her sleeping face for hours, or simply fall asleep with her… it’s up to you now.

likes, comments & reblogs are appreciated ! ♡

— © strkyoo.

[baronessblixen]

Fictober Day 25: A House Is Not A Home (And A Dinner Is Not A Date)

Prompt: "It consumes me"

For the anon who sent this: Can you write a fic where an IT billionaire falls in love with Scully and pursues her, while Mulder gets very jealous - oh, and they're already dating, but still in secret. Rating: T, wc: 1,713

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

Over the past few years, he’s learned many things in therapy. One thing is to be honest with his emotions and not bottle them up and send them out into the world as a joke.

Right now, it proves to be difficult. How is he supposed to stay serious and true to his emotions when this 30-something guy with the whitest teeth Mulder has ever seen, is hitting on Scully?

“This was one of my prototypes,” the young man explains. Mulder knows he has a name. It’s Chad or something similar. Mulder doubts that Chad-or-whatever has caught his name, seeing how he only has eyes for Scully.

“Staying in this house was an experience.” Mulder glances over at Scully. Why is she indulging Chad-or-whatever? She’s smiling at the younger man. Oh. Oh, no. This man-child could be their son. Well, not quiet. Almost.

He’s seen Scully flirt plenty of times over the last 25 years – sometimes successfully and sometimes less so. Hell, he’s helped her out once. Too bad that the guy turned out to be a vampire. A fact Scully does not like to be reminded of.

“I cannot tell you how sorry I am,” Chad-or-whatever explains. “Let me make it up to you. I have another unit. Bigger, better, brighter. It’s yours. Rent-free for the rest of the year, of course.”

“It’s fine, Mr.-”

“Chad. Please call me Chad.” His grin is so blinding that Mulder has to look away.

“It’s fine, Chad. I do have a place to stay.” He wants to shove it in Chad’s face that Scully is staying with him. In their house. They’re sharing a bed. Something this guy can only dream about. The way he’s looking at Scully, he’s doing exactly that right this second.

“Then you must let me take you to dinner,” Chad insists, taking Scully’s hands into his. Mulder searches Scully’s face for discomfort, but can’t find any. He’s expecting her to politely decline any moment now. He’s waiting, and waiting, and waiting. It takes her a good ten seconds to answer – one second longer and Mulder would have done it for her.

“I’d like that, Chad.”

“You won’t regret it,” the younger man says, and Mulder stares at him with narrow eyes. “I’ll text you later. I have your number.” How much can a grown man grin? Mulder balls his fists, knowing he can neither say nor do anything. It’s not his place.

“Looking forward to it,” Scully says much to Mulder’s horror and Chad winks at her before he jogs off.

“Looking forward to it?” Mulder repeats, leaning his face close to hers, wondering what he’s missed.

“He’s sweet.”

“Sweet.”

“Are you parroting everything I say now? Yes, he’s sweet. It’s just dinner, Mulder. He’s sorry my house burned down.”

“Um, no, Scully. It’s not just dinner. That guy was hitting on you.”

“I could be his mother, Mulder. He wasn’t hitting on me.” But he sees doubt creep into her expression. “Was he?” Mulder nods at her. They went through this last year with Tad. Except back then, she was aware of what Tad was doing. And back then, she hadn’t been entirely uninterested. She admitted as much to him one night, not too long ago.

It was right after her house blew up and she moved back into their home. She said that she couldn’t in all honesty start being with Mulder again if she wasn’t honest. So she confessed about Tad. Mulder, on the other hand, had nothing to confess. No other women whatsoever. He had tried to hit the apps once and given up. It was Scully or nothing for him.

“It’s just dinner,” she says, shaking her head. “Mulder, he’s rich. He made a fortune with these smart homes. He just wants to make sure I won’t badmouth them.”

“So you’re going on a date with him?”

“It’s dinner,” she reminds him.

“Dinner, date, whatever. You’re going.”

“Yes, I’m going. You're not jealous, are you?"

"Me?" he asks in mock surprise, pointing at his chest. "Why would I be jealous if it's just dinner?"

But of course, he's lying.

*

She can’t believe Mulder was right. She and Chad are at an upscale restaurant where a meal costs as much as her monthly rent. He picked her up in a limo and brought her roses. That should have been her first clue. Mulder had looked miserable standing on the porch, watching her leave. As though she wasn’t planning on returning. Now she understands why.

“Dana, I cannot hold it in any longer.” In the dim light, his teeth look comically white, and his eyes are like molten chocolate pools. There are no blemishes on his skin and it hits her how impossibly young he still is. She knows a little bit about him; most importantly, she knows that he’s rich. Really, really rich. A billionaire, if the magazine she read is to be believed. Judging by his clothes, and his attitude, she has no reason to doubt it.

“Hide what?” Her whisper is not deliberate. The restaurant is quiet; a perfect atmosphere for two young lovers making their first moves.

“My feelings for you,” Chad says, smiling. “My love for you. It consumes me.”

“Chad, you don’t even know me.”

“You’re mistaken, Dana. I do know you. The moment I met you, I knew.” His smile is disarming. He isn’t a Philip Padgett, or a Donny Pfaster. He’s just a young, lonely man who’s mistaking his feelings for something they aren’t.

“Chad-”

“You said you’re single.” A mishap of her own making. She and Mulder have been back together for all of three months and she isn’t ready to let anyone else know. She knows that Mulder would like to scream it from the rooftops. He’s been the perfect gentleman, keeping his distance – as much as he can – and pretending to only be her work partner. It has worked so well that she’s ended up on a date with a man almost half her age.

She still can’t believe Mulder was right.

“I’m not… exactly single. It’s just very new and we’re keeping a low profile.” She can see the disappointment on Chad’s face, making him look even younger—almost like a little boy. His hand slips from hers, and he starts fiddling with his napkin instead.

“I should have known,” he says. “A woman like you. It was too good to be true.”

“Chad, there’s someone out there for you.”

“I thought it was you.”

He stares down at his plate and out of the corner of her eye, Scully spots a waitress, watching them closely. The expression on the other woman’s face is oddly familiar to her. Longing. Scully isn’t the first woman Chad has brought here and obviously, none of them have worked out. Maybe, Scully thinks, observing the waitress, he’s looking in all the wrong places.

“Excuse me a moment,” she says to Chad and he nods, not looking up.

“The restroom is this way,” the young waitress informs her when Scully walks toward her.

“I know. That’s not – you probably saw all that, right?”

“I’m not supposed to see things here, Ma’am.”

“I see the way you look at him,” Scully says softly. “I once looked at a man the very same way and I will go home to him now. Why don’t you keep him company?”

“I’m not supposed to… I couldn’t…”

“Sometimes we can bend the rules,” Scully says to her and the younger woman gives her a shy smile. She nods and takes a deep breath before she walks over to the table. Scully watches for a moment and is convinced that she sees a spark in Chad’s eyes. Before the man can spot and miss her, she disappears.

*

Imagining Scully on a date with another man while they were broken up is one thing. Waiting for her to return from a date while they’re living in the same house is torture. It’s shortly before 9 p.m. when he hears the tell-tale sound of the key in the door. His heart is doing somersaults. Returning home early has to be a good sign, right?

“Hey you,” Scully says, throwing her purse into a corner before she plops down next to him on the couch. She smells like roses and vanilla. A primitive part of him is trying to detect a whiff of competition. There is none.

“Hey.” He gives himself 15 seconds. If she doesn’t start talking until then, he’ll ask.

“You’re not going to ask how it was?” She turns to him. She’s gone for minimal make-up today and he spots her freckles peeping through. That alone makes him smile.

“Didn’t want to pressure you. How was it?”

“You were right.”

“Oh, you know what gets me going, Scully. How was I right?”

“Chad. He was hitting on me. He was interested in more than just dinner.”

“And?” He trusts Scully implicitly. There’s no doubt in his mind that she loves him. She wouldn’t have come back if she didn’t. That doesn’t mean he trusts Chad.

“I told him that I’m not available.”

“So Chad’s the first to know about us? Did not see that coming.”

“He said he loves me,” Scully says, shaking her head in disbelief. “He’s only just met me.”

“Hmm, I get it,” Mulder says, nuzzling her neck. He’s not staking his territory, but maybe he is. Just a little bit. “I was infatuated with you right from the start.”

“You were not.”

“Oh, but I was.”

“That’s funny,” she says, kissing him. “Cause I had a crush on you, too.”

“What about now? Do you still have a crush?” Another kiss, this time longer and with more tongue.

“More than a crush,” she murmurs into his mouth, and together they make their way upstairs. In the morning, Mulder will admit that he was jealous. Just a little bit. And Scully will raise her eyebrow, but smile and remind him that he has nothing to worry about. Ever.

That’s confirmed when a month later they get an invitation to Chad’s wedding.

“That guy moves fast,” Mulder says. “I wonder who she is.”

“Oh, I know who she is,” Scully says, grinning triumphantly, recognizing the waitress she saw in the restaurant that night.

[kindlythevoid]

Y’all, y’all, I know this is (among many, many other things) the talk-about-your-fanfics site but I physically cannot talk about them without being prompted. However, because I am dying to talk about them, I have decided to do it in the format of an ask game.

What story (stories?) are you writing rn that you’ll most likely publish next? ∩(´∀`∩)

What story (stories?) are you writing rn that will most likely linger in your head for an undetermined period of time? (*´▽｀*)

What tropes do you like writing about the most? (´▽`ʃƪ)

Lore dump about the OCs (see tags for options)! (∩˃o˂∩)

One individual fun fact for each OC in the tags. ヽ(‘ ∇‘ )ノ

Longest fic you’ve written (published or not)? ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

Shortest fic you’ve written (published or not)? ‹•.•›

Fic that is near and dear to your heart? ♡

Top three fics you’ve written (in author’s opinion)? ♡♡♡

Story Moodboard of choice (either you or author picks the story; author makes). (◡‿◡✿)

OC Moodboard of choice (either you or author picks the OC; author makes). ❀☉‿☉❀

Write another line in your WIP (rude, productive, but okay). ◔̯◔

Drop a playlist for a story! ♪♡♪

Umm… yeah, so feel free to reblog to use the ask game yourself!! Fingers crossed all those nervous writers get to lore dump, yeah?

[the-way-astray]

Stria continued to walk down the street. She was trying to get back to her house. It was getting late in the day, and she wanted to be home before dark.

However, she wasn't paying attention as to where she was going. She only dazed out of lala land when she accid ran into somebody.

She was about to apologize, but the words died on her tongue when she saw who she ran into. He had tousled blonde hair and ice of almost ice.

Blush ran across her cheeks.

"Sorry," the guy whispered.

"Oh, no," she insisted. "I'm sorry. I wasn't looking."

She studied him further. He looked like he hadn't slept. He had his voice low when he spoke to her. Was everything alright?

She held out her hand. "I'm Stria," she introduced herself.

The boy returned the handshake. "Keefe." His voice was still soft.

After a moment of hesitation, she finally asked, "Is everything alright? You look worried about something."

Keefe shrugged. "Just... hectic right now. I'm having a hard time finding somewhere to stay."

"Oh."

What was she supposed to do? Leave him there.

"Follow me," she told him. "You can crash on my couch."

Part 2? 👀

this is so wattpad-onian. why.

"Stria continued to walk down the street. She was trying to get back to her house. It was getting late in the day, and she wanted to be home before dark."

clearly this is a snippet of a greater work, because i am "continu[ing]" to walk down the street. i'm intrigued. where am i walking from?

"However, she wasn't paying attention as to where she was going. She only dazed out of lala land when she accid ran into somebody."

okay this part is pretty accurate to me. i'm the sort of person to get stuck in my own head when i'm walking between familiar places. i think this is why people accuse me of having a thousand yard dead-looking stare.

"She was about to apologize, but the words died on her tongue when she saw who she ran into. He had tousled blonde hair and ice of almost ice."

not accurate to real life me! my apologies are instantaneous when i run into someone. like pressing a button (running into someone) that causes an immediate reaction (saying sorry). i also put my hand up like a stop sign in apology. also i'm horrible with not only eye contact, but also even looking at a person's top half in general. i'm a knee-starer. true story: i once worked with a woman almost everyday and six months in i couldn't tell you her hair or eye color. it's that bad. so it's very likely i wouldn't even notice how hot keefe is, unless he has some spectacularly good-looking knees. this is where the y/n-ness officially begins. also i'm not sophie who can tell us the fucking hex code of everyone's eyes. i would literally just notice his eyes were blue and that's it (if i looked into them, which i would not). also i don't really use the word "tousled". "messy" is more accurate.

"Blush ran across her cheeks."

i don't blush. okay, actually that's not true. i don't let my blush show up on my face (yay for brown skin!). and i'm very good at controlling my facial features to keep a blush from showing up that way, too. keefe would not be able to tell in this scenario if i was blushing. but i guess this gets a pass, since you didn't say he did.

"Sorry," the guy whispered. "Oh, no," she insisted. "I'm sorry. I wasn't looking."

i don't talk like this. i'm very awkward. it would be more like "sorry . . . i. i didn't. wasn't. run- uh, looking where i was . . . " *trails off out of embarrassment* this happens regardless of who i'm talking to, but mostly with authority figures and strangers. inaccurate once again! also i don't use "oh, no" like this.

"She studied him further. He looked like he hadn't slept. He had his voice low when he spoke to her. Was everything alright?"

i don't know how to identify whether someone has slept or not. i'm terrible at judging people based on appearances in general. and i wouldn't think it was weird that he had his voice low when he talked. i would just think he was awkward, like me. i tend to do that when i feel particularly awkward. and seeing as how i am a stranger to him, it makes sense.

"She held out her hand. "I'm Stria," she introduced herself. The boy returned the handshake. "Keefe." His voice was still soft."

i don't shake hands unless the other person initiates, nor do i offer my name to random strangers without being prompted. this entire interaction would be me running into him, apologizing, and being on my way, realistically speaking.

"After a moment of hesitation, she finally asked, "Is everything alright? You look worried about something." Keefe shrugged. "Just... hectic right now. I'm having a hard time finding somewhere to stay.""

if i had noticed that keefe looked out of the ordinary somehow, i would not make conversation about it. i would be trying to get out of this situation with a stranger as fast as possible. i'm terrible at asking people what they want/using pleasantries/going out of my way to make sure people are okay (trying to be better about it, but yeah). and if i did decide to make conversation about it, i would be so incredibly awkward with that sentence. it would be more like "hey are you like. uh. i mean. are you okay? you look kinda . . . like not weird. i mean. like. worried. you look worried- uh i mean . . . " *trails off as i realize i'm being nosy and also that i don't actually care about this total stranger's life* also why is keefe willing to tell a complete stranger that he's having a hard time finding a place to stay?

""Oh." What was she supposed to do? Leave him there. "Follow me," she told him. "You can crash on my couch.""

if keefe did tell me he's having a hard time finding a place to stay, i cannot even begin to describe the levels of awkward i would reach. personal details from strangers make me a unique sort of uncomfortable, because like, what are you even supposed to say? i would see him as like. subtly asking for a place to stay with me, or feel guilty that i have a place to stay and he doesn't, or think that he hates me because i'm in a better situation than him. and then that would affect the way i spoke to him for the rest of the conversation. and i would try to find a way to politely end this conversation as soon as possible and get away. the last thing i would do is offer my place to a complete and utter stranger. what if he kills me? you guys don't understand the amount of paranoid i am when it comes to stranger danger.

and the terrible grammar/puncuation/spelling/diction/word choice is topping this off for me. so, so wattpad. idk if it was intentional (i assume it was) but. it's so . . . y/n. it oozes bad fanfiction. i assume that was your goal. but also like. why. if you make a part two it might kill me. just so you know.

in conclusion: dni fanfic writers

[zukkaoru]

clumsy, not clever

Oda’s head thunks against the table, and he covers it with his arms. He lets out a truly pitiful groan. “You’re sick,” Ranpo deduces. The lights are all off, save for the TV and a nightlight in the hallway, so they didn’t get a very good look at him. But it’s the only logical conclusion to draw. There’s no other reason he would risk coming here.

while fukuzawa is out of town, ranpo finds themself harboring a sick assassin. the worst part, they think, is how desperately they want him to stay.

🍂 5.1k words || odaran 🍂 a birthday gift for ela @ryuvnosuke <3

[syrupsyche]

As newly-qualified solicitor Marius Pontmercy travels to Romania to help a Count with his purchase of a home, his fiancée Cosette Fauchelevent heads over to Cette with their friends to prepare for their wedding. However, when Marius’ host begins to reveal sinister secrets, the couple and their friends must work together to save themselves and avenge those they have lost. Or; A Dracula AU, where Marius is Jonathan Harker and Cosette is Mina Murray.

A gift fic (with some doodles!) for @feathraly ((I really hope this is the right tumblr account...)) for the Discorinthe discord anniversary exchange! Their lovely lovely prompt WRT Marisette being a gothic couple, Jehan giving a bit of gothic horror as a treat, and some supernatural crossovers naturally lent themselves to me writing a Dracula AU with Marisette of course being the quintessential gothic power couple: The Harkers!

I hope feathraly enjoyed this fic!! <3 and if anyone else likes vampires, angst, and the Power of Friendship, this fic will probably be up your alley too! But please mind the tags!

P.S. No prior knowledge of Dracula is needed to read this fic! But if you are already familiar with Dracula, there is a whole bunch of new content in there too 👀