#I wrote this instead of sleeping :) hi

[on-the-clear-blue]

The idea warms are hitting extremely hard today, so outside of my usual DPxDC I give you, Spider-Man in Gotham...Not MCU Peter edition!

Give me a Peter Parker that is 18 going on onto 19, he has been Spider-Man for like, 5 almost 6 years, getting his bite very early, and dealing with all the things that happen to him younger.

And give me a Year One Batman. Who is still trying to figure out what the hell he is doing, and toting along a 9 year old Robin

Peter, falling out of a portal, and doing his standard check of surroundings, spotting Batman staring at him in clunky armor and a brightly colored child: Waves slowly

Bruce, who heard some freaky shit was happening with a cult near by and went to investigate: blinking at the blue and red being that got summoned

Dickie, who is trying (and failing) to do the Bat glare: still waves back.

And like, just the idea of this 19 year old Spider-Man taking a much older vigilante under his wing, teaching him the ins and outs of it all.

Like..

Bruce, Storming through a bag guys base gets suddenly pulled back by a web to his cape.

Peter, giving him a "bitch you dumb" look under his mask: Traps! LOOK FOR TRAPS?? AND LOOK UP? PEOPLE HID THINGS UP?

Bonus, Spider-Man bending himself into a human pretzels and Dick "I have no bones" Grayson is gleefully testing to see if he could do it too.

Jump cut, years later, Peter beats emotional intelligence into Bruce with Dick.

All the Bat kids grow up with Uncle Peter, (either Peter can't get back or has been told specifically that he can't by a higher being or something) and like...

Peter is the only one that catches Tiny Tim following them during patrol, he shows him all the places to get the best angles, even poses a few times for him.

Either is there when Jason dies and saves him, or is there mourning with Bruce

(Gotham lives in fear of the memory, Batman at his most brutal and Black Suit Spider-Man)

Teaches Jason how to control his pit rage after he comes back, what is Spider-Man if not control?

Stephanie is his bestie in puns and white girl music tastes.

Tim finds a partner in constantly staying up far to late as well as someone who likes to invent,( because I hc that Peter has pretty much worked with every scientist in New York, cus like since this is a blend of canons, he has worked with the Lizard, Doc Oct, Reed Richards, the only one he said no to an internship was Stark)

Duke gets a meta mentor that can help him with his powers, Spidey has been on more than one team with someone that had some form of light powers.

Plus I think Spider-man is Gothams daytime hero before Signal joins him, they are the daytime duo

Cass is his favorite (don't tell anyone because they already know) she can see him and he can see her in a spider sense, they do the point meme whenever they sense each other.

Little stabby Damian finds out that this person with his father has been trained by many an assassin (Wade, Daredevil, Natasha, Shield in general)

And Wade...Deadpool pops up occasionally, even he doesn't understand why or how lBruce gets a strange feeling he should punch the Flash in the face the next time he sees him)

Bruce having to deal with Deadpool is terrible for him and I sadly love it.

(Also on the point of Black suit spidey in Gotham...ESPECIALLY after Jason is murdered? Oh Peter is killing the Joker, or his arm privileges forfeit. I feel like Peter would try not to kill him but wouldn't try too hard.)

Spider-man being a founding members of the Justice League, them having to deal with Peter crawling on the ceiling, and scuttering through air vents!

Peter making Parker Industries, pointing inventions from other heros/villains from his world, he isn't above pettiness, and that's how the DC world gets some of Reed Richard's old designs he gave to Peter "Because they are practically useless" they arnt they save millions of lives. Not to mention Arc Reactors, Peter grinned the whole time claiming it was his idea.

Hope you enjoy my ADHD rambling brought to you be sleep deprivation

[siphisket]

Get Spr(ule)onkd

[maxybabyy]

passions narrow but deep

inspired by this wonderful gif (also on ao3)

By the time she unwraps the measuring tape from his neck, Max is ready to bolt.

She brushes her thumb over his skin where she must have left an indent, over the muscle and just inches from his scent gland. Max barely holds back a flinch, clenches his teeth instead.

“There we go,” she says with a smile that drips with kindness, but Max doesn’t care, would rather be anywhere but here. “It’s better to be certain in these situations.”

Max doesn’t reply.

The woman is a beta, and he knows she’s supposed to be a neutral party in this, indifferent to the dynamic pull from either side. It’s clear too from the almost clinical way that she touches Max, hands ruthlessly direct in how she moves him, brushing over spots that would be intimate – invasive – from anyone else. But still, she has a scent, soaked in someone’s tart, uncomfortable stench that makes his nose itch.

Max pulls up the collar of his shirt, rubs his neck into the sides of it. He stole it from GP during their meeting earlier, and the familiar musk soothes his skin, his nose.

“Here it is, Max,” she says and hands over the strip of leather. The edges are rounded, and it looks like the collar Spyke had worn. Built more for durability than comfort, thick enough that no shirt would be able to cover it, the dark brown always visible on his throat.

“Do you need help to fasten it?”

“No,” he tells her.

He turns to leave, but there’s a touch to his shoulder, an apologetic smile on her face, and Max really fucking hopes it’s the last time he has to see her.

“I cannot let you leave without the collar on, the FIA mandate went into action today.”

He shrugs off her touch, fumbles with the clasp until the leather opens. It takes longer than it should, rough on his fingers, and maybe it isn’t meant to be taken off. Max wouldn’t put it past them.

It’s – fine, how it sits on his throat.

It doesn’t dig into his skin, but he feels it when he moves his head, the subtle strain makes it impossible not to. Max wonders how it will be in the car on tracks with sharp turns and bumpy kerbs, if they had someone test it under duress. If they considered how the collar could impact breathing, track awareness.

He doesn’t know who would have volunteered to test that.

“I think you wear it well,” she tells him kindly. Max wonders if he’s the first of them to come through, if she told the other three the same thing.

“I have written down your measurements if you want to –“

Max slams the door shut behind him.

There’s a box in his office when he comes back to the factory.

It’s neatly wrapped, and there’s a card to the side that Max doesn’t bother to read. He already knows what it is. There have been no recent anniversaries, no wins outside of the usual, no achievements to celebrate – nothing but the fucking FIA-mandated collar.

 The collar inside is nice.

The leather is a dyed blue and soft to touch. The colour matches one of his TAG Heuer watches, the buckle the same but without the engraving. Max knows it must have been tempting to keep it, to brand this with the partnership too.

The leather is dotted with gold, no bigger than the holes for the buckle. But as he looks closer, the dots expand and turn into tiny Red Bull logos that span the length of the collar.

Max doesn’t mind it, but he knows Daniel wouldn’t like it.

 Even now with a renewed loyalty to Red Bull, Daniel would wince at the sight, would tell him that it’s a bit on the nose. Tacky, he wouldn’t say – not now, not with the dreams he still has – but Max would know that’s what he meant.

He wraps it around his wrist, tries to remember the look of the watch he left at home.  

The blue looks nice against his skin, and the bend of the leather is better than what the FIA had given him. The buckle comes apart easier, and Max has it off in a second.

He doesn’t put it on again.

Max’s favourite thing after sex is the smell, how the sheets will be soaked in their shared scent.

He’s spread out on his stomach, head buried in the pillow as he feels the slow drip of come as it escapes him. If he turns his head to the side, tucks his nose into his shoulder, he will smell how Daniel’s sweet scent has leaked onto his skin – the sharp notes of fuel, the contrast of the honey that leaves Max dizzy.

Daniel’s hand is heavy on his back, rubbing over the knobs of his spine until there’s a tug on his throat.

“I thought you didn’t like the collar,” he says, voice soft. His hands are careful, hesitant as he slips two fingers underneath the leather.

The collar sits tight on his throat like this, but Max likes how it strains under Daniel’s touch. His breath hitches, and Max already feels come-dumb, but his heart beats wildly in his chest, and Max never wants it to end. Daniel’s eyes are huge when Max turns to look at him, and he thinks he likes that even more.

“I don’t,” Max tells him and chases Daniel’s hand with his lips.

His mouth closes around the meat of his thumb, sucks the skin between his teeth. He moves his mouth down to the bend of his wrist where Daniel’s scent is strong, licks over his pulse until his mouth is full of it, the tip of his tongue almost numb.

“So why don’t you take it off?”

Daniel rubs his other wrist on his throat, over the collar where the scent will cling to him, staying on until his next shower. Even then Max never washes too well after nights like these, likes the way Daniel stays with him.

“There is a FIA thing tomorrow with Red Bull,” Max says. “The buckle is of course so tricky. It is easier to just keep it on.”

His head falls to the side to give Daniel more access to his throat. The collar strains with the move, and Max moans loudly, fucking into the bed where he’s getting hard again. 

Daniel’s hand fiddles with the buckle, the end of the leather slipping out of the tiny metal thing. He pushes the collar down a bit and frowns at the marks it has left. Max usually turns the buckle to the back of his neck. It’s easier like that, irritates his skin less.

“I could take it off,” Daniel offers. His smile is soft as his thumb strokes over the swell of his throat, pressing into his windpipe. “Put it back on tomorrow if you want.”

His head is dizzy, and his body buzzes with heat. His dick chafes against the bed, but even that isn’t enough because he feels so fucking empty as slick slips down his thighs, soaking into the bed. His mouth barely fits around Daniel’s wrist, but it feels right as he bites down, sinks his teeth into his skin.

“Please,” he begs, slurring his words.

Daniel moves quick, strips the collar from his throat and lets his hand take its place, squeezing tightly until Max is loose against the bed. He shakes his wrist free from Max’s teeth and shoves the leather into his mouth instead, “Bite down.”

And Max does.

Max is on the sim when his heat hits.

It’s a rare sunny day in Milton Keynes, so Max shows up in shorts and lets himself be strapped in. The room is stuffy, but it always is, leaving him hot and bothered. Max doesn’t notice until GP touches him on the shoulder to say, “I think you’re going into heat, mate.”

Max squeezes his thighs together and finds a patch of wet between them, bullets of sweat dripping down the back of his neck.

“Oh.”

Since the FIA deregulated suppressants, Max has been working towards a natural heat cycle to let his body rebalance. But that has meant overproduction of slick, scent-sickness and worst of all, flash heats. His summer heat is scheduled for the break when both he and Daniel will be free, not when Daniel is stuck in Italy.

But it’s only a day, and Max makes do. Or at least he does, until Daniel calls him.

Something about hearing Daniel’s voice when he’s half-lucid and sick with heat makes him go wild. Everything that reminds him of Daniel has been left behind, leaving him with half his hand inside him, sloppy with heat and slick as he works himself up to his fist.

“Baby,” Daniel begs him softly. “Be good to yourself, please. For me?”

Max tries, he really does.

But nothing feels good like this.

His body is too big, his skin too tight, his hole is too loose and his hand isn’t big enough. He’s come five times, but his dick hasn’t become soft since he left the factory. His skin itches and when Daniel tells him to touch himself, to make him feel good, Max doesn’t even think as he rips the collar from his throat to wrap a hand around it.

Daniel finds him just after his heat has ended, hand still inside himself and the collar ripped apart by his feet. He’s dehydrated and tired, but he doesn’t want to sleep, and when Daniel tries to make him eat, Max begs him to fuck him.

“Please, Daniel. I haven’t, I can’t –“

There’s still come on his stomach, but it doesn’t count, it didn’t feel good – didn’t make him feel good. Not like Daniel does.

“Okay, Maxy,” Daniel says and fucks him soft, fucks him good until Max’s body feels like his own again.

It’s the same woman who has to make him his new collar.

The same bright smile as she whips out her measuring tape and motions for him to bend down so she can reach, “Better be safe and get the measurements right.”

His jaw feels tight, his feet rooted to the spot, and Max thinks for the first time, that maybe the Red Bull collar would have been just fine.

Carlos is deep in his answer about Monza when Max bends his head towards Daniel, “You are being weird.”

Daniel presses his knee against Max’s with a hum. His eyes are soft when he looks at him, but there’s a furrow between his brows. A note of something sour in his scent, and Max doesn’t like it.

Daniel shrugs, “That’s just me, baby. Race weekend, we’re all a bit weird.”

Max doesn’t let up, stares at him even as he’s asked about the upgrades, about his sim times and the track, how it will fit the car. But Daniel doesn’t budge.

When they let them go, Max shoves him into a side room and locks the door behind them. Daniel pushes him back and pins him against the wall, digging his thumbs into his shoulder.

“Fine, okay. You smell off, like – I don’t know? Are you close to a heat?” Daniel asks. But the frown is still there. He cradles Max’s arm in his hand and pulls his wrist to his nose, breathing in until his senses must be satiated with Max. His face turns soft, but the confusion doesn’t stray. “That’s not – your scent is fine. Could you be getting sick, maybe?”

Max rolls his eyes. He rubs his thumb over the leather of the collar and shoves it under his nose, watches as Daniel’s face transforms with it.  

“Fuck, Max,” Daniel says and shoves his hand away. “That’s fucking nasty.”

“That’s Alex.”

“What?”

“The scent. You didn’t put my collar back on before you left,” Max tells him, eyes sharp because it’s not his fucking fault he’s smelling bad. Daniel of course should have remembered it too. “Always it is back at the hotel, so I had to wear George’s spare.”

Daniel leans in to bury his face in his throat and when he stands back up, his face is smoother than before, more confused than repulsed, “Oh.” He rubs his wrist over the collar, and Max already knows George will be furious, upright and prissy about it.

“You couldn’t have asked Yuki instead?”

“Fuck off,” Max tells him and pulls him in for a kiss.

The next time his collar breaks, it isn’t his fault.

It’s a hard-fought win and Max throws himself into his team, soaks in their praise, in their love. Max has always liked how they touch him after, rough touches and tight squeezes, on his back and his waist, his ass – everywhere they can reach.

Someone touches his neck, and Max doesn’t mind it, knows it’s from the rush of the moment.

Maybe it’s one of the newer guys because suddenly the touch turns frantic. They pull back too fast, too hard, and Max feels the snap against his throat as the leather gives away under their hands.

On the podium, he wears the Red Bull branded collar, neck red from where it had been pulled off him.  

“Back again?” The woman says.

She doesn’t smile at him now, and the measuring tape doesn’t come out. She looks up his measurements on the computer, calls them out to check with him like Max somehow knows them by heart.

“I will put in the order right away, but it will be a few days,” she tells him, and Max knows then that she hates this too.

When the new collar comes in, it’s different.

The FIA must have changed their leather smith because the new one makes him break out in a rash, his skin red and sensitive. The team doctor prescribes him a round of steroids but even that does little to dampen the reaction.

So Max is back to wearing the Red Bull collar but that digs into his skin, sits awkwardly under the helmet, and GP has to tell him twice to stop fuzzing before he can focus on the race.

He’s spread out in Daniel’s bed, dragging his feet to get ready because that means putting the collar back on, when Daniel wraps his hand around his throat, covering up the marks.

“You know I don’t like this shit,” he says with a frown. His thumb soft on his skin even as his nail digs into sensitive marks. “Like, the collaring is a whole fucking mess. But they should at least make them comfortable for you.”

Somewhere in the box of scratched ‘grill the grid’ videos, some fucking marketing exec had the idea to make the alphas design their own collars as if the mandate had been rolled out for the entire grid, “And then we will make them for you to review later on!”

Mercedes’ invitation for that one had somehow gotten lost.

“This is of course what they have,” Max says with a soft breath. He leans into the touch, and Daniel’s grasp tightens, thumb digging into his pulse point. “I could order one also, but who has the time for this?”

Daniel’s hold becomes loose, and Max whines. Daniel shushes him as he pulls his hand away, kissing him as he goes, “Just a moment, baby.”

Max turns to his side to glare at Daniel, at the clock that is ticking down. Rupert will be here soon if he doesn’t get out of bed.

But Daniel is quick to come back, a familiar square box held between precarious hands, and a heat builds low in Max’s stomach.

“It’s cool if you don’t like it, but. I had this made a while ago, like after the shit with Alex?” Daniel says and hands over the box. He keeps his hands on Max’s and helps him unwrap it, the weight of his gaze heavy on Max’s face. “In case you lost it again, so you wouldn’t have to wear his. But I think this would also –“

Max kicks him gently to stop his rambling, rips the delicate paper off the box.

The leather is black and buttery soft when he pulls it out, an odd contrast to the velvet of the box. The buckle comes apart easily and there’s padding on the back of it, so it won’t dig into his skin. It’s thinner than the one from the FIA, barely a thumb’s width, but already it looks so lovely.

“You like it?” Daniel asks when Max still hasn’t said anything. He takes the collar and flips it over, turns it so the front is facing him instead, showing off the engraving of a golden lion staring back at him. “I had them put this in too. So it would fit with your helmet.”

“Daniel,” Max whispers.

He traces the logo with his finger, the familiar lines. There’s something else on the inside, on the side that will press against his skin, and Max sucks in a breath looking at the ‘3’ printed there.

“I love it. Will you put it on?”

Daniel’s face turns soft, his smile loose and happy. “Always, Maxy.”

Daniel follows him down onto the bed, body spread wide to cover all of Max.

“So fucking beautiful, Maxy,” he whispers and runs a hand over bare skin.

Max shivers underneath him, feels the way the slick pours out of him. Even like this, moments away from being fucked, Max feels desperate. But he always feels like this when Daniel is near, always wants him inside him, on him – close, in any way that he can be.

Daniel's hand wraps around his throat and squeezes, knuckles bumping against the edge of his collar, and Max moans. Daniel shushes him and presses sloppy kisses to his lips, “Soon, baby. I promise.”

Daniel’s fingers leave his skin for a moment to Max’s despair and then they’re back, making quick work of the buckle attached to the leather, pulling the strap free to –

“No! Please, don’t,” Max whines and fumbles to wrap his hands around his throat where the collar has come undone. “What are you doing.”

“I – Max?”

Max twists in his arms, turns on his side to look at Daniel who looks just as confused as Max is feeling. His heart beats in his chest, and Max doesn’t understand why he would take it back now.

“You said – it is my collar, Daniel. You gave it to me.”

“I did, yeah. Of course, I did, baby,” Daniel says, promises. His hands move slowly as they refasten the buckle, pressing the leather into his skin until Max lets his fingers drop. “I just, normally you want it off during sex, so I thought – “  

“But it’s your collar,” Max says. “I like it because it’s yours, Daniel.”

Daniel cups his face with trembling hands, kisses him sweetly. “Okay, Maxy. We’ll leave it on.”  

Max burns hot with heat, with need and desire.

He’s two orgasms in, and he knows it will happen soon. Daniel won’t tell him – Max asked him not to – but he can feel it coming, the anticipation heavy in the air. And then –

Daniel fucks him into him, a stutter in his thrusts and suddenly, there are teeth in his throat sinking into skin, Max mad with pleasure. The bond snaps into place, and Max can feel how his mind makes room for Daniel, how it relents and pushes until everything fits, already so in tune with each other.

Max is flayed open and bare, exposed. But in the best way possible.

“Did you – is it,” he pants, unsure if he will ever stop feeling like this, all consumed by Daniel. “Did you remember?”

Daniel removes his teeth from his neck, licks at the skin with slow, deep licks until leans up to kiss Max. Max hates the taste of blood, but like this, he loves it. The reminder of why it’s there, what it means.

“Of course, Maxy. Your collar will be here,” he says softly and wraps his hand around his throat, squeezing until Max’s sight goes blurry. He leans in to kiss the skin above his hand, where he bit him, “And your mark will be here, visible to everyone.”

“Good,” Max slurs and lets his head be moved into the crook of Daniel’s neck, biting down when Daniel tells him to.

Max barely comes to races anymore, prefers to watch them from home where no one disturbs him. But Daniel had wanted him there, so Max had come.

It’s only been a year since his retirement, but Max has already forgotten the absolute nightmare the paddock is on race day, chewing up and spitting out everyone they can put a name to, and who’s better than a former world champion?

He’s five minutes deep into an interview with some pundit he doesn’t remember the name of when they ask him about the roll-back of the FIA-mandated collars.

Max has already shared his opinion on it, both after he left the sport, and then again when the roll-back was announced. The shitty apology they had directed at him, George, Yuki, and Oscar for that first year where nothing had worked as it should, and then the five other omegas who had suffered under it.

George who had been fuming at the roll-back, at the lack of retroactive action.

“It was of course bullshit,” Max tells them now. His hand rests lightly on the swell of his stomach where the baby has started to kick, and he has maybe two minutes left before he has to pee again. “I don’t know why they made us wear them in the first place.”

“But haven’t we seen you wear your collar since your retirement, Max?” The pundit asks, and maybe it’s supposed to be a joke, but Max doesn’t know them, and it doesn’t feel like it is. Or maybe he’s just seven months pregnant and overly hormonal, who the fuck knows? “So was it really that bad?”

Max stares him down, rooted to the ground until they shift in their spot, and then he says, “I like Daniel’s hand around my neck too, do you want to ask me about that also?”

The other host cuts in, ushering him out fast and unsubtle, “And thank you, Max Verstappen! Let’s head back to the studio.”

[sunsetsandsunshine]

If I may request a Rise fic!! I’m a huge sucker for comfort/cheer up tickles, so could you possibly write a disaster twins fic with Lee Leo and Ler Donnie where Leo’s been having a pretty bad day (because of what is your choice!) and ends up feeling self conscious about himself and stuff, so Donnie decides to cheer up his twin!! Please don’t feel rushed and make sure you’re taking care of yourself ^_^

~ 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜!!! ~

💜💙 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 💜💙

·̩̩̥͙＊*��̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙼𝚂𝙺𝙽𝚂𝙽𝙺𝙼𝙳𝙽𝚂𝙹 𝙽𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙴 𝙾𝙷 𝙼𝚈 𝙶𝙾𝚂𝙷 𝚈𝙾𝚄. 𝙶𝙴𝚃. 𝙼𝙴!!! 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝙻𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝙹𝙰𝙼!!! 𝙴𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚜…𝙶𝚘𝚍, 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢..𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎??? 𝙻𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎!!!˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟺,𝟹𝟿𝟺

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙳𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚍…𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚖𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝…𝙱𝚞𝚝 *𝙰𝙷𝙴𝙼* 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜:  @shut-up-jo @itzsana-kiddingmenow @aceofspades-doodles @ziipzeepzop-eez

@tmntheadforever123 @rice-cake-teen10 @aninabanina6969

@savemeafruitjuice @cedarrthefluffylee @saturnzskyzz @titters-and-tingles

@someone1348 @my-l0v3r-v3rse @snipersiniora @mistyandsnow

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙰𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚣𝚢…

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙷𝙴𝙴 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 🕺🏾✨💞🎶˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me again.” Leo grumbled under his breath as he rested his mouth on his palm, glancing away from his brother as he sighed loudly. 

“Well maybe if you weren’t so fucking reckless I wouldn’t need to.” Donnie growled lowly, glaring down at his twin.

“I’m not a baby, Don. I don’t need to be supervised like I’m some bomb triggered to explode.” The younger said in exasperation, lying down on his bed whilst grabbing a comic book to read off of his desk.

If Leo was going to be told off and scolded by his dear beloved brow-loving brother, he should at least have something to occupy himself with in the meanwhile. 

The softshell groaned eternally at his little brother’s action, quickly snatching the piece of literature out of the other’s hands and throwing it effortlessly to the ground. 

Uninterested lime green eyes locked with a determined yet fierce light golden, both of them refusing to look away or blink to show their dominance.

But after a while, the red eared slider grew more impatient, looking away again as he picked a hangnail on his thumb, “If you’re going to yell at me, can you just get it over with? I saw a reddit post predicting what’s going to happen in The Umbrella Academy season four and I need to read it.” 

“You can read that later, Nardo. I promise you, that reddit post isn’t going to fly away.” The elder said as he pinched the bridge of his snout, “What I need you to do right now is acknowledge what you did today was stupid, alright?” 

Leo looked away from his older brother, scoffing lightly, “I do stupid things all the time. What stupid action of mine are you wanting to scream at me for this time?” 

The softshell turtle took a couple deep breaths at that comment, drumming his fingers on his left arm in a soothing motion because he was NOT going to give into the urge of strangling his twin brother…

…No matter how much he deserved it.

“I’m not planning on screaming at you— that won’t help anyone or anything.” The purple banded turtle explained calmly…but you could see and tell he was starting to lose his paitence. 

“But you want to.” The red eared slider pressed on. 

“Leo…please. I don’t want to argue right now.” 

“We’re not arguing. We’re just kindly discussing my oh-so stupid descision that unfolded earlier today, right?” The younger twin smirked smugly, his eyes locking once again with his brother. 

When it came to arguments, the leader in blue always had this wonderful tactic to avoiding things: attempting to annoy the other person so much that they drop the subject they wanted to discuss with him completely.

It always worked with Raph…which the red eared slider didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

But the only downside of doing this tactic was his dumb twin saw right through it…

…And Leonardo despised it. 

“Nardo…you know what I’m referring to. And stop picking, please. Your going to hurt yourself.” The older attempted to say in a tranquil voice, but it personally just sounded like he was one second away from losing. his. shell.

“I sadly do not know what your referring to.” The blue cladded teen said coyly, picking on his hangnail more desperately now, “Care to enlighten me, Tello?” 

Donnie’s expression hardened ever so slightly at his younger brother’s absolute persistence on annoying him out of his right mind so he could eventually drop the subject…but the softshell turtle was not budging.

His twin would have to try way harder than that.

“I’d love to.” The light golden eyed mutant said in a fake sweet tone as he walked over to lean his shell on Leo’s closed door, crossing his arms in disaproval. The elder grabbed his brother’s sword, planting it right next to his foot so the blue banded turtle couldn’t reach for it. 

The red eared slider’s cocky grin turned to a small grimace (shake) as he soon came to terms with what his older brother was doing…

…He physically could not leave from this conversation…literally.

Leonardo crossed his arms, trying to mimick the other’s serious demeanor but was only met with an icy glare in return. 

“What you did during today’s mission was completley reckless and idiotic, Leonardo…and you know it.” The second oldest said, “I had that thug exactly where I wanted him but noooooo. Because you saw me trip you thought it would be a spectacular idea to throw yourself on top of me as that hooligan tried to hit me with his bat!!” Donatello seethed. 

“We’ve been over this multiple times, Leo! There was no reason for you to do that!” The light golden eyed teen yelled, his glare only hardening more as he saw the younger stuttering over his words to try to defend himself.

“I’m not done.” The taller teen growled, all of his calmness and collectiveness thrown completley out of the window.

The slider slightly flinched (which went un-noticed by the other) at his brother’s genuine angry tone, his left leg fidgeting and bouncing up and down like crazy. 

His tactic was really starting to not work in his favour at all…

“Just…stop putting yourself in the middle of danger like you’re just expecting the rest of us to just watch. We’re your family…and most importantly, we can defend ourselves just fine.” 

“Well ihisn’t that hypocritic!” Leonardo scoffed before creasing his eye ridges together in genuine confusion, mumbling to himself, “Hyp…uh…hypocrotic? Hyp…Hypocratic…?” 

“Hypocritical?” The older deadpanned.

“YES! THAT WORD!” Leo said, “When we were fighting Kraang Prime on the ship and he went to take a blow at Mikey…what did you do?”

Donatello scowled, his eyes not leaving his twin, “…I went in front of him and shielded him with my mystic tech.”

“Exactly.” The lime green eyed mutant scoffed, “And how is that any different from what I did, hm?”

“BECAUSE I HAD A PLAN!!!” Donatello shouted, “I planned to accordingly go in front of Mikey so my sheild could protect both him and me. Did it end up turning out perfect? Fuck no. Kraang Prime slashed right through it and me and Mikey went tumbling towards the ground…” The glasses wielding teen said through clenched teeth. 

The light golden eyed teen rubbed his face tiredly, his hands clenching and unclenching in frustration, “But I had a plan. You on the other hand, just zoomed recklessly on top of me and hoped for the best.”

“…I saved you, didn’t I…?” The younger twin mumbled out meekly, causing Donatello’s blood to absolutley boil. 

“That’s not the point!!!” The elder said as he clenched his hands at his sides again.

“Then what is?!” Leo said desperately, “Because from the looks of it, it just seems like you want to yell at me for just doing my job.” 

Leonardo pulled on his mask tails anxiously, trying to calm himself down but ultimately just making himself feel worse by doing the action, “I’ve been trying to be a better leader—“

“Leo—“

“—For you and Mikey and April and Raph and Casey and C.J. a-and Dad! But it seems like no matter what the hell I do there’s always something I’m doing WRONG!!!” The younger twin shouted, blinking back tears as he glared at the ground as if it took his Jupiter Jim comic.

Which…it did. The blue banded mutant wanted it back now, actually…

“I saved you! I-I didn’t even get hurt by doing it but somehow there’s an issue…” The lime green eyed teen murmured, both of his legs bouncing up and down as he tugged on his mask tails harder, “There always is…”

“Leonardo can you please just listen to me?” The older twin said in irritation. 

“But Don I’m—“

“No, Leo! Just listen! That’s all you need to do!” Donnie snapped as he cut his brother off, “I don’t want you leaping head first into harms way! At all! Especially if you don’t have a plan!” The softshell turtle exclaimed as he flapped his hands against the side of his thighs, but his eye contanct remaining on his little brother.

“Oho so now you don’t trust me well enough to know that I can handle myself in combat?” Leo said in a last desperate attempt to make his brother drop the conversation.

“I…” The young scientist’s eye twitched, his eyebrows creasing together as he had to physically restrain himself to not beat the ever living crap out of the other teen, “THIS IS NOT ABOUT TRUST, NARDO!” The light golden eyed mutant screamed desperately, his hands flapping faster as the red eared slider shrunk at his usage of tone, “This is about you not even thinking about what would happen to yourself when you do reckless nonsense like this.”

Leo glanced to the side, his eyes watering as he bit the inside of his cheek.

He just wanted to help and be the leader his brother’s deserved…

But he always found a way to fuck it up without even noticing, huh?

"You don't think about what could happen to you and I hate it!” The elder cried, “What would’ve happened if Raph didn’t come behind the guy and knocked him out cold at the last second, huh?! Would you have just stayed right on me as he continued to beat you with his bat?!”

Leonardo bit the inside of his cheek harder, his legs bouncing up and down more as his fingernails dug unforgivingly into his arms, “I-I’m sorry, Donnie—”

“Or would you have tried to fight him instead?! Mind you, you dropped your sword before coming to me so you’d have no weapon to defend yourself.” 

“You don't think about how much it scares me when you do dumb shit like that! I hate seeing you get hurt…I freaking loathe it.” Donnie rested the back of his head on Leo’s door, taking a couple deep breaths and hugging himself in an attempt to calm himself down.

Jeez…when the hell had he started yelling? His throat stung like a bitch now…

And when had he started shaking like a bobby head?!

The older twin’s expression softened, pinching the bridge of his snout once more, “I care about you…so fucking much, okay…?” The purple banded turtle said gently as he gradually started to simmer down and become more calm, “Your my twin…my little brother. And I hate to be repetitive but I-I just despise seeing you hurt…physically or emotionally…so please just…”

The young scientist’s eyes widened, peering down at his brother who did not seem to be following…at all. 

Leo’s eyes were wide as saucers as he hit his arm with his fist repeatedly whilst obviously trying to suck in whatever tears dared to try and escape. 

The taller turtle basically ran to his distressed twin, trying to stop him from harming himself any further but was only met with a low grunt.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Fucking shit. 

Wonderful job, Donatello! You yelled at your brother so much he shut down!

Even though you knew he can’t fucking stand being yelled at and the whole point of you even being here was to explain what he did wrong collectively and calmly because that was the exact oppositeof what Raph does when he’s worried…

But no! You yelled at him anyway.

Wonderful job, Donatello…wonderful. job. 

The older twin sighed sadly, gently grabbing his brother’s wrists so he would stop hitting himself. The two brother’s shared eye contact once again, an unsure lime green meeting an understanding yet uncertain light golden.

“Nardo…” The softshell started, squeezing the other’s hands gently, “…Are you with me, bud…?”

Leo just nodded quietly, squeezing back. 

“God…Nardo I’m so sorry…” The older muttered, “I don’t…I don’t know why the hell I lost my cool like that. I-I’m sorry I yelled. I shouldn’t of yelled…I-I just…” Donatello sighed, squeezing his brother’s hands once again. “I’m not angry with you. I…I was just frustrated.”

“Well, no…let me rephrase: I am angry with you— livid even. You know damn well enough that when you do those kinds of things my heart literally jumps out of my shell. I need you to put into consideration that I would like to live to at least seventy-seven…”

The younger twin giggled wetly, fidgeting with his brother’s fingers as he spoke, “…Why seventy-seven?”

“Albert Einstein died when he was seventy-six…I can and will outlive him.” The light golden eyed teen said matter-of-factly, “But back to what I was initially saying…I know you meant well. You saw that I was in trouble…and you dropped literally everything in order to help me get out of said trouble. You don’t think of what happens to you…you just do it because you’ll know if you do we’ll be alright…”

“I-I just…I just wanted to protect you…I-I just wanted to help…” Leo tried to explain.

“I know. I know, Lee…” Donatello sighed, rubbing the slider’s knuckles gently with his thumb, “But you need to understand that with you trying to protect us that way, your putting us in the same situation your trying to keep us away from.” The elder explained lightly, smiling softly as him and his twin’s forehead’s touched. 

“You’re getting hurt— or at the very least almost getting hurt. We’re feeling the same anguish and guilt you would feel if any of us did that. I get that you want to be a good leader and shit…but you can lead well without doing that…okay?” 

Leo fiddled with the other’s fingers a bit more, his bouncing leg starting to calm a bit, “I’ll…try to be more careful when it comes to me protecting you guys like that. When I see you all in trouble…I just…react. I don’t really care about what happens to me as long as you guys end up okay. But…I’ll try to be more careful. And if I ever end up, like, being a bit too reckless…you can just tell me…deal?”

“Deal.” Donnie nodded, squeezing Leo’s hands one last time before letting go, wiping his twin’s eyes with his hoodie sleeve, “Now please stop crying or you’re going to make me start crying.” 

Leo snorted, examining the other’s now tearing up expression, “I think it’s a bit too late for that…” 

“GAH! FUHUCK!” Donnie cursed, wiping his own eyes as the slider laughed loudly at his exclamation.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Leo…don’t you think you’re getting a bit too big for this…?” Donatello grumbled as Leonardo was on his lap, getting all nice and comfy as he rested his chin on the older’s shoulder. “Noooope.” Leo drawed out, making a dramatic popping noise at the end of the 'p', “'Sides, this is what you get for making me emo earlier.”

“…I said I was sorry…I didn’t mean to shout at you like that. I was just concerned…” 

“I know that, you worrywart. I was just kidding.” The lime green eyed teen said lovingly, squishing his brother into a tighter embrace. The older let out a short shriek at the hug but of course didn’t mind the other being so clingy. 

If the young scientist really and truly did mind? Leo would’ve been pushed to the floor by now. 

The two twins shared a comfortable silence…well…a semi-comfortable silence.

The purple banded teen felt…off. His younger brother had this…look in his eyes; like he wanted to say something but was afraid of what Donnie would say or how Donnie would react.

Which was so damn dumb Donatello didn’t even know how to explain it.

“…There’s something else on your mind.” The taller turtle hummed, his suspicions only rising as the other glanced to the side. “Uhm…no there isn’t. See? This is why I call you a worrywart.” Leonardo said, tapping his fingers on his thigh nervously. 

Very convincing Leo…very convincing.

“Don’t even try lying to me, Leon. My older brother and twin senses are tingling. You can’t argue against that kind of logic.” The scientist said matter-of-factly. 

“What are you, Spiderman?” The younger snorted. 

“We shall never know.” The older shrugged, a small smile spreading to his face as he saw the other snort softly at his statement, “Now stop deflecting. Spill.” 

“…Can you…adjust my elbow braces…?” The red eared slider muttered.

“…Why can’t you do it?” The other questioned. Not in a malicious way; he was just genuinely curious. 

“I like it when you do it. You make it more firm, y'know?” The blue banded turtle whined dramatically, “Pleeeeeease?”

“Ugh, Jesus— fine. But drop the pout…you look ridiculous.” The taller mutant sighed, lightly grabbing his brother’s arm as he readjusted the braces. 

The purple banded turtle meticulously took off the other’s left arm brace, tracing his twin’s elbow to make sure it was healing correctly— which the slider couldn’t help but wriggle slightly to.

As the older twin put the brace back on, he looked at the other turtle in complete worry, “…Why are you squirming around so much?” Donatello asked in confusion. 

“…No reason.” Leonardo stated, but let out a tiny squeak as Donnie lightly pinched his forearm. 

“Yohou okay…?” The glasses wielding mutant giggled.   

“I-I’m fihine!” The smaller turtle insisted, covering his mouth as he let out a loud shriek in result to his brother now lightly scribbling his forearm. “EEEEE! P-Plehease moohoove yohour hahahand!!” The younger sputtered out, hiding his face in the crook of the scientist’s neck which the older turtle couldn’t help but let his heart melt to.

“Oh.” Donatello hummed, biting back an amused laugh, “Sorry. Sometimes I forget how ticklish you are…”

“Snrt I-Ihihi’m nahat ticklish. I juhust don’t wahant your hand thehere…” 

And isn’t that quaint. 

If Donnie had a penny for every time Leo said he 'wasn’t ticklish', the softshell would be richer than Elon Musk.

“…Right. So…you wouldn’t mind me doing this then?” The young genius mused as he scribbled one hand over his twin’s ribs. “EEEEHEH! Duhuhude noHOH!! F-Fuhuck yohou!” The younger twin managed through his small giggles, pushing on his brother’s plastron to try and escape while he still could.

The elder laughed fondly at his little brother’s futile actions, hugging him closer as he lightly tickled him, “Nahardo! My brohohother in Christ gehet back here or you’re gohoing to fahall off of the bed!

“N-NOHO!! LEHET ME GO!” The lime green eyed teen screeched loudly, kicking his legs and pushing even harder on the other’s plastron, his eye’s widening in panic as his older brother casually lifted him up and pinned his arms above his head, his plastron now facing up on the bed.

Eugh boy…

Donnie grinned, sitting on the other’s thighs as he wiggled his unoccupied fingers in the air near the slider’s side, “That’s better~!”

“WAHAIT WAHAHAIT snrt PLEHEASE DEEHEE!!” The red eared slider cried, kicking his legs from underneath the scientist.

If he was going to go down…he would at least go down fighting. 

“I haven’t even touched you yet, you goof…” The older twin chuckled. 

“B-BUHUT YOHOUR GOHOHONNA!” 

“'Gonna' what, exactly?”

“TihiHICKLE ME!!” 

“Tickle you? Well, why didn’t you just say so in the first place?” Donatello snickered, using his free hand to skitter his fingers along the crook’s of the younger’s neck. 

The blue banded turtle squealed, shaking his head back in forth whilst scrunching his shoulders, “GAHaha— snrt EEEEHEEHEH oho cohome snrt OHAHAN!!” 

“What’s wrong, Leo? I thought you said you weren’t ticklish~?” The older teased.

“Snrt STHDHAHAH! Shuhut UP! IHI’M naHAT!” The younger shouted, tugging and pulling his arms to try and get his hand’s free from the other’s grasp. Donnie just laughed softly at the action, wiggling his fingers above his little brother’s stomach. 

The lime green eyed teen’s eyes widened in panic, thrashing in the hold to try and loosen his brother’s grip but the purple banded turtle did not budge even a smidge. 

Leo’s laughs became more giddy and loud as he continued to squirm, small squeals and snorts escaping his beak as his twin brother’s hand went sloooooowly to his stomach. 

“N-NOHO NONONONO DAHA— snrt DOHON!!” The smaller turtle snorted, hiding his face in the side of his arm which Donnie couldn’t help but giggle to. 

The light golden eyed mutant rested his hand on the slider’s plastron, making the younger turtle’s laugh raise almost a thousand octaves. 

“DOHON’T snrt DOHON’T DOHOHON’T snrt YOU DARE!! YOHOUR SOHO MEEHEEHEEAN!!” Leonardo whined, hiding deeper into his arm and becoming a giggly flustered mess.

The older twin shook his head fondly at his little brother’s embarrassed state, taking the opportunity to tickle the younger’s stomach while he wasn’t looking. 

Leo let out a loud scream, descending into high-pitched cackles as even louder snorts followed, “HAHAHAHELP!! IHI’M SNRT BEEHEEING SLAHAHAUTERED!!” 

“I’m quite literally only using one hand, Nardo. Stop being dramatic.” The light golden eyed teen mused whilst watching his brother snort and squirm, “And here I thought I was the dancer of the family. Look at you! You’re making up a whole dance routine right now!” He said as he let go of Leo, crossing his arms in amusement. 

“S-Shuhuhut snrt up…” The younger twin wheezed out, hugging his middles as he playfully glared at his purple loving brother. 

Then, a lightbulb went on in the scientist’s brain, a smug smile spreading to his face, “Hm…you know, Lee—”

“Dohont call snrt me thahat!” Leo giggly interupted. 

“Uh-huh. Well, Lee…did you know that the underarms are one of the warmest places on the human body?” The scientist said. 

The lime green eyed mutant cocked his head to the side in confusion, “Soho?” 

“Soooo my hands are cold. Very cold, in fact. I’d be forever in your debt if you could—”

“NO! NONOHO WAHAY IN HEHELL! G-GOHO AWAHAHAY!” Leo squealed, reaching for his brother’s wrists as the elder tried to tickle his neck once again.

Sigh…Leonardo made this too damn easy sometimes.

The glasses wielding teen wasn’t just going to miss this oh-so-definetly-not-planned opportunity! The softshell scribbled his fingers along the slider’s underarms, making the younger let out a loud squawk as he shot his arms down. 

“NAHAH AHAHAHA— snrt GEHET THEHE HEHELL OHAHA— snrt OHOHOUT!!” Leonardo cried while banging his heels on the bed. 

“What~?” Donnie hummed inocently. 

“GEHEHET AHA— snrt GEHET. OHOUT. OHOF THEHEHERE!”

“Awe…why~?”

“BEEHEECAUSE IHIT’S SOHO BAHAHAD!!!” 

“And?” Donnie chuckled, “That sounds like a you problem, little brother.” 

“AHHHAHA— snrt GAHAHAD FUHUCK YOHOU!!!”

“Pardon…what was that?” Donnie questioned as he pinched where Leo’s hip met his thigh. “N-NONO— snrt NAHAHAH!! I CAN’T— snrt PLEHEHEASE I’M snrt SORRY!! I-IHI TAHAHAKE IHIT BAHAHCK!!” 

“Nah…I think I’ll just stay riiiiight here for a bit…” The taller turtle smiled, using both of his hands now to tickle Leo into a laughing and snorting blob.

The younger weakly hit his big brother’s arms, throwing his head back as he squeezed his eyes completely shut. 

“…And you know what, Lee~?” 

“WHAHAHAT NOW?!” 

“I’m feeling…kind of famished.” The elder mused, his smile almost looking like the signature Joker’s as he saw his younger brother’s face pale. 

Leonardo scrambled to sit up, fighting with his brother’s arms as he giggly protested, “PLAHA— snrt PLAHAHEASE! PLEHEASE snrt D-DOHON’T!!” 

Donnie pinched his brother’s thighs unforgivingly, “You should have thought about that before yapping such ill nonsense about yourself.”

“WHAHA— snrt WHAHAHA— snrt WHAHAT DIHID snrt IHIHI snrt EVEN SAHAHAY?!” The lime green eyed turtle cackled, flapping his hands on the mattress. 

It took literally everything in the older twin not to coo his baby brother’s adorable actions; instead, he lightly moved Leo’s hands away, smiling evily as he lowered his head to the other’s plastron, “You don’t even know. Guess you really want this, huh~?” 

The blue banded teen kicked his knees into his brother’s shoulders and shell, throwing his head back in complete hysterics whilst waiting for him complete and utter demise. 

The softshell wasted no time blowing raspberries after raspberries in the middle of his younger’s stomach, making sure to move the other’s hands away any time he tried to push at the young genius’ head. 

Donnie didn’t feel like getting brain damage after all.

Plus, he had his signature glasses ᴅᴏɴᴀᴛᴇʟʟᴏ ᴛᴍ on! And those were trademarked…as you can wonderfully see. 

“God…can you get more ticklish?” Donatello giggled, squeezing and squishing the red eared slider’s knees with one hand and scribbling his sides with the other whilst contuinung to raspberry Leo’s stomach. 

“DEEHEE DEEHEEHEE SNRT PLEHEHEASE!!! IHI SNRT DAHAHAH— SNRT DAHA— SNRT DAHUNNO!!” The smaller turtle screamed, happy stimming with his arms on the taller twin’s shoulder.

Donnie couldn’t help but chuckle, deciding to show his twin a tad bit of mercy as he nibbled his stomach lightly. 

The slider let out bloody murder from his beak, happy tears threatening to fall from his eyes as his bubbly cackles and snorts bounced off the walls of his room.

“Jeez…I think Peppa Pig has some competition, huh~?” The light golden eyed mutant snickered.

“PLEHEHEASE!! TEHEHELLO SNRT IHI’M GOH— SNRT GOHOHA— AHAHA SNRT MYHYHY SNRTGAHAHAHAD!!!” The smaller teen pleaded.

“Do you promise to stop putting yourself in between danger and your family?” The older hummed. 

“YEHEHES!!” The younger cried loudly.

“Do you promise to go easier on yourself?” 

“YAHA— SNRT YAHA— SNRT YEHEHES!!!”

“Do you promise to accept your doing an amazing job as leader and we all love you—”

“MY SNRT FUHUHUCKING SNRT GAHAHAD!!! IHIHI SNRT GEHET IT!!” Leonardo shouted, his blush now completley blending into the red stripes on his face. 

The softshell turtle got off of the other, sitting next to his little brother as his little brother in question hugged his middles and giggled tiredly. 

“Y-Yohou could ohof juhuhust sahaid ahall of thahat wihihithout tickling meeheee…” The younger grumbled despite the evident smile on his face.

“And where’s the fun in that?” Donnie smiled back, his expression softening as Leo got up and leaned against him softly. The older wraped an arm around the younger’s shoulder, pulling him closer into a warm, protective gesture. 

“Ahand would yohohou look ahat that! Ihi got yohour emo bahad boy ahahass to smile todahay. Your eheeven hugging me~!” The blue banded leader spoke softly, his voice filled with affection as he poked his twin’s forehead cheekily. 

“You tell anyone that and I will not hesitate to deny that extremely untrue statement.” The scientist huffed, rolling his eyes fondly as his smile spread.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[donkeys-waffles]

One piece of DFO brain rot that has lived rent free in the back of my mind for days is their hair.

AFO has always cut his hair very short, to the point where you can barely see the definition of his curl pattern. He definitely did this for both convenience and safety purposes. Afterall, when you're fighting against people, especially adults as a small child, you have to be careful of things like hair because it's easy for your opponent to grab it and catch you off guard. And I'm sure AFO would have no idea how to care for his curly hair because he never had a parent to teach him basic hygiene.

He kept his hair short all these years because it wasn't a priority for him. But what interests me is Yoichi always had long hair, during an apocalypse his hair poses a big threat for him. If he were to be caught by his hair by an enemy, he could easily be killed with a weak body and no quirk to fight with. AFO never forcefully cut his hair, (I also find it surprising that AFO didn't do this to make them look more alike, I feel like he'd like that.)

Their differences in hair length really illustrates the difference in childhood experiences/exposures to the worlds affairs that the two had. We see AFO was in the middle of everything, he had to fight and kill people from a very young age to protect his brother, and while Yoichi was exposed to some of that. I feel that their key differences in perspective are a root cause of AFO hiding Yoichi away from the worst of it. Like that scene where AFO flies into their hideout and Yoichi is already there, I don't think he was a part of a lot of the fights. I think he was very sheltered after that one scene when they were children, and it looks like Yoichi was attacked.

Yoichi's perspective is very idyllic while AFO is more realistic (in ways.) Yoichi's hair in some ways reflects the innocence he still has while AFO, who was forced to keep his hair short for protection, is scarred and brittle from what he was exposed to.

Yoichi is childlike in his heroic admiration.

AFO is childlike in his admiration for the villain who was surrounded by followers. He's childlike in his need for what he believed was love, a sense of belonging, and calm (his childhood scarred him to the point of sabotaging all of that.)

Now with Izuku, I see it as being similar.

Izuku keeping his hair on the longer side is very important to AFO. I like to think that AFO only started to learn how to take care of curly hair when Izuku was born with it. He read all the books and bought all the products. He kept his hair short, but he wanted to make sure Izuku could keep his hair long. I like to think that baby Izu had the best curls, fluffy, shiny, and soft. I like to think that Izuku knows how to care for his hair even if he doesn't remember who taught him.

And I like to think that AFO did all of these things for Izuku in the same way he did for his brother. He wanted Izuku to keep that innocence. He wanted to make sure his ducky never had to fear getting grabbed by the hair in a fight, because he'd never be a part of any fights. It all travels back to his hatred for All Might, that safety and innocence.

It all travels back to his warning, about the 'thorny path' Izuku was following. Because while the paths between them aren't the same, hero and villain, they take with very little reward. And I feel AFO knows that very well.

[mommycity]

Thinking so much rn.

Thinking bout roommate Choso who saw you wear that pretty body con dress now he’s washing it while doing both of your laundry. He thinks the dress looks so good on you, it’s a black mini dress with a low cut top and thin straps the fall off the shoulder. He gets a curious idea, anxiety quells him to do other wise but he wants to satisfy this weird hunger: he wants to try it on. He doesn’t think he’ll look as good as you no, but he wants to humor himself a bit.

But there’s nothing funny about it when he tries it on. The dress is so tight in him. His pecs and collar bones so beautifully on display, his creamy thick thighs contrasting the thin black dress. Choso turns to see the back of the mirror. His ass stands so proudly, the defiant curve poking just where the dress stops. He hesitantly grabs his ass and squeezes before letting out a soft moan. “N-no can’t do this gotta take this off” but he doesn’t. He runs his hands up and his body in the dress and images it were yours caressing and fondling him anyway you like. He stops at his chest and pulls the dress down to rub and tweak his nipples. Choso’s cute little cock twitches at the stimulation. His hands travel even lower and open palm his aching dick. He pushes the dress up to squeeze his base and he releases a squeak.

He has an even brighter idea. He stuffs his hard cock back in the dress and teases the head. A wet sticky dark patch grows near his tummy,”supposed to be hgnn~ supposed to be doing laundry. Bad boy cho”. He leans into the washing machine and lets his upper body use it for support. Choso sticks his deft fingers into his mouth and rolls his tongue along the digits, getting them as wet as possible. His left leg lifts up unto the washing machine and he starts by rubbing the warm wet fingers on his taint. “HAah ohhh please ha fuck”, before they travel lower to rim his asshole. He dips the fingers in while gripping the length of his cock. Both his hands work diligently to get him off. His finger pound inside at a steady pace till he adjusts his angle. He snaps against a bundle of nerves that makes him kneel over even more, legs becoming too wobbly to hold himself up.

“Help me pleasee fuck me” the soft boy chants as his fingers work at priding his prostate and working his leaking dick. He was so close to releasing in your cute dress too, but that all froze. “Hey Choso have you seen my dress again? I’m heading out lat”, the sight was truly something to see.

Choso laid across the washing machine flatly palming his cock and fingering himself in your little back dress. Once your eyes met his they start to well up with tears. He’s so ashamed all he can do is whimper, so, so pathetically. He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, fingers still working in and out of his hole.

“M sorry m so sorry”

“Cho-“

“Please forgive me please. Just need to cum please”

“Choso-“

“Sorry haa, fuck. M sorry please. Forgive me I’m begging”

There’s long strides before you meet him closely. His face is so red, his lips puffy and swollen. The tears that decorate his cheeks are just too much. You sit your self on what little room the washing machine has left and lift his head to fit in your lap. Your lips smile at him softly,”s ok cho, finish for me baby”. A hand smoothes his black hair over and tucks a few strands behind his ear. “Could never be mad at you cho”, he’s becoming undone. The thrust in his wrist now weakened. After a few short workings over the head of his cock he cums inside the dress. The wet spot seeps all over his stomach and he moans a nice big thank you.

“Lets get you cleaned up” and you give him tons of kisses and a nice bath yay!!!

[flowercrowngods]

@steddieas-shegoes hoped for some sexytimes for this wonderful hurt/comfort piece, and i will jump at the chance to practice my smut so uhh!! explicit: quiet sex, trying not to get caught

Eddie’s touch leaves goosebumps on Steve’s skin where he’s slowly, gently trailing his hand along his sides, his back, up all the way to the nape of his neck. It’s an innocent touch — soothing at first, calming him and his frayed nerves, smoothing out the edges of his sharp and cutting thoughts.

But then, somewhere between love and touch and silence, the air in the tent has shifted into something else. Something that comes with goosebumps and hitching breath and racing heart.

Something that makes Steve’s dick twitch against Eddie’s thigh when on his next stroke, Eddie lightly tugs on his hair. Steve turns his face to bury it in his boyfriend’s chest and hides a sigh in the fabric of his shirt.

He can feel the vibrations of Eddie’s hum as they travel all across his body, and he can no longer bear it not to kiss him.

In one swift motion, Steve rolls on top of Eddie and connects their lips in a hungry kiss that in turn serves to swallow their moans, because Eddie is hard beneath him. Steve rolls his hips in a slow, teasing motion as he deliberately sucks Eddie’s tongue into his own mouth, leaving his love with a breathless sigh of his own — just short of a moan that he breathes right into Steve’s mouth.

“Stevie,” Eddie whispers, whimpers, keens, his hands tangled in Steve’s hair and applying the sweetest kind of pressure as he tugs just so. “Baby, we— they’re gonna hear.”

“Hear what?” Steve asks innocently, nipping on Eddie’s bottom lip before delving back in for another deep, breathless kiss.

In lieu of an answer, Eddie just rolls his hips, meeting Steve’s absentminded movements in a torturous manner that has Steve whispering Fuck! into the kiss. And again, when Eddie’s free hand comes up to control the slow gyrations of Steve’s hips.

“Eddie,” he breathes, and it almost sounds like a prayer. A plea. Begging. For what, he doesn’t know. Release, maybe.

“Shhh,” Eddie quiets him, rolling them over so he’s on top now, hovering over Steve. He brushes the hair away from his forehead that has begun to stick there as the air in the tent has grown hotter and hotter. “Quiet, baby.”

“Make me.” It’s a whisper, not nearly as defiant or challenging as either of them are used to, but it still makes Eddie growl, then exhale deeply as he tries not to laugh.

“Menace,” he says, kissing Steve deeply.

“Look who’s talking,” Steve bites back, winding his arms around Eddie’s shoulders to hold him for a second, to feel the matching pace of his racing heart, and hide his own breathless laughter.

They’re really doing this. They shouldn’t. The kids are only a few feet away, every movement in the tent can be heard easily, and the heavy breathing of two horny boys doesn’t really blend well with the sounds of the forest at night.

He’s just about to say something, when Eddie takes off his own shirt and then slowly, almost reverently, pulls Steve’s own shirt up and over his head, leaving them both breathing heavily. Steve lets him, keeps his eyes on Eddie the whole time — a glorious sight even in the dark, the way he straddles Steve’s thighs like that’s where he belongs.

And it is. He does.

“I love you,” Steve whispers. And again, when Eddie lies back down on top of him, their skin finally touching, their hands finding each other easily, their grip secure and tight and loving.

He bites Steve’s earlobe gently before murmuring with hot breath, “I’m gonna make you feel good, Stevie. Do you want that?” The question is accompanied by another roll of his hips, their clothed dicks rubbing against each other just this side of perfect, and Steve needs more. Wants more. Wants Eddie.

“Uh-huh,” he breathes, and it’s almost a whimper, almost a moan, and almost too loud. It makes Eddie grin, makes him bite his ear again as he chuckles darkly, leaving Steve with goosebumps all over.

“Quiet baby. You don’t want them to hear, do you? Don’t want them to know just how good you can be for me, hm? And I for you. They don’t get to know, angel. And do you know why?”

Steve shakes his head, already dazed and heady and a little desperate for more of Eddie’s touch.

“Because I’m yours. And you’re mine. And you gotta be quiet.”

With that, he catches Steve’s lips again just in time to swallow his heady whimper, because Eddie’s hips are moving again and he doesn’t stop this time.

And Steve can’t make a sound about it.

The thrill of being forced to silence turns him on in a way he never anticipated, and his dick twitches in its confines.

“Eddie,” he breathes again, and it means, Yes. It means, Make me feel good. It means, Please. It means, Anything. Everything. Please, baby.

Another chuckle against his skin, and then one of Eddie’s hands begins to travel downwards, leaving him to shiver in anticipation — even more so when Eddie sucks on his tongue the very second he wraps his hand around Steve’s dick.

It’s torture, trying to stay quiet. Trying to breathe just right — not too loud, not too heavy. It’s torture and it’s thrilling and it’s perfect, and it makes Steve arch his back even on the uncomfortable, hard ground beneath him.

Eddie grins against his lips, still busy devouring his mouth with everything he has, and finally, beautifully, wonderfully begins to stroke Steve’s dick inside the boxers he decided to wear to sleep.

“Yes,” Steve breathes, closing his eyes at the perfect sensation tingling up his spine, ridding him of any conscious and coherent thought that isn’t Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

“Yeah?” Eddie sounds both smug and encouraging, tightening his fist around Steve’s cock, and it has Steve burying both of his hands in Eddie’s hair, tugging and pulling until he has to swallow a moan himself.

“Ye— God, yes.”

“Good,” Eddie whispers, trailing his lips down the side of Steve’s face who tries to chase him, tries to get Eddie to come back.

But he won’t budge, attacking Steve’s ear instead, sucking at the soft skin just below it, fully aware of how sensitive Steve is there. It has him keening, bucking his hips further into Eddie’s touch, going crazy when Eddie breathes a laugh right into his ear.

“You’re doing so good for me, Stevie. Pretty boy, my pretty boy, looking so beautiful when you feel good. Am I, Stevie? Am I making you feel so good? Are you gonna come like this?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve moans, trying so desperately to keep it down. But how can he, when Eddie is humping his leg, when Eddie is breathless himself, when Eddie touches him like that and makes him feel so, so good. “Uh, I’m— Fuck, Eddie.”

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Steve comes — and how hard. His legs buck when after two, three, four more perfect, mean, heavenly strokes, he comes in his boxers with a stuttering breath that turns into a king, drawn-out moan.

“God, angel, that was— You’re so— Fuck, I’m—”

And Steve can’t even think about reciprocating; because Eddie’s hips stutter against him before he, too, stills with a blissed-out expression.

Steve, breathless and a little giddy, asks, “Did you just…”

“Yup.”

There’s a moment of silence before they both break into giggles. Eddie buries his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, who immediately winds his arms and legs around his boyfriend to hold him, dazed and happy and so, so giddy. It’s ridiculous. Eddie is ridiculous.

Steve loves him so much.

“I love you, too,” Eddie hums against his skin, smacking kisses to his shoulder and his neck.

“But next time I wanna hear you again,” Steve says eventually.

Eddie grins against his skin, nipping at the soft skin until Steve playfully shoves his face away. “Deal.”

Steve’s heart is light when he falls asleep not long after.

[k-l-ng]

Pre-Exams Days me : realizes that nothing and nobody is stopping me from word-vomiting my love for Lan Sizhui. 

Like, look at him. He’s gentle, thoughtful and resourceful. He’s handsomely pretty.  He’s Baby but reliable. He’s adorable but cool.

In one non-existent mdzs fanfic I would have him go on an investigation with his friends (bcz Friendship is Wholesome). Also I could ship him with anyone but that’s another story. If I were a bit mean he would have to face some life-threatening menace and get out of it injured but victorious, because that’s usually the fate of my fav characters (sorry). He’ll be cared for though, by his friends of course and Wangxian who are basically his parents.

I would have him explore his relationship with Jin Ling (best friend slash cousin). They could support each other as they face their new responsibilities as Sect Leader and Sect Heir. They would sometimes meet up at Lotus Pier, and yeah Yunmeng-bros reconciliation is happening. Jiang Cheng deserves better, much love to him, and I’m sure he’ll get along well with Sizhui.

Jiang Cheng : * proud * ah yes, my nephew who is sensible. I’m sure he’ll take care of my nephew who is not sensible. 

(Cue Lan Sizhui acting self-sacrificing because yeah, he’s Wei Wuxian’s son alright. Jiang Cheng decides that both his nephews need their legs broken.

Jin Ling : Why am I included-)

I could give Sizhui an adventure involving only him and Jingyi, his childhood best friend, because they’re just adorable together and so loyal, literally ride-or-die for each other.

I could have some junior disciples(/villager) have a crush on Head Disciple(/Peerless Cultivator) Lan Sizhui because, again, look at him. 

Me reading MDZS for the first time : Who’s he and why is he so perfect ? (Let me tell you if I were there, a fanclub would definitely exist.)

What about a competition between Sects ? He would end up first when it comes to musical techniques and archery at least. (Sorry I make the rule. Also I believe Wen Ning is a good teacher.)

In another non-existent mdzs fanfic, an original character would want to court him (listen, outsider pov is sexy). Watch him win hearts even as his Wen heritage is discovered. Watch him grow and become even more settled, confident in his own abilities. This other talented new Yao Head Disciple threatening his position as the most eligible bachelor discovered his secret ? One dangerous joint Lan-Yao nighthunt later, that dude would promise him protection if he ever were persecuted for the blood coursing through his veins.

[waywardstation]

hi! i havent been on tumblr in a Hot minute but i wanted to come here JUST to tell you that hfbe might be my fave pla fic ive read ao far! the worldbuilding and the characterization of everyone just feels so so right i fall in love

i reread it on ao3 and even tho its not completed its still a joy to reread everytime

Hello hello!! Anon you have no idea how much it meant to me to get to read this. Knowing I put something out there that you wanted to back to and reread means A LOT.

I’m glad you like it so much but man I have been editing the first two chapters (fixing errors, making characters say and do things that are more in line with how I write them now, and just adding scenes in between to help things seem more clear or hit harder), and I’m like man this really isn’t that good haha.

It’s fun to see how much I think I’ve improved since I’ve started trying to write fanfics (I wasn’t aware of how obsessed I had been with commas and run-on sentences at the start lol)

So reading this nice message really gives me such a boost of motivation. I’m so glad you like the worldbuilding, and it makes me excited to get more out because later chapters are when I really introduce specifics on a lot of things. Namely the Pearl Clan’s hunting parties, that has been my favorite.

Now I just gotta get more out! Hoping to put more out for you to read soon kind anon, I really appreciate that you find it’s something you like to reread!

For now, here is a snippet below the cut; I am unsure if I have shared this before, but it’s a scene where Ingo is preparing to advocate for the Clan to use pokeballs to store their pokemon in, so that there is less food consumption (as in HFBE, it’s emphasized that pokeballs put pokemon into a stasis where they don’t need to eat, drink, sleep, etc. for as long as they’re in them. Ingo does it with his pokemon, and he wants the clan to do it too, for their own sakes).

Wording is subject to change (VERY MUCH SO), but enjoy!

—————

“Excuse me Miss Irida, but may we talk for a moment?”

The Pearl Clan leader turned back to see Ingo – he was trailing behind the group, purposefully so. He had been waiting for the right moment to approach her.

“Right now?” Irida’s eyes flickered back over the tops of people’s heads, up towards the communal hall at the top of the hill. “I’m sorry, but can it wait until after the meeting?”

“It is actually about the meeting.” Ingo’s grey eyes were unwavering, waiting — he wanted to ask her something. And Ingo was not one to usually ask for things.

“Ok,” She relented, pausing in the snow both so he could catch up, and they could have their conversation with some privacy. “You have until we reach the hall.”

“Thank you, I assure you it will be quick.” Ingo fell into step beside her, shuffling through the snow as they now both trailed behind the group heading towards the warm hall. He kept his head tilted down just like her, using the brim of his hat to protect against the wind and snowfall. “I, well… I am planning to re-propose a proposition at this meeting tonight. I’d like to make another attempt at advocating for the use of pokeballs.”

“Tonight? Are you serious?” Irida lowered her voice for his sake, looking back between him and the group. How could he possibly think about proposing that when this meeting was for them to discuss how to prepare for this famine? “I’m saying this not as your leader but as your friend, Ingo; now is absolutely not a good time for that. Everyone is already going into this meeting angry. And if you try and start this again, they’re going to-”

Irida took a deep breath; she was already getting stressed over it.

“You know how people are going to react to that. You know who it’s going to upset, Ingo. Especially after last time. And you said you’d let it go.”

“I am well aware of what I said and I intended to stick to it, but these circumstances have changed our tracks, and I believe this may save us from derailing!” Ingo whispered back. He kept throwing quick glances at the nearing hall, gauging how much time he had left to persuade her. “Pokeballs can help us much more than the clan realizes – I’m confident that this can bring us closer to a solution, if not at least be a part of one!”

Irritation and confusion were replaced with genuine curiosity, but a fleck of doubt hesitantly followed after. Irida shook her head, not understanding. “How could they possibly help with all of this?”

“I will explain that in the meeting.” Having conquered the snowy hill, the two reached the warm light that spilled through the hall’s windows to project onto the snow. “But to do that, I need to actually present my proposal, and I’m afraid that will be difficult with the elders tonight. I am trying this for the fourth time now, and I’m aware of how this will most likely be received. I expect they’ll call to send me back to my seat before I even start.”

Ingo paused just outside the doors, waiting for Irida to go in first — she could do so and end the conversation right now if she wanted to, but she didn’t. Instead she stood there, staring at their fading shoeprints in the snow.

Irida could see why he approached her about this now, and a part of her felt sorry for him. “So you want me to vouch for you.”

“Not the proposal itself. Just the time to talk.”

[silentmouthpiece]

I hate to say it, but i might as well.

It would be so easy to become a Jimmy. Hell, there are Jimmy's everywhere, but no one wants to admit or even realize that it would be easy to be just like them.

A problem we have as a people is that as soon as someone commits a horrible or unforgivable act we dehumanize them call them monsters. I'm guilty of it as well. It makes it easier to separate them from us, to believe that no real human could commit such acts. The thing is...they are human. They are like us and we are like them.

Jimmy is human. A severely fucked up one who's gone unchecked to the point of catastrophe, but he's human like us. He sounds and acts like a human, and his actions are very fucking human. His issues that spiraled so out of control are so very human that when I look at them in a certain way I see my reflection in the mirror. I see Jimmy in the ways some people walk and how they talk, but no one ever wants to see Jimmy within themselves. I wish I could say I'm nothing like Jimmy, but I can see all the ways I'd turn out like him if just a few things were different.

If I were a man, would I have absord the toxic masculinity of the fathers and guy friends in my life and all that entails? If I was less empathetic, would I let my resentment at the state of my life control me to the point I can only see the worst in others instead of force myself to maintain a sliver of compassion and optimism? If I wasn't desperate to be self-aware, would my crippling fear of failure and lack of self-worth blind me to the reality that I allowed them to hollow me out and leave me with nothing to be proud of? If a younger me didn't convince myself that I can only punish myself for anything that happens, would I have turned my anger and listlessness into a blade that cuts others instead of turn it inwards or share it with my friends? Would I inflict pain on others once I realized I could fullfil a need by doing so? I could go on.

I am also ashamed to admit that one of my knee-jerk reactions to hurting someone badly (albiet unintentionally) or realizing I was increadibly wrong about something is denial. It doesn't last forever but I will obsess over it for a long time afterwards. It's a nasty feeling and it's an instinct that literally feels like a chain yanking my brain to follow it. Primal fear feels like that as well, and it rears it's ugly head when I'm faced with confronted with reality and consequences of my actions.

I want to go back to college, but whenever my mother brings it up I get locked into a state of primal fear, insecurity and hopelessness because I crafted a reality where I have no skills, goals or ability to pursue a higher education or a life that suits me. Confronting that reality sends me spiraling down a very strong wave of depression that often debilitates me, though I've gotten better at climbing out of it so I can at least focus on my job. It still feels like I'm being compelled to enforce that reality, and that instinct overrides all better senses. It's an unchecked issue that controls my actions.

When I talk to my friends all I can see is that they have something they're skilled at or passionate about, and that they're doing what I told myself I can't. I never thought I was a jealous or envious person, but I think that's because I never resented anyone for what they had. However, I see so many instances and depictions of resentful and malicous envy/jealousy that I know they are typically linked. In a world that's more competitive than I ever was, these emotions drive people to harm each other all the time for any reason one could think of. The worst part is those people can also happen to be friends and family who love each other deep down. It's so damn common that it must be human.

I don't understand the need to force myself on anyone for pleasure or control, so I can't relate or speak on that. It's happened often enough that others can speak on it and that's terrifying, and what I see is so beyond my ability to comprehend as an actual thought process or mentality but it's still very real and human. Animals do it to and humans are animals, but we're not talking about that. I suppose the closest I can get is the callousness I can feel sometimes when I'm absolutely out of patience with someone.

All that to say is... I think I get Jimmy and his inability to accept responsibility and the cognitive dissonance of wanting to be seen as good and capable as he destroys everything and everyone he touches. I get his resentment and jealousy of Curly and that it's so tied deeply with his love for him that it twists into something noxious and all-consuming. I get how his warped perception of others didn't stop him from caring for others (mostly the guys), but it affected how and how much he cares for them. I get the casual cruelty he can dish out and I understand being locked in the worst mental autopilot to avoid the fallout of your reality that you made because couldn't accept yourself.

I hope that all made sense. Jimmy really got me thinking.

[someoneoffthestreet]

MAWS s2 thoughts before the finale:

I’ve been thinking over what we’ve seen of Krypton this season. Mostly how, even though it feels like a lot, we haven’t actually seen much at all.

Notably, most of the information we have received about Krypton is actually sourced from Brainiac, which- well. Brainiac is a certified liar, or at the very least, has a very skewed perspective of Krypton and what it was supposed to be. I do not doubt that Krypton was at one point a warmongering planet that benefited off of others’ suffering (Jor-El’s account backs this up,) but dialogue from Brainiac in 2x08 suggests that, towards the end at least, Krypton was moving away from this and pursuing a more peaceful existence.

(Speculatively, this could have angered some Kryptonians ((it’s been 20-something years and Brainiac still sounds pissed off about it)) and instigated a coup that then led to the attempted invasions against Darkseid/Apokolips and Earth, and we know how that went.)

The images we see of Krypton show the Kryptonians with superpowers on their home planet. But we don’t? Actually know? If that’s completely true?? Because it seems strange that the show would have this, but keep the red sun weakness. Did Krypton not have a red sun in this universe?

Pushing on that, the images of that Krypton are from the Black Mercy, which Kara outright states is Brainiac’s domain. The world Clark is trapped in is based off of the one Kara shows him in 2x05, but we don’t actually know where that vision originated from. It couldn’t have come from Kara, because she was also an infant when Krypton was destroyed and would have no natural memory of it. So whose memory is that? Is it a memory at all? How do we know Brainiac didn’t tamper with it?

(Like in all likelihood it was just a throwaway line, but my brain keeps getting stuck on Clark noticing Ma and Pa’s doppelgängers in Kara’s Krypton, and I keep wondering if maybe that was a result of Clark’s subconscious infecting the simulation because it isn’t an actual, tangible memory, but Kara doesn’t seem to notice anything unusual with the memory so maybe I’m stuck on nothing.)

More on that, is how all of this interacts with what we see of Krypton from Jor-El’s memories. Admittedly he gives us very little, but the contrast is pretty stark. And maybe it’s just because the planet was mere moments from exploding, but the Krypton we see back in 1x02 is a wreck, in very stark contrast to the peaceful paradise that was Krypton’s Last Days as shown in 2x05. Even more notably, neither Lara nor Jor-El do anything superhuman in Jor-El’s account. Think about that. They are rushing to save their infant son’s life, but they aren’t using flight or super speed: they are very much earthbound.

Now to be fair, there’s another explanation. Krypton was already a spacefaring civilization before the fall, so they definitely discovered how their biology reacted to different suns. Maybe they created some kind of device that could simulate the yellow sun on Krypton (like the red solar shielding around Cadmus in s1) that “blessed” all Kryptonians with superpowers; and then this device was damaged/shut off in the time before the planet’s destruction.

Like it could be both: the above point being true and Brainiac still omitting/manipulating things about how Krypton was, maybe to better preserve his idea of what it should have been.

[angeru-hatake]

Yup, finally done with the first story for this couple. Hope you all like it! Please leave me your thoughts or opinions about it or about SCJW in general~

[girlofghosts]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ the way i loved you | harry potter

₊ ⊹ summary: after the tri-wizard tournament, you really don't think your best friend, harry, could've possibly survived it. but he always amazes you—especially after your little reunion, when harry realizes he really doesn't waste any time anymore.

₊ ⊹ warnings: best friends to lovers, first times but not sex, kissing, dry humping, mutual pining, getting caught after but not during, readers not a gryffindor but it's not even a plot point so don't worry

₊ ⊹ a/n: first fic kinda nervy... not proofread it's 3:25 am sorry but i'm barely posting this i kinda hate it like a lot

"...Has anyone seen Harry?" You find yourself saying as you try and apologize your way through the crowds of people in the area, finally landing eyes on Ron and Hermione.

Surely they'd know. And know they did, as Hermione turns to you and says, "Harry's still in there. Haven't gotten eyes on them though."

God, you're sure your heart was nearly beating out of its chest, and it didn't help that you were heating up just from running around in the middle of June in the swarming heat.

Hermione's hand on your back is all you can focus on as you try to convince yourself Harry Potter is not dead. He couldn't be. Injured, at most—

"Y/N?" You hear your name, and by god you've never felt more relief in your life over your name.

The familiar sight of round glasses askew and messy brown hair grounds you as you rush past Hermione and Ron admittedly quickly before halting at the sight—Cedric Diggory unmoving beside him.

"By god, tell me that's your blood on your face." You breathe out, a bit frazzled at the situation, moving to kneel beside him, thumb moving to wipe the deeply wounded scratch on his jaw.

He nods, and at your relief, he snickers, "never took you to be relieved over me being wounded."

"You know what I mean, god, you're so stupid—" your first instinct is to scold, to tell him he shouldn't have gotten hurt. That he shouldn't have been so reckless.

That he shouldn't have given you such a scare.

"Shh, shh," he sighs, still a bit breathless from it all, "save that for later when I'm not so... Winded."

Letting out a defeated sigh in return, you apologize, "I'm sorry. You just really fucking scared us, y'know that? God, I thought you'd died—" you pull him into a tight, desperate hug.

He just takes the hug, the warm touches, greeting Hermione and Ron as they make their way up to the scene as well, particularly engrossed in the solemn sight of the boy unconscious feet away.

Dumbledore finally makes his way up, students naturally clearing a path as he treads up the steps to the scene as well, face unreadable.

"Harry, you best... Clean yourself up, visit the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey can handle those for you, surely." Dumbledore proposes, more of an order than an offer, to which Harry complies with a subtle nod.

Leaning on you for support, he slowly but surely gets up, the other two allowing you to handle it. Hermione's soft nudge as you walk past them tells you all you need to know, really. She's in on it.

Hermione's always been the one to go to for anything, really. As much as she's enveloped in her studies, she seems to be a good multitasker in the sense she'll retain any information you give her as she's studying.

That's how your late night rambles began in your dorm, in the library, all of it. You talking about classes, family, boys, you name it—she knew.

As the Yule Ball approached that year, you'd began the talk of boys, and she was surprisingly interested. Talking about her own interests, particularly of Ron, though. How he treated her like some last choice...

And you, with your best friend, Harry. Though, you two went as friends, it felt particularly good having a multitude of people not know that. Thinking you two were one anothers dates. Especially during The Champions Waltz.

Either way, ever since then, Hermione knew when to leave you two to your endeavors, and to make Ron mind his business.

So when Ron seems to start to follow down the path after you and Harry, it's no surprise Hermione moves to grip his wrist gently to stop him.

"You're easily gonna need some kind of cast, unless you're trying to drink that god-awful bone growth potion again." Your arm is holding him up gently, and the touch has your stomach in knots.

"Don't even remind me, I'll never stop tasting that." He groans, leaning further into you, glancing over and up at you, "say, was Cedric... Was he alright?"

"I don't know." You admit, "I bet he'll be in the infirmary sooner or later. Surely."

Harry takes that as an answer, thankfully, and you two finally make your way into the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey front and center as she ushers Harry in and to one of the many open beds.

It's a while that you two are sat waiting as Madam Pomfrey puts random disinfectant items and healing gels on his wounds before sighing and wrapping up her procedure by wrapping a piece of cloth around his neck to alleviate some stress on his arm, slouching it like a makeshift sling.

"Well, dearie, there's not much else I can do. Magic can't heal it any further. Keep this on as much as you can, alright? Now head up to your dorm, I bet you'll be seeing a visit from Dumbledore soon." She rambles, "now go on."

It's a lot of information, but Harry nods, adjusting to the feeling of it elevated before moving to get off the bed, walking fine now, thankfully.

"Can we go to the dorms now?" Harry asks, looking over at you as you two walk out of the hospital wing.

"The Gryffindor dorms? I can take you, yeah." You reply, not quite taking it as an invitation, but rather a request.

"No, no, with me." He shakes his head, "please?"

It's weird, hearing him nearly plead, but quite frankly you aren't against it one bit.

"Why? And, well, there's no way your roommates aren't in there too." Your eyebrows furrow, confused by the proposition despite wanting to agree without a worry in the world.

"They wouldn't tell, if they're even there." Harry shakes his head, "I just... Don't really wanna be alone after all that."

You can't say no to that. And it's true, Ron, Dean, Seamus, or Neville would never tell a single soul.

It's a long walk up the dizzyingly confusing, moving stairs you can never quite get an understanding for, and down corridors you swear weren't there before. Surely enough, you find yourselves in front of the portrait of The Fat Lady, who lights up at the sight of a new face.

"Oh, who in the world is this now, Harry Potter? A girl from another house?" She nearly scolds.

"Balderdash," Harry tries to ignore her words that'll without a doubt sprout into a lesson.

"Harry Potter!" The portrait attempts to scold him for a second time.

"I know. Balderdash." He repeats, prompting the portrait to swing open, as he hears her continue while he brings you inside until you're in the Gryffindor common room.

"It's awfully quiet." You hum, "and... Empty."

"Maybe they all went back to classes for today." Harry sighs, readjusting his sling, "I'll show you to our years dorm." He changes the subject.

You comply easily, trailing behind him across the room to find a staircase, many offshoots, but you don't get a chance to look too much before he's opening the room to reveal five beds, each with a respective end table and chest, appropriately decorated and left lived in by the others before he finds his own and lies down with a small groan.

Stood a bit hesitantly in the entrance, you take in the empty room, before glancing back at Harry to see him gesturing for you to come over.

You move to sit beside him on the bed, despite the tight fit. He finally speaks up.

"Y'know how you said you thought I died?" He sighs, reminding you of your earlier words.

You don't understand it's importance, but nod.

"Well, for what it's worth, I thought I did too." His messy brown hair splays against the pillow as he lies his head down finally to get comfortable, "and it was... Kind of terrifying. And I've fought a basilisk." He lightens the mood. Or, tries to.

"Yeah?" The low hum of your voice fills the room, nodding as you listen, wondering where this is going.

"I kinda just..." He shifts in the bed, ending up a little closer than before to you, "I didn't realize people were serious when they said your life flashes before your eyes."

That seems to have your heart growing heavy.

"It was that bad? What even happened?" You ask, before realizing... Maybe that's not the best question right now, "er... Just, it was that bad?"

"It was like... I realized how much stuff I regretted not doing. And like... I could die at any time. It was really weird." Harry rambles, "like, there's so many things I realized I should be doing and haven't."

"Like what?" You hum, glancing back over at him despite him looking right up at the top of the canopy of his bed.

"...I didn't get to tell Ron or Hermione I loved them, since I guess I've never been the type to say that stuff even if I mean it. I haven't stopped Voldemort. I haven't proven the Dursleys wrong, haven't avenged my parents..."

"Haven't told you a lot of things I should've by now." He trails off, adding, finally looking over to gauge your reaction. You blink a few times at the bluntness.

"Like what?" You ask all too quickly, shifting.

"...You know I like you, Y/N, don't you?" He murmurs, looking away and back up at the canopy, "and that... That I was gonna ask you to the Yule Ball but totally chickened out." He also admits, vulnerably.

It's kind of a lot to process since he only continues to add fact after fact, each more daunting than the last.

"And that one time I went to your dorm for the night, snuck in, hid under the blankets so your roommates didn't know, I really wanted to do that over and over again. I tried to come by again one day, but the entry was seriously impossible." He goes on, "I just really like being with you, y'know?"

"Shh," you shush him, gently, when you two finally get to make eye contact, trying to sit with the thoughts so you could get a word in.

The way he looks up at you as if you're his entire world has you weak, quite frankly, and you're debating whether to handle this with your brain or heart.

...You opt for heart.

In a few secomds time, your hand moves down to cup his jaw before leaning down to comfortably kiss him, praying he reciprocates.

Thankfully, a few seconds after, he complies, spare hand moving to find your waist gently, the other arm still against the sling as his lips press back to yours.

"I just really don't wanna regret never telling you. Or getting to do any of this stuff that I've always wanted to. Especially when it feels like we could die any day." He murmurs against your lips, forehead pressed to yours as he catches a breath.

"Yeah?" You murmur back, "we'll make sure it happens." The reassurance of your voice is enough to relax him in his position beside you.

You're a bit more aware of your position, halfway hovering over him as he lies down. Surely, if he weren't wounded, it'd be the other way around. Maybe. Probably. It wasn't everyday you got him in bed with you.

"...I don't wanna rush, but I also don't wanna wait anymore. Does that make sense?" Harry asks, hand finding your waist and gently ghosting it.

"I understand, I think." You agree and breathe out, "but we better make a decision quick because we're getting way too comfortable with the idea that they won't come back anytime soon."

He tries to move before soon remembering his sore arm, wincing before watching you opt to move for him, "where d'you want me?"

The sharp breath he sucks in at that doesn't go unnoticed before asking, "in my lap, please?"

Complying, you move to sit on his lap, looking down at him. His free hand finds your thigh.

"Are we seriously doing this?" You ask him.

"Don't have to. Just... Really want to." He says honestly, "you're really, really bloody pretty, y'know that?"

The way he acts and talks is almost cautious, as if you being on his lap was the signal to take initiative right now. Well damn.

"...Thanks," you hum, a bit out of it. You're about to have sex with your best friend, aren't you?

Eyes closing for a moment, he has to take in another sharp yet shaky inhale as he takes in the sight of you on top of him. At least you know you have an effect on him.

Kissing was oddly the safest option in this situation, a thought you never thought you'd have. But here you were, leaning down to trap him in your arms as you lock your lips again, careful of his arm beside him before your chest are nearly against one anothers.

He doesn't speak, kissing you like you're a necessity for life, if not life itself.

Admittedly, you feel him harden against you, bur you can't blame him. You're fully pressed down in his lap, kissing him, shifting to get comfortable here and there.

That doesn't mean it's not surprising, though.

"You already hard?" You murmur against his lips, pulling away enough to talk with him, one hand brushing the hair from his eyes and fixing his glasses.

He nods back, looking up at you, a little breathless.

Well fuck. You're having sex with the guy you've been in love with since your first year. The guy where your puppy love for him turned one random day into admittedly raunchy thoughts you found yourself thinking of late at night.

That wasn't the point right now.

He lets out a soft groan out of seemingly nowhere, head falling back against the pillow as his eyes shut tight, mumbling repeatedly, "do that again..."

"Do what?" You ask, not torturously, but rather confusingly.

"Uhm—just... That." He sheepishly moves a hand to your rear to try and press you down against him once again. Oh. Okay.

So this seemed more realistic right now. Kissing and grinding. Clothes on, all that. You didn't feel as timid now, knowing what was going on.

"I can do that." You hum back, assessing your situation before moving your hands to rest on either side of his head on the bed, hovering over him.

"But bare with me. I've never..." You decide to let him finish that sentence for you, and he quickly picks up on it thankfully.

"Me neither. It's fine. Anything you do feels good, really." He decides to admit in hopes of assuring you.

You nod softly, the high expectations you originally had for yourself lowering thankfully as you seem to feel the pressure lift from your shoulders.

Hips grinding, you press back down into his lap, your own hips stuttering at the feeling as you let out a shaky exhale.

Admittedly, he was in his usual uniform pants, and you your skirt, where this basically had you grinding your panties against him given the position. Any sensatations were heightened and your immediate shudders had him groaning.

"...Keep doing that, please." He pleads a little weakly. You didn't know whether he was always such a taker or if the daunting event had him needing to get taken care of for once.

You weren't not going to, either, though.

"I won't stop, don't worry," you hum, hips gliding over his, feeling him press up against you as you let out your own caught off guard whimper.

"You're so pretty," he repeats, hand finding your waist like before, before moving to move your hair out of your way, "thank god you like me—fuck."

"Yeah? Thank god I like you?" You let out a breathy laugh, before faltering to let out a small gasp, hips stuttering at a particularly good movement that you find yourself repeating for a few moments.

He nods, repeatedly, neck arching against the pillow, "fuck, oh," he bucks his hips, hand steadying yours, "bloody hell..."

You decide not to let up, wondering if that was what he'd need to get off, trying to think of what you'd want in his situation, and he reels.

"Hah, ah, Y/N," his hips buck once more, "need you to cum, too." He pleads.

It's not that you didn't love this, because you loved every second of it, but you weren't close. Not as close as him, anyway.

"Can't, 's okay." You shake your head, "not about me today. Next time."

He snakes his open hand down to your thigh before trying to get your skirt up with one hand and find your panties with the same one. You give in and hold your skirt up for him, wondering where he was going with this.

"Show me where to touch," he looks up, letting you move your own hand to guide his, right to your clothed clit over your panties, hips twitching.

He runs repeated circles over that spot, trying to find the right pace.

"Little faster," you hum, hand now on his thighs behind you, the other letting the skirt fall as you secure yourself on his lap, leaned back, hips experimentally grinding forward again.

"Now do smaller circles," your nods spur him on, and he's seemingly keen on figuring this out right here, right now.

He finally gets it, thumb on your clit, circling at the perfect speed, as you rolled your hips against his clothed cock, watching him twitch at your touch.

Not only that, but he seems to be trying to get you to cum first. His thumb persistent, trying not to get too horny from the sight and feeling of a pretty girls hips rolling against his.

"Harry? Harry, I'm close," you hum, moving back to hover more closely over him, "think you can cum with me?" You hum. You doubt it, simply since he seems so pent up, so sensitive.

"Cum with you? Oh, fuck," he rolls his hips up desperately, making you whine, and him orgasm, totally moaning out as he relaxes against the bed. He bucks his hips repeatedly, long, thorough thrusts against you.

"Harry, *please*," you whine. You don't orgasm at the same time, but during his, as he comes down. He simply keens at your reaction.

"I'm, fuck, I'm..." You roll your hips down, struggling, feeling him shakily move your hips with his hand as he continues to sensitively grind up against you, pants admittedly wet.

Your panties were no better, and you knew that, so you weren't one to talk.

You come crashing down with his meticulous movements he'd learned only minutes ago, whimpering before whining softly as your hips stutter and he guides you through it.

"You got it." He murmurs, reassuringly, rubbing your hips gently as you come down.

Quite frankly, you didn't even feel present after that. Here you were, in Harry's bed, limp in his lap, legs shaky with your head pressed to his chest.

"...We're dating, right?" You breathe out.

"Just let me ask you properly, like you deserve." He sighs with a soft nod, "later. When I can actually... Think. And breathe. And... All of that."

You like the sound of that. And he doesn't seem as stressed as he was earlier about all that... Existential, the world is ending stuff.

"What in the—oh, god, you two—" a loud voice makes you both tense, and Harry grip your waist a little tighter. Ron.

"Get out—!" Harry instinctively calls back out, "10 more minutes, I swear!" He sighs.

"...Did you two—" Ron tries to ask again.

"10 minutes, Ron." Harry huffs. That seems to get Ron to comply, thankfully, and the door closes behind him as he rushed down the stairs.

"...He's gonna tell Hermione." Harry huffs, sheepishly.

"She won't be surprised." You admit. There was no way she didn't see this coming with the things you'd tell her about your crush on him.

"What?" Harry blinks a few times before sighing, "y'know what? I... I don't wanna know. Just lie back down."

He sighs, bringing your head back to his chest and running a hand through your hair, and really, all you were thinking about were his words:

"Let me ask you properly. Like you deserve."

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Both my parents actually suffer from HORRID emotional dysregulation and are prone to snapping and going into rages. My sister is the same way tbh. I am now realizing this is why they are constantly baffled by the question of whether or not I am mad at them.

I don't have external meltdowns.

I could. I don't let it happen.

I keep my rage on the inside and stay pretty quiet about it. It's just as strong as theirs [physically shaking nose bleed from high blood pressure kind of bad], but like as a kid I saw how terrifying it was to be around [dad breaking dishes, mom putting our lawn chairs into walls] and I just internalized that I wasn't going to wear that anger on the outside.

So my mother genuinely cannot tell if I am just being quiet or if I am silently hearing the dial-up noises of pure rage. This has lead her to both making strong and confident statements like "You are a pacifist who would never hurt a fly U.U" but also acting like I am secretly dangerous maybe... It's because she has never seen me snap.

She knows what her temper is like [throwing chairs through walls], she knows what my father's temper is like [pick up child and toss out door], and she can tell I am being tested, but she doesn't know what happens when I snap or where that breaking point is.

Her -perhaps unhinged- solution to this, my whole life, has been to do things that should obviously enrage me or shut me down completely, like ignoring important boundaries, repeatedly, punishing me for expressing emotions or needs at all, etc... And then to constantly ask me if I am angry with her when I get too quiet [right after near directly telling me to shut up].

It has occurred to me now, they have never once seen me lose my temper, so they literally just can't tell if I am angry at them. My sister is easy, my mother fights and screams with my sister constantly, my mother understands this. My mother doesn't have any grasp of feelings or boundaries that are not screamed at her [apparently, and I fear my sister is the same way]. Her and my sister are close despite constant fucking fighting because they understand each other.

They are trying to get me to engage the same way and it is not working. I realize now that this has been hard for them.

I was so successfully taught to suppress my emotions, by being punished for any outburst, that rage quiet looks the same as any other kind of quiet from the outside. To them anyway.

I did tell her. For the record. I used my words. I did tell her very calmly that my response to rage, in order to avoid doing the things that terrified me as a child, was to simply leave [the autistic urge to GTFO]. When a situation or person causes too much of the dial-up rage noise, I simply extract myself from that situation, up to and including never speaking to a person again. I explained this calmly. I explained it calmly 100 times and I explained that I explain myself calmly as my rage response 1-5 [also pretty much every other negative emotion tbh], and I told her that what came next was me simply opting out and fucking off. I told her this. I couldn't understand why she never took me seriously, or why she never fucking understood.

I couldn't understand what made her like this.

But it's the same problem I have with everyone else multiplied by a factor of 10.

If I am explaining myself calmly, they can't understand that it's actually serious or that I am actually upset. ESPECIALLY because they read me as "female" and women "aren't that rational" so if I am not screaming and crying about something, which I never do, people assume I can't be upset and it isn't serious.

And then after having my boundaries ignored too many times despite having calmly explained how and why it's a problem [shaking inside or not]... I leave. I leave and everyone gets upset like this is unexpected behaviour, even though I told them 50 times that is how I would respond if they kept doing *the thing.*

And for neurotypical people especially, they are expecting there to be a disconnect between what someone says they need or feel and what their actually boundaries and feelings are, and they expect the latter to be demonstrated with emotions. Telling them bluntly you do not function that way somehow never helps?

My mother isn't just looking for normal yelling or a few tears to know I am serious, whether or not I do those either [I don't], she's looking for an explosion to know there's a problem at all.

Fucked if I know how she proceeds through life this way in general or if this is just her expectation of her own kids???

And I couldn't get why my mother couldn't read my emotions and didn't seem to think I have any. It's because she's testing for the rage limit to see where my 'actual' limit is instead of taking my word for it. Never the fuck mind that she could simply *not* test at my boundaries instead of letting me have them. Separate issue.

I couldn't figure out what made her *like this*

She's expecting me to throw a giant meltdown violent tantrum at people when I have 'actually' had enough. Maybe she got away with those being like 5'4" in another time, but I am the size of the average man, I do not get to have giant screaming rages, whether or not people perceive me consciously as a woman, and least of all because a lot of people -at least unconsciously- read me as 'masculine' or at least always "they guy" of the situation compared to all other women and some men [bigger stronger and more rational, more able to just absorb the damage and let it go so the less rational screaming/crying one doesn't have to be dealt with]. Even if it was in me to be willing to terrify people [usually never], there are such limited instances where it wouldn't just blow back on me. Potentially very dangerously.

I am going to be the quiet calm one. You are going to have to let me use my words, bitch.

So she kept ignoring my boundaries until I had to cut her out of my life, and she probably doesn't understand and probably thinks it feels sudden -after 36 long years of bullshit- abrupt and unfair.

But I told her hundreds of times.

I probably should have just screamed at her.

[morverenmaybewrites]

Warning: this is gonna be a doozy (maybe). But how do you think Jason would react to having his face traced? Like just the very light ticklish tracing of features? Would he let you run your fingers over the brand? Would he let you kiss it??? It’s been on mind so much lately idkkkk

I think that Jason has a tendency to avoid everything that reminds him of his trauma, and the brand on his face is nothing if not a culmination of everything he suffered at the Joker's hands. As such, I don't think he'll ever be truly comfortable to let anyone deliberately touch his brand, even you. Some scars just run too deep for that. That said, Jason also has a (borderline self-destructive) tendency to put other's wants before his own. So if you ask to touch his scars, odds are, he'll let you. But he'll be stiff and uncomfortable the entire time, and will probably avoid you for the rest of the day after that.

[running-on-a-broken-record]

MadPat with Reader getting yelled at in the Pizzeria

Totally not based off my experiences with working at a pizzeria

Mad loves having you work with him. Even if it’s only part-time, every time you're at the pizzeria, he's in a noticeably better mood, and the other employees are grateful.

He sometimes just lingers around the area where you're stationed so he can watch you work.

He's in the kitchens, observing one of the new employees to make sure they're not messing up. It's his absolute least favorite part of owning the pizzeria, and he's definitely not pleased. All he wants is to go home and just spend time with you.

It's actually kind of surprising that he hears the commotion coming from the dining part of the pizzeria, because the kitchen is loud, but he does, and his attention is drawn to it.

He's mostly expecting it to be some child being scolded by its mother- god he hates those creatures- or some employee that dropped a pizza by accident.

But... he finds you, basically surrounded by three teenage boys.

They're yelling, and you're clearly not sure what to do, because your eyes dart between them and you're definitely scared.

"How hard is it to make a fucking pizza?" One of the kids, the one with the bad hair, yells directly at you.

He pulls you away from them quickly, now enraged that they would dare speak to you like that. It hurts him how you panic a little more at the feeling of being pulled away, but he hides you behind him, out of sight. You cling to him desperately.

"Is there a problem?" Mad says through gritted teeth, fighting each and every one of his demons to not murder the kids right there and then.

"We ordered a pizza ten minutes ago, where is it? It can't be that hard to make!"

"Did my employee warn you there would be a wait?"

"No!"

His eyes narrow. He's seen you work. You always let customers know about the wait for their food. So not only are these idiotic kids yelling at his best employee- his lover- but they've been ignoring you too. It's starting to look exponentially worse for them.

He wants to kick them out. The way you squeeze him a little tighter after the boy yells again only fuels that.

"Are we going to get our pizza or not?" Another one of the three teenagers says, frustrated for no reason at all, really.

He thinks for a second. "No. Get out."

"What?!" The teenagers all shout.

"You're banned from my pizzeria. Get. Out."

The boy with the bad hair scoffs. "Fine. Come on, guys."

The three boys and a fourth teen, a girl, leave. The girl, without the boys noticing, mouths an I'm sorry, and he nods slightly, turning to you to make sure you saw it too.

"Are you okay?" He asks as soon as they're gone, holding your shoulders.

You shaking from the encounter makes him furious, and once again he debates adding to the list of missing children in the pizzeria.

He doesn't even care when your shift ends, he's the owner of the place and he can do what he wants. He tells you to grab your stuff and clocks you out and takes you home.

He's literally so soft for the rest of the day, because seeing you being yelled at made him so angry and protective that he just wants to make sure you're okay :)

If you want to go back to work later that day, he'll probably let you, but he will keep a closer eye on you.