#I’m hoping it’s okay to post this!

[starswirly]

[ * Woe! Skeletons be upon ye! ]

[ * …is it really woe if I like skeletons??? ] [ * Anyhows! Skelesona, Inkoi, and Draconink (who is made by the astronomical @lazy-shapeshiofter!) ]

[ * Everyone’s favorite OG Ink is made by Comyet :] ]

[the-phantom-peach]

skyward sword… yeah <3

Crimson Loftwing

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

[twinstxrs]

idk if this is accurate but i’ve felt like in previous seasons riz & gorgug have been one of the inter-bad kids dynamics we’ve seen the least of & this season has been so great in that aspect. gorgug having helped make some of riz’s magic gear. riz helping gorgug with his studies. the shared birthday party. gorgug’s gift to riz being something he himself made to protect riz. riz’s gift to gorgug being something he illegally grabbed to protect gorgug. gorgug who utilizes rage to put his body on the line for his friends & riz who will take deep levels of mental stress for his friends. even though it was within the context of a joke, riz calling gorgug an “absolute sweetie.” like yea they might not be in a band together or both part of a presidential campaign team or owlbears teammates, but they’d go to war for each other, because they’re best friends.

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

2seokotonin (hyyh ver.) (cr. 0613data)

[starrcrossrose]

“This Is A Bad Idea”

“I Don’t Care”

Uhh HAPPY VALENTINES DAY *throws guys kissing at you and runs away*

If you wanna see more of them I have a LOT on my Patreon. Uhhhh yeah bYE —

[shepscapades]

He could not have said anything worse, actually.

Don’t touch me i might explode

[theloveinc]

bakugo x reader - you have a fussy baby

(warnings: ooc, you have a baby and are called mama. no mention of pregnancy. written in bed)

-

There’s a part of Bakugo that always gets a little bit nervous when you call. A growing fear, one that’s not always the most reasonable, as he’s long since learned to stop guessing what it is he’ll have to answer to.

Usually, his worry is assuaged immediately by the chirp of your sweet voice, more often than not calling to ask about groceries, or the timing of his arrival home, or even just to say, “hey, sweetie. How are you?”

But as of late, with the stress of multiple new realities on his hands, the playing catchup of his returning back to work, it’s been—

“Katsuki,” your voice trembles on the receiver, the fuss of your hands practically audible too, “thank god. I’m so sorry, but—“

You whimper, there’s a wail, and his gut clenches, veins turning cold as ice with adrenaline like any and every other time he prepares, quicker than you know, to catch a villain.

“Fuck, babe?” his voice is raspy with the crack of worry, his eyes flitting about as if the crime is in front of him, the offender just across the line of the dark, moon-lit horizon. “Are you okay? Are you safe—“

You interrupt.

“I just can’t get him to sleep. I-I’ve tried everything,” there’s a hiccup from somewhere close by, the baby on your shoulder most likely, “but he’s not going down. I don’t know what to do anymore. He’s clean, he’s changed, he ate almost everything I had—“

“Hey,” he says sternly, dad-like, in a way you’ve almost never heard from him, and you halt. Bakugo looks around the empty streets he’s walking, the evening sky of a warm spring having now receded into chill. “I’ll be there quick, okay?”

And just as soon, he calls Kirishima to let him know he’s deviating from the patrol route.

-

Your son relaxes in his arms almost as soon as you set him down. Still in uniform, a sheen of sweat and dirt coating his body, he must smell like something comforting to the little babe as he stops crying just as fast, smacking his little lips into the sweaty shirt he now lays on.

You part from them, letting Bakugo take charge, the anxious tears stopped but still streaked down your cheeks, illuminated where you finally allow yourself to sit on the handsome blue armchair by the crib.

“Fussy shit,” Bakugo complains quietly, tearing one little snort of a giggle out of you as you gaze upon the two of them and wipe your nose, and at the same time, he gazes down at the baby with your eyes. “Wanted to make your mama cry, huh?”

“I’m sorry,” you say, sinking down into soft plush, “I’m so sorry I panicked, made you come all this way for nothing.”

“Stop apologizing, baby. ‘S not nothing,” he replies. “You needed help, and that’s what I’m here for. I’m”—he almost says fuckin’ Dynamight, pausing to look at you when he changes his mind—“dad. I’m dad.”

You smile weakly, and he approaches, dipping down on one knee to let you give your finally sleeping baby one last goodnight kiss, your fingers gently curling his blonde bangs away from his forehead.

“Just needed your daddy, I guess. Right, little boy?”

Bakugo can’t help but smirk, pulling back carefully to gently put the baby in his crib. He whines as he goes down, stretching his little limbs out now that the swaddle has been discarded… and though he notices the way your fingers tighten into themselves in worry as you watch, he settles back into sleep almost immediately, barely a pause in between to confirm it.

In the new silence, you finally whisper. “You gotta go back? To work?”

“I’ll get Denki over here in an hour,” Bakugo nods, also whispering; the sound that comes out unfamiliarly quiet, but not all that unpleasant as he steps and turns back to you, one hand reaching out to smooth down the hairs on your neck. “He’ll let you rest. You got it til then, or should I wait with you?”

You wave him off, still seeming tired but already calm enough to turn on the night light and pick up the book you started way back when, maybe even before becoming a mom. “I’ll be okay.”

“Don’t be afraid to ask for help again though, mama,” he leans down to give you your goodnight kiss before he finally has to go, reminding you of all the trust he has for you, too. “We’re all here to help.”

[candyheartedchy]

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY ❤️

Original Screenshot and Edit!

[smokbeast]

(UPDATED) COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!

Hi hello hi! Commissions are open! if you are interested here is a google form below with all the info at hand about my commissions and workflow! If you have any questions my DMS are open to answer and talk it out, thank you so much, reblogs are extremely appreciated to spread the word as I would like this to be my main post for commissions from now on!

[flowercrowngods]

🤍🌷 @stevesbipanic and @the-winged-doe asked to see ugly unpolished unrefined words, soo—

cw & tags: past major character death, grief, attempted time-travel fix-it(s), eddie&robin besties || potential wip

Eddie takes a long drag of his cigarette, the biting hot smoke hitting the back of his throat and clawing its way into his lungs, going as deep as he allows and leaving a permanent mark that brings neither relief nor calmness tonight. His fingers shake where they’re pressed to his lips, but the rest of him is unmoving where he sits on the front porch of their new trailer. 

It’s quiet out here. It’s always quiet in Hawkins these days, the city a fucking ghosttown. 

And he knows it’s not because of the one they lost. He knows it’s not because of him. But still the emptiness is stark and the silence oppressivem more so than it ever has been. 

Everyone still looks for him, months later. Dustin still begins to speak, cutting himself off mid-sentence, and Robin still stands with enough space to either side, like she expects him to just show up and invade her space like the home he made for himself in there. 

And somewhere among all that is Eddie. With his very own history. Or, non-history, as it turns out. But history and non-history leave wounds alike, and the memories feel just as real. A small mercy, at the end of the day, for them to feel real when they’re all he has left anymore. 

He takes another drag, not quite exhaling before he obliterates the cigarette and fishes for a new one before the butt even hits the ground. 

Fumbling with the lighter in his pocket, he only gets as far as placing the butt between his lips before a hand snakes into his field of vision to snag it from his mouth. 

“Hey,” he complains halfheartedly but makes no attempt at getting it back, watching instead as Robin comes up to sit beside him, grimacing at the stink of tobacco that must be heavy around him. 

“You’re disgusting,” she says with no real heat behind her words.

Eddie shrugs, because yeah, sure. He’s been called worse things. Robin’s called him worse things. This is her being nice. Her complaininig about his incessant smoking is nothing new. What is new is what she does next, placing the cigarette between her own lips and reaching for the light he’s been holding in a loose grip since she arrived. 

She starts coughing immediately, pulling a face at the disgusting feeling of smoke in her lungs and tobacco on her tongue. But she keeps going. Eddie can only watch in surprise and mild horror. 

“These things’ll kill you,” he says then in an echo of her usual sentiment, aware that he sounds as bewildered as he feels. 

“Well,” Robin says, aiming for casual, but quickly interrupted by a wheeze and a cough that’s almost adorable. “Let them try.” 

Eddie huffs, a pale little smile lingering on his lips as he leans back against the stairs behind him, resting his weight on his forearm to watch her. There is something captivating about her. Eddie always wonders what it is, wants to study her forever. 

Maybe it’s only the lingering traces of Everything Steve Harrington that clings to her every breath, her every move, her every fucking cell, with how much he was a part of her and she of him. Maybe it’s their shared grief that has made Eddie fall a bit in love with her and with the way the moonlight catches in her hair and in the smoke wafting from her cigarette. 

But somehow he refuses to believe that all he loves about her is merely the memory of Steve. 

Robin, in turn, is kind enough to let him stare. Kind enough to let him find out what it is between them. If this friendship is more than a misguided projection of grief and mourning and trauma; more than co-dependence and the obsessive will to keep this one person in your life. This one person who understands. 

After a while of Robin just holding the cigarette between her fingers, becuase no matter how strong her will to self destruct, she never quite got it right with the smoking, Eddie snatches it back before it goes to waste completely. As if pulled in by a string attached to his hollowed out chest, Robin leans back and into him in one smooth motion. It’s too calculated, though, and Eddie can feel how much she sags once she doesn’t have to hold herself up anymore. 

He’ll hold her. It’s fine. She gets to rest if she wants to. God knows she needs it. 

The night is warm for mid-September, but still Robin shakes against him. Eddie holds her closer. 

Silence settles over them, and it’s not an easy one. Silence is never easy anymore, especially with them. He feels so deeply hollow that even the silence echoes in there, creating an ever-present, uncomfortable thrumming of apprehension and anxiety within him. A certain sense of doom, one that can’t quite decide if it’s only an echo itself. 

“I wanna stop time,” Robin says at last, the cigarette long dead between Eddie’s fingers, but he somehow can’t bring himself to flick it away. “I don’t want tomorrow.” 

I don’t ever want a new day. I don’t ever want another tomorrow. I just want Steve. 

They ring in his head still, another echo that only hollows him out further every time it reaches him — Robin, overcome with hysterical grief, screaming and crying, curled up on that hospital floor, her cries quieting down and making Eddie wish she would be loud again, because the quiet was what killed him. The quiet, the whispered words, the declarations that tomorrow could go fuck itself if it came without Steve made him wish, irrationally, desperately, that their roles were reversed. That he could have died and Steve could have lived, and Robin would never have to wish tomorrow never came. 

He’s not entirely sure if she remembers the words, too. If she even said them in this world. 

So he takes a deep breath, breathes away memories and non-histories, feels the heavy weight of his guitar pick hanging around his neck, resting on the scarred flesh of his chest, and tries not to think of the one string left on his acoustic guitar. Tries not to think of his one last attempt. One last try. 

“I know,” he tells her. “Me neither.” 

He peers over her head, lifting his left wrist to check his watch. Ten minutes until midnight. Ten minutes until Steve’s birthday. 

“It’s not tomorrow yet,” he tries lamely, and Robin huffs — the sound wet and bitter and hopeless, making Eddie’s eyes sting. 

“It’s always fucking tomorrow,” she rasps, her voice flat and wavering, and Eddie knows her well enough to know she’s about to cry. And she knows him well enough to do it. 

“I know,” he says again, and reaches for his necklace through his shirt. One more attempt. One more try. One more chance. His eyes burn. 

She turns to him after taking a moment to compose herself, peering up at him through her lashes. 

“Tell me again?” 

His heart falls, the tense apprehension vanishing from the air, bur quickly replaced by something a lot more heavy. Something that looks and smells and feels like grief. 

They both know he’ll do anything she asks. He can’t really bear saying not to her. And not about this, anyway — she’s the only one who knows. 

She’s the one who should have had the chance. 

“Which part?” he asks, holding a new cigarette out for her to light it. She does, and the both follow the flame of the lighter Robin always keeps in her pocket these days. 

She leans forward and takes a drag. Eddie lets her. 

“All of them.“

Eddie sighs, pain welling up inside him, and he closes his eyes against the night sky. “Robbie,” he pleads, but he doesn’t finish his plea. He’ll do it. He’ll do anything she asks. 

But before he starts recounting the tales of how he almost saved Steve Harrington, he finds himself saying something he never thought he’d tell her. 

“There’s one more.” The words hang in the air, and Robin doesn’t react. Has no idea what’s coming; what he’s about to tell her. The guitar pick is heavy on the necklace around his throat. “There’s one more try. One more chance. I’m… I have one more—“ 

He can’t even finish the sentence. Can’t bring himself to say it, lest it all be jinxed forever. He doesn’t want to hope. Wants to carry this weight for all eternity and never think about all those times he failed to save someone he was never meant to save at all. People like Eddie, they’re not made to save anyone. Hell, they can’t even save themselves. 

Steve was supposed to be the one doing the saving. 

And he did. God, he fucking did. But he was never supposed to— 

Cold fingers wrap around his own as Robin fits their hands together. 

“I hate you a little bit for telling me.” 

Eddie nods, trying to focus on the cold hand and the nicotine in his lungs, trying not to let panic and grief and guilt and the heavy weight of one more chance win. “I know.” 

“Hey, Eddie?” Robin says after a while, the silence stretching on, and it’s almost midnight now. “Can you— Would you do something for me?” 

He turns his head, flicking the butt of his cigarette out into the darkness beyond them. “What’s that?” 

“Don’t— Don’t try to, to save him. Don’t— Just… Just maybe, could you celebrate his birthday with him? Make sure he knows he’s… God, make sure he knows he’s loved? Last year, no one really made time on his birthday and we just moved it backwards but God, could you— It’s almost midnight, and—“ 

“Robbie,” Eddie interrupts her, his voice hoarse and wavering, his eyes burning with tears as he tugs her close and holds her to his chest. “You should go. Don’t you wanna…” 

But she’s shaking her head against him with a vehemence that can hardly be misunderstood. 

“No,” she cries, and it’s more of a sob than anything. “I think if I ever saw him again, I’d… I don’t know what I’d do. Burn the whole fucking world to the ground for him or some shit, I can’t— I’d probably just cry all the time and that wouldn’t be helpful, really.” There’s a weak, wet laugh that bubbles out of both of them, and Eddie’s wiping at Robin’s face, drying the tears and making way for new ones to fall. 

“I’d light a fire for you,” Eddie says, the same weak smile on his lips that Robin meets him with now. “Nineteen fucking fires, you hear me?” 

She laughs again, then buries her face in his neck in a way that never quite fit. In a way that Eddie always knew was supposed to be someone else’s neck. 

But he’s not here anymore. And Eddie can’t get him back. No matter how much he aches for it, no matter how much he learned over and over and over again how easy it is to love Steve Harrington and how hard, how fucking impossible it is to lose him. Over and over and over again. 

And to live without him. This one fucking time they all get. It’s not fair. 

And now Robin is asking him to go back one more time and make sure that Steve knows— That he knows. 

Somehow the thought of that feels nobler than any attempt to save him, to bring him back; to rewrite history from a lonely boy’s perspective and hope that no one else is reading along. 

It feels right, too. Fundamentally and suddenly, and with such an intensity that Eddie knows the decision has been made the second he started telling her. 

Still he hesitates. Robin’s sobs have calmed down, and Eddie’s hand finds its way into her hair. 

“Do you really mean it?” 

She nods.

He nods, too, but slower. Like he’s trying to sway himself. Which way, he doesn’t know. 

“Make him happy.” 

“Okay,” he decides after a while, feeling hollow and desperate, but feeling purpose burning underneath his skin again. “One last time.” 

He unwinds his arms from around her and heads inside to grab his acoustic guitar. The last remaining string, badly untuned because he never dared to touch it, stares back at him in both mockery and invitation. A dare. A chance. A promise. 

Outside, Robin is waiting for him, looking anxious. Eddie wants to hug her. He doesn’t, only tightens his grip around the guitar’s neck. 

“Listen, Eddie, if this is goodbye or something—“ 

“It’s a birthday party, Robsie,” he interrupts her, aiming for light, aiming for brave. “I’m coming back right here.” 

“I know,” she rushes to say, taking a step toward him and wringing her hands. It’s endearing. It’s genuine. Eddie really is a little in love with her. “But, y’know, you don’t mess with time, and I don’t know what all you already changed before and I don’t wanna know but… If this is goodbye, if something happens, I just wanna tell you that I’m gonna miss you. And that I think you’re really cool. And that Steve’s— he’s really missing out, okay. Okay?” 

Eddie breathes, taking in her words and letting them soak into his body, his every last fibre. 

“Okay,” he smiles. “Thank you. You’re… I’m kind of in love with you, Robin Buckley. So there had better be no change in the universe, ‘cause that would really suck.” 

They smile at each other, Eddie with his guitar and Robin with her lighter, and somehow this feels like a deja-vu. The antithesis to a moment forever burned into his memory.

Make him pay. 

Make him happy. 

Eddie tugs on his necklace and plays the string before he can think about it too hard; before he can decide otherwise. 

Distantly, he hears the church bells announcing midnight as the world around him fades. 

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @cryptic-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 @devondespresso @bookworm0690 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

[dumb-doll-lips]

Maybe controversial, but on posts about being dumb where girls are like saying ‘but I’m actually smart.’ Like tbh, I don’t really believe them. Like if you’re smart why does feeling dumb feel so good or hot or whatever to you then? I kinda feel like it’s having an excuse to let go of trying as much as you would be when you’re saying your smart. If you’re like really actually smart, I don’t feel like a break from ‘being smart’ would be such a relief or like as appealing.

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ 𝙶𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙, 𝚋𝚛𝚘! ~

💜🐢🧡 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @savemeafruitjuice💜🐢🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝚘𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚕𝚎…𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝…𝚘𝚑 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕. 𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜, 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚎!!!˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟺𝟼𝟸

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚗…𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕), 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚠 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛.

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚃*𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝙳𝙽𝙸. 𝙱𝚞𝚑-𝚋𝚢𝚎. 𝙰𝚍𝚒𝚘𝚜. 𝚂𝚊𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚊. 𝙵𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕…)

𝙾𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚐𝚜𝚜𝚜𝚜: @tiggleebug @what-youd-expect @veryblushyswitch @someone1348 @titters-and-tingles

@odder-outlet @itzsana-kiddingmenow @kanene-yaaay @turtletimewriting @mysteriouslee

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐…𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 😖. 𝚂𝚘, 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚙𝚕𝚣 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 💞✨‼️

𝙰𝙻𝚂𝙾 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙻𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙼𝙽𝚃 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟸 𝚂𝟸 𝙸𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴𝙽’𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷𝙴𝙳 𝙸𝚃‼️‼️‼️

𝚃𝚆: 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜/𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

It was currently 2:00 in the morning. And the only things keeping Donatello Hamato alive at the moment were cans of Red Bull, Dr. Pepper and a slice of pizza. And by ‘slice’, he means the entire box.

Which…the more and more Donnie thought about it, that was a hell of a combination to consume for the rest of the night. Also super duper concerning. But it kept him 101% awake, so he couldn’t really complain all that much.

But why was the young scientist staying up so late you may ask? The second youngest was currently working on the de-mutagen mutagen to un-mutagize Mr. O’Neil (try saying that 10 times fast). The tallest turtle has been engrossed in the project for weeks; his eyes have been stuck to his computer as if someone glued them there.

But…why would Mr. O’Neil need ‘de-mutagen mutagen?’ Well…you, my friend, ask the good questions at the wrong time. You see, Donatello and his brothers kinda…maybe…accidentally…spilled mutagen on April’s Dad…

Accidentally! Accidentally. It wasn’t really as bad as it sounded. I mean, how would you react if you saw your Dad turn into a mutant and start flying all over New York? Pretty cool, right?

…Alright. Maybe it was as bad as it sounded.

Turning April’s Dad into a bat…creature-like…thing wasn’t a part of the plan in all honesty. Which was why the tallest turtle of the four was so stubborn on getting this freaking blob of green slime disgustingness finished.

I mean…it was him and his brother’s fault that the scientist got mutated in the first place. And as well as Donnie knows, that’s April’s only family she has as of right now. And that just makes this whole mutation situation (<- hey that rhymes) even worse.

Donnie knows all too well what it’s like for a family member to go missing out of his control. I mean, have you met him? Or literally anyone in his household? It wasn’t out of the ordinary that they would (or could) get kidnapped, captured, or held hostage from time to time.

I mean, the sky’s blue. The grass is green. They get taken from away each other on a daily basis. Duh.

…Anyways; steering away from that sad but true fact, Donnie’s family was, well, his family at the end of the day. His comfort.

And so to just…take that comfort outlet April once had and not do anything about it seemed…inhuman.

I mean, he wasn’t human…not human in the slightest, really. But you get his point.

Huh. And…speaking of family, if Leo was in the second youngest’s room right now, the young leader would’ve said some statements along the lines of: ‘Donnie! Sit up! Your backs built like a shrimp!’ or ‘Don! Stop typing and sit up straight before your back looks like a crooked tree!’

And in all honesty? He should probably fix his posture. But Leo reminding him every millisecond of the day makes him not want to…

Besides, it’s not like he was using the computer for shits and giggles. He was using it because he needed to use it. Because he had to use it.

I mean, the more and more he thought about it, wasn’t it really his fault in the first place? He was the genius. He was the scientist. He was supposed to know the answer to every. single. problem.

Even if the problem was…well, himself.

But what could he even do at this point??? April cut all contacts with him, Mr. O’Neil could be who knows where, and Donnie just ran out of pizza!

Triple. kill!

Well…perhaps using that kind of phrasing isn’t appropriate at the moment, but your picking up what’s he’s putting down, right?

…oh God, he’s starting to sound like Leo…that’s how tired he was.

The scientist groaned, resting his head on the table and rubbing his arm in irritation.

My gosh did he miss sleep.

Even if he got, like, 3 hours on a daily basis…it was 3 hours of sleep! Which is something he rarely got anymore since everything has happened.

He rubbed his arm a tad bit harder, glaring at his computer screen as if it was the most disgusting thing to ever make way on this planet.

And that’s saying a lot. I mean, have you met Raph?

The purple banded turtle sighed in pure annoyance, tapping his other finger on the desk in a repetitive motion.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

At least this he can do without screwing it up. Like he’s done with absolutely everything.

Donnie tapped faster.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

“You look like absolute sugar honey iced tea, broski.” Donnie jumped at the sudden voice, stumbling out of the spinny chair he was sitting on as he grabbed his bō staff which was planted on the floor. He drawed the staff, only to find his baby brother with his hands slightly up in a surrendering position.

“Oh. Hi, Mikey…” The taller turtle relaxed, dropping his staff in complete exhaustion and sinking into his chair like he wasn’t about to chop the other into pieces.

God, did he want sleep...

“Why are you up so early, Dee? It’s, like, 3 a.m. now…” The youngest turtle asked as he walked over to his older brother, pulling up another spinny chair as he sat next to him.

“Late. Why am I up so late. Morning technically starts after midnight. However, 3 a.m. is way too early to be considered part of the daytime. For most of the world, it is still dark outside at this time. And so, 3 a.m. is considered night.” The purple banded turtle rambled. Mikey blinked in confusion at his brother’s rebuttal, rolling his eyes playfully, “Nerd emoji…”

Donnie didn’t even counter the remark. He wanted to, obviously. Sibling bickering is a thing, y’know.

But he had to finish this cure even if it killed him. And how the way things were going, he would have to be revived 14-15 times in order to complete it.

Mikey looked at his older brother worriedly, seeing how focused and entranced he was on the computer. And usually? That would’ve been an amazing thing. Like Mikey here, Donnie would tend to hyperfixate on certain things and spend hours upon hours researching and de-coding and…

Well, you get the idea.

But ever since April stopped talking to them completely, Donnie’s been so…prone to figuring out a way to cure her Dad.

If there even was one…

And the youngest couldn’t even remember the last time he saw his immediate older brother in a bed. Sleeping. And that made the youngest worry. Worry beyond repair. And if you didn’t already know, he doesn’t do worry. That’s Master Splinter’s job…if you weren’t able to tell by all the grey/gray hairs.

“You're doing the tappy-tap thing; you only do that when you're nervous or stressed about something...” Mikey randomly said out loud.

Well…not entirely randomly.

Anytime the second oldest would do that, he would usually end up moving his hand down to tap onto his thigh, and then the light feeling would be overwhelming for him and so he would start scratching…

It was a domino effect that Mikey really didn’t want to go down if he didn’t have to.

The taller teen looked down at his left hand and…sure enough, yep. He was rubbing and scratching and tapping his arm like some crazy crack addict. He adjusted them so they were in his lap, trying not to fidget with any part of his body but soon started bouncing his right leg. “Sorry…” He mumbled.

“Wha-? No…you don’t need to apologize. I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself, Dee. That’s the only reason why I pointed it out.” Mikey rambled comfortingly, frowning a little bit as he saw Donnie’s face in a scowl. The elder’s hands tapped on the desk again, his nails gripping onto the table as he did so.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Mikey glanced at his brother sadly. He’s never seen Donnie this upset before…and that made Mikey worry. And again, Mikey didn’t do worry.

The blue eyed teen went into his pajama pants pockets and grabbed a rubix cube. He honestly completely forgot he had it in there and just happened to remember in this exact moment, but perhaps it was a good thing he forgot.

Because it was obvious his big brother needed it right now.

Mikey gave the other the cube, which he gladly accepted. The taller turtle frustratingly solved the cube…not because solving the cube was frustrating, but because he was frustrated with himself.

“You…wanna talk about it…?” The youngest asked gently. “No…no not really…” The older said as he looked at his computer blankly, solving the cube.

My gosh he needed sleep. And he knew he said that a couple times already but being tired was starting to get…well, tiring!

And you know what the worst part of all of this was?

He did the best he could.

The best he could muster wasn’t enough but at least he tried. Saving the world every day and night sometimes didn’t always go as planned.

But was that good enough? No. Of course it wasn’t. But at least he tried. He always tries. There hasn’t been one mission he hasn’t at least tried to do his part.

It's just kinda hard when you’re a 5'8 mutant turtle that the whole world is afraid of and yet you save their asses each and every day.

The irony…

And on top of it all, he hasn’t been making a smidge of process.

The mutagen still looks the exact same as it did a week ago. And the week before that. And the weeks and weeks and weeks before that…

“Dee…” Mikey started, looking at his older brother with sad, pleading eyes. “No. Stop. Don’t look at me like that.” Donnie scowled, “I’m not in the mood to be pitied.” Mikey returned the cold stare slightly, crossing his arms loosely, “Well, you should be in the mood to sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Like hell you’re not.” The smaller turtle laughed bitterly, although nothing at the matter was truly ‘haha’ funny. More so ‘what the actual fuck— go to bed’ funny. “Your eyebags literally have a whole story arc right now. A plot and everything. You can’t tell me your not even a smidge sleepy.”

“That’s hilarious. It’s almost like I just did.” Donnie spat, glaring at the rubix cube as he continued to solve it.

The freckle faced turtle sighed, “Just…look. Listen to me for a sec, okay?” Donnie solved the cube, putting it on the table as Mikey held his hand.

“I know that your work is important to you. And I know you feel responsible for Mr. O’Neil’s mutation.” He started, squeezing Donnie’s hands comfortingly, which caused the elder’s hands to untense a bit, relaxing in the other’s hold. The smaller turtle smiled at the small but impactful motion.

He started up again, “We all do. But we’re not gonna get any step closer to figuring out the cure if our #1 scientist bro keeps working himself to death...”

“And by the looks of it? You’re 50% there…” The younger said as he let go of the other’s hand, getting a better look at his face. “How would you feel if I stayed up working on this all week? Wouldn’t you be worried?”

“You’re not smart enough for that.” Donnie mumbled, a small smug smile on his face.

Mikey gave his brother a playful punch to the shoulder, rolling his eyes playfully as his older brother laughed, tears welling up in his eyes. The blue eyed teen’s eyes widened in surprise, looking up at him.

“Are those…happy or sad tears…?” Mikey asked. “Probably both.” Donnie snickered, wiping away his tears, “Sorry. You know how emotional I get when I’m tired…”

The smaller teen hummed in acknowledgement, resting his head on the taller teen’s shoulder. “How about this: I’ll stay with you in you’re lab to help you go to sleep.” He offered, a small reassuring smile on his face as he looked up at Donnie once again.

“Okay…but what do I get in return?”

“A good night sleep.” The younger deadpanned.

“Touché…” Donnie hummed, now too tired and too emotionally drained to argue at this point. He yawned, standing up from the chair as the action was soon being followed by the other turtle in the room.

“Do not kick me while we’re lying down, got it?”

“Nooooo promises, bro-bro…”

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Okay…I feel utterly ridiculous.” Donnie mumbled as he crossed his arms in Mikey’s hold. Since Donnie couldn’t sleep, the youngest thought it would be a great idea to give him a hug just like their Dad did when they were turtle tots. Which, was to basically hug them from behind while the turtle being hugged was lying down slightly.

It helped them sleep on hard nights…and it seemed like Donnie was having a hard night.

“Don’t be. It’s alright.” The youngest smiled reassuringly, giving his brother another tight squeeze. “Dad did it exactly like this! You’ll fall asleep in no time!”

“Well, Dad’s a 6'2 mutant, Mike. You’re 4'6 while I’m 5'7. This hug is nothing but just pure awkwardness...”

“I’m 4'10!” The smaller mutant corrected, obviously offended by the false statement.

“Then I’m 6 feet tall.” Donnie chuckled.

“Okay, Mr. Wise Guy! Do you want this hug or not?!”

The elder chuckled, making no further comments as Mikey hugged him. The two sat in comfortable silence, enjoying each other’s company as the quietness overtook the room.

“I’m…sorry for being such a dick earlier…” Donnie murmured sadly, “I wasn’t being bitchy on purpose…I was just…” He paused, trying to figure out what he was going to say before suddenly losing the train of thought. “Stop thinking so hard. You’re gonna hurt your big brain.” Mikey pouted, poking Donnie in the cheek a couple times.

“And don’t worry about it. I didn’t take it personally. You were really agitated and tired so you had to let your Alpha male come out. No shame in that.”

“Still. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. So I’m sorry.” Donnie simply mumbled, before blinking in confusion a couple of times, “Wait. Did…Did you just call me an…Alpha male?”

“I sure did.” Mikey beamed proudly.

“Ugh…I hate you so freaking much, y'know that?”

“Suuuure you do. I’m the Alpha, I’m the leader, I’m the one to trust…” The youngest started to sing, rocking himself and Donnie side to side as the eldest tried to get out of the hug. “Ihi rehefuse to get comforted by ahan individual thahat knows thahat atrohocity by heart.” He snickered.

“Oh come on! I think I’m a pretty good singer!” The purple banded turtle only rolled his eyes at the comment, scoffing lightly, “Meehee and yohou hahave different definitions ohof thehehe word good…”

“Fine then! I’m a great singer!” Mikey challenged.

“Lihihike hell yohou are, yohohou bihig oaf.”

“I’m shorter than you, Einstein!”

“Doesn’t mehean your nohohot bihig…” Donnie mumbled giggly but smugly.

The youngest glared, jabbing Donnie in the side, causing the russet eyed turtle to shriek loudly in surprise. Mikey giggled, poking Donnie in the sides repeatedly. “The Boo scream from Monster’s Inc goes crazy, bro.”

“M—Mihihichael!”

“That’s my name~! What’s up? You need something?” The orange banded turtle asked teasingly, peering down at his brother who was now squirming uncontrollably.

“No? Well okay then…” The youngest mused as he continued to wreck his brother. “W—Wahait! Wahait! Ihihi’m gohonna wahahake eheveryone uhuhup!” Donnie squealed, leaning against his little brother’s chest as he squirmed in the hold.

“Then stop laughing then.” The younger one huffed, smiling even more as Donnie’s blush increased in volume and size. “Buhut you’re tihihickling me!”

“I think that sounds like a you problem, dear brother of mine. Maybe you should try being less ticklish and it wouldn’t happen to you!”

Donnie’s giggles became more frantic, turning his face to hide in Mikey’s side. The younger smiled at the shy gesture, ceasing his tickling for a moment.

“I promise I’ll stop when you want me to, okay?” Mikey said with a soft smile on his face; which, was nice and all but at the same time why did he have to be so nice about it???

Donnie nodded embarrassed, preparing himself physically and mentally. “Oh! And thanks for opening this spot for me, Dee.” The smaller mutant giggled as he scribbled his fingers against the crook of Donnie’s neck, which made the taller turtle flail around and try to hit him. “Hehey! Hey! That's not very nice!”

He pulled one of Donnie’s arms up and wiggled his fingers directly in his underarm. “NAHA— *hic* NOHOH!” The older cackled as he desperately tried to pull his arm back down as he hid his face deeper in Mikey’s side. The blue eyed mutant awed teasingly at the sight, chuckling to himself as his big brother laughed his heart out.

“NAHAT *hic* THEHERE! PLEHEASE!” 

“Nahat thehere?” Mikey faked gasped, “What about…right here~?” He giggled, squeezing right above the other turtle’s hip bone. Donnie kicked and squirmed as more hiccups followed.

“Awh…is my big brother tickwish~?” Mikey said as he buried his face into the crook of Donnie’s neck, giggling as the older’s cackles began to increase in volume at the teases. “ShuhuHUT yohOUR’E *hic* TRAHAP!” The purple banded turtle shrieked, trying to push at his baby brother’s face to try and stop him.  

“You’re hiccups are adorable, big bro~!” Mikey cooed, now noticing how red Donnie’s face have gotten due to all the laughing and teasing. Mikey stopped tickling Donnie but his face still remained in the crook of his neck, smiling at the giggly mess he made of his older brother. Donnie glared while laughing, pushing on his baby brother’s face.

“StaHAP!!! Stohop…”

“I’m not even doing anything!” The other laughed as he hugged Donnie, rocking him back and forth again.

“Lihiterallty dihihie…” Donnie giggly grumbled, trying to wipe off the grin happy smile his brother plasteed on his face. “Yohohou’re. the. absolute wohorst…” He giggled tiredly, curling in on himself as he swatted his baby brother away from him. 

“Now…do you wanna go to bed or should we…” The orange banded turtle trailed off of his sentence, looking down to his elder brother whom’s eyes started to droop.

“Pff. 'Night, Dee.”

“Mhm…”

Donnie relaxed in Mikey’s hold, which made the younger one’s eyes soften greatly. He pulled out his phone, taking a picture quickly and going into the family’s group chat:

👁💀👺💥Teenagers who are Mutants who are Ninja’s who are also Turtle’s🍕🌝🧫👼

Yo 😼😼😼

Mikey???

What are you doing up so early?

>:3

Ur lucky Don isn’t online here Leo

He would go on a full on RANT abt the ‘late’ and ‘early’ bs

I’m aware…

So what’s up, Mikey? You okay?

Yeah💕💥!!! I’m fine!!!

Just wanted to tell you guys that I’m in Don’s room catching some ax’s ✨✨✨

WJAT??

BAHAH EXCUSE ME

CAN I JOIN

NONO STUPID AUTOCORRXT

Z’S I MEANT Z’S. AS IN SLEEP

S L E E P I N G

LIKE SNOK MIMIMI TYPE STUFF

Jesus…

Mikey. Never do that again.

IT WASNT WVEN MY FAULTT

SO DOES THAT MWAN NO AXES???

SHUT UP, RAPHAEL

🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕!!!

Oh grow up, Raph

Yeaaaaah Raaaaaaph, grow up 🙄🙄🙄

🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕‼️‼️‼️

Anyway 😾

I came into his room bc he was working on the mutagen thing

Oh…

Poor Don.

He’s been working on that thing for ages

Thanks for doing that, Mikey.

I’m sure he appreciates it.

He better

My shell hurts from supporting his big ass

DAMN

Just go to bed, Mikey— b4 Leo kills the both of us

Love ya bro

See u when u and Don wake up

Love you guys too 💝💘💖💗💓

Mikey smiled as he turned off his phone, putting it on Donnie’s nightstand as he relaxed against the bed frame. He rubbed his brother’s shell comfortingly, humming a small tune softly.

“Hey, Mike?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for this. I…didn’t know how much I needed it…thank you. I love you.”

Mikey smiled brightly, squeezing Donnie a tad bit tigther, “Love you too, Don. Now go to sleep before you become more wrinkly than you already are.”

“Oh, fuck you…” Donnie chuckled, drifting off to sleep along with his little brother.

Things weren’t perfect. I mean, they never will be. They never would be.

But being apart of a team means your never alone.

And being apart of a family means you’re never alone.

And as long as Donnie had his…he’d be quite alright.

He can finish the mutagen later…as of right now, he needed to go the fuck. to. bed.

And thanks to Mikey, he can finally do that.

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

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

[aquared]

i finally finished them here are my mc kids in theri golf tier ouitfits

the original sprites that everyone and their mother has seen jesus christ thanks for over 700 notes on that btw /gen

ok now look at the new ones

[zukkababey]

i’m rewatching atla season 2 for ✨reasons✨ and i just got to 2x09 ‘bitter work’ and all i can think about is “they stuck that boy in a hole for 22 minutes”

[i-may-be-an-emu]

Some of my favourite out of context sfth ao3 tags because these are so funny (also all of these are from different fics)

Disclaimer that these aren’t mine :)

[daffi-990]

Seven(ish) Sentence Sunday ✍️

Tagged by @diazsdimples @giddyupbuck and @wikiangela. Thank you lovelies mwah 😘

Have a little something from LA Lonely -> this is after the fun and orgasms of Buck and Eddie’s hook up. Still don’t know if I’m going to go full spice 🌶️ or just do a quick little run down of things.

Prev snippet & mood board here

Buck expects him to start pulling his clothes on and to give him the whole “this was fun, but I gotta bounce” speel, but Eddie surprises him by climbing back into bed and nudging Buck to roll onto his side so Eddie can scoot up behind him and hold him.

Buck freezes for a moment because no one does this. They have their fun and then they leave. They don’t stay and they definitely don’t cuddle.

Eddie must feel him go tense because his hold loosens and he moves as if he’s about to pull away. “Is this okay?”

Buck grabs at the arms that are wrapped around him, stopping Eddie’s descent. “Y-yeah. It’s-it’s okay.” He pulls at Eddie’s arms and the man settles back behind him, burrowing his face into the juncture where Buck’s neck meets his shoulder as he shuffles closer.

Soft kisses are pressed into his skin and Buck is helpless but to relax back into Eddie, letting the comfort and warmth of whatever is happening wrap around him.

“Stay?” He whispers, not sure if Eddie can hear him but not being brave enough to say it any louder. He feels like he’s asking too much.

A kiss behind his ear. “Okay.”

No pressure tagging: @hippolotamus @puppyboybuckley @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks @devirnis @wikiangela @hoodie-buck @honestlydarkprincess @homerforsure @monsterrae1 @missmagooglie @mellaithwen @nmcggg @lover-of-mine @ladydorian05 @loserdiaz @bekkachaos @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @weewootruck @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @rewritetheending @rainbow-nerdss @captain-hen @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @glorious-spoon @fortheloveofbuddie @fiona-fififi @disasterbuckdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @try-set-me-on-fire @theotherbuckley @steadfastsaturnsrings @tizniz @athenagranted @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @spagheddiediaz @sunshinediaz and as always, anyone else who wants to share something -> consider this your tag ☺️