#i feel like i need to start writing these down idk

[seongminiz]

proving a point (and kind of failing) – p.sh

. . ? sunghoon gets handcuffed (hell yeah) – smut / minors dni ; 828 words

cw handcuffs , afab reader , handjob , orgasm denial , unprotected sex , a lil bit of dumbification

🗯️ yk the drill , this isnt proof read – it wasn't even supposed to be this long but my pretentious ass got poetic n ended up writing more than expected .. n then i got bored n sleepy so it became kind of ass idk honestly .. not proud of this one but i'll live i need to allow myself to be a mediocre writer bc at the end of the day its not that deep

handcuffing sunghoon to the bed's headrest , restraining him n saying for once you are going to be in charge ,, when really , you both know sunghoon is merely granting you the illusion of power , for his own amusement , his eyes following your every action waiting for the moment you'll cave in n admit defeat , letting him take control again .

it's all a game to sunghoon , n maybe to you too – but it's also a matter of proving yourself .

you straddle sunghoon's hips , stubbornly ignoring his sweet , sweet voice as he plays his part , pleading for you to hurry up and touch him already in a whiny tone that feels almost mocking.

'shut up,' you retort as you drag sunghoon's boxers down his legs , leaving them around his knees without much care . sunghoon is right, in a way : you do have to hurry up , not dwell for too long on the details, take what you want without giving it more than half a thought to not let your resolve crumble and let him take control again .

sunghoon bites back a whine as your fingers wrap around his dick. for a second – it feels like an eternity to him – you just stay there , running your fingertips along the circumference of his cock, tracing its details as if you need to map it out, as if your body, your insides haven't already memorized its every single millimeter , to exhaustion.

'i told you to hurry,' sunghoon lifts his hips, searching for more friction that you don't grant him as you retract your hand with a smirk.

'and i,' you actually wrap your hand around sunghoon's cock now, giving it the smallest squeeze before pumping it once. 'told you to shut up.'

you don't know how your voice doesn't shake , how you manage to meet sunghoon's eyes as you start to slowly , painfully drag your hand up and down his length , to hold his gaze when you pick up the pace and he finally – or at least , for a moment – gives in , tilting his head back and letting you take your time with him .

it's not long before sunghoon feels the incipit of an orgasm building up in him . in his defense , he's been rock hard ever since he got in this predicament, if not before you even told him you wanted to take charge for the night . sunghoon just thinks you're the hottest person to ever walk earth, and anything you do could get him bricked up without you even trying to.

just as sunghoon is about to voice just how close he is , your touch disappears again , a satisfied smile creeping on your face when you hear him groan in disappointment.

'you just have to be a little patient,' you reassure him , your nails lightly scraping the inside of his thighs.

you lift your hips slightly and push your panties to the side , you grind down on sunghoon's cock and let your wetness coat it , your legs shaking when his tip bumps into your clit before you finally align it to your entrance and let yourself sink down on him slowly .

so agonizingly slow sunghoon genuinely feels like he's about to go insane . he uselessly pulls at his restraints , the urge to hold you , grab your hips and pull you down onto his cock all at once almost unbearable as he feels you take him centimeter by centimeter , clenching around him .

you hold back your own moans , trying so hard to mantain the dominant role you've taken up , despite how feeling so full , so close to sunghoon is enough to reduce your brain to mush .

'sunghoon' you call out , bracing yourself on his toned stomach so you can lift yourself up just to immediately slam down – it's too fast , and slightly painful , but you need it , immediately missing the fullness when you raise your hips .

'what is it, baby?' there it is . that tone , the condescension that had been barely shining thigh his words earlier , now clear as day even in your fogged up brain .

your frown, grinding your hips as you try to form a coherent thought. 'it's...' you don't manage to finish the sentence, half trailing off , half interrupted by sunghoon bucking his hips up to distract you . this motherfucker .

sunghoon is now shooting you a smug smile , a raised eyebrow as if he's challenging you . he looks back at the handcuffs for a moment. 'whenever you want, baby.' he reminds you , voice softer .

you decide that fuck it , you can't take it anymore. fuck being in charge, fuck your pride and fuck sunghoon – literally and figuratively.

it's not long before you have freed sunghoon from his restraints , leaving sweet , delicate kisses on the marks that have formed on his wrists before his hands find your hips , moving them for you as he holds you close to his chest , his mouth busy licking and kissing along your neck to muffle his moans as he finally gets to fuck you properly.

[pieandflannel]

Hi, your angst hit me hard, not gonna lie, and I was wondering if you are able to write like a part 2 of it where they reunite in heaven, maybe make it a little bit fluffy, idk, what ever your up to, it was so good, I literally had to look in a different direction so I won't cry, thank you 🥰

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ stairway to heaven ☁️

pt.2 to talking to the moon

⟢ ₊⊹ ✧ ₊⊹｡ ⋆ ˚ ⋆ ｡˚ ₊⊹｡ ʚ ⛥ ɞ ｡⊹₊ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ˚ ⋆ ｡⊹₊ ✧ ⊹₊ ⟢

pairing: dean winchester x gn!reader

summary: due to an unexpected accident you reunite with dean quicker than you expected

cw: angsty fluff, themes of death, cliche idea of heaven, mention of car crash. reference to season 15 (spoiler alert!), special guests (sam, bobby)

word count: 2k

julia yaps: i am so sorry it took me ages to answer your request, my brain refused to work on this sad topic, hope you enjoy this tho! 🥺

────────── ୨ৎ ──────────

you slowly open your eyes only to be greeted by the blinding brightness of nothingness. you squint and rub your eyes in an attempt to get them used to the light that surrounded you.

you managed to get up, wobbling a bit in your tracks before dusting yourself off. where the hell were you? you thought to yourself.

curiosity got the best of you so you started walking ahead of you, trying to explore the place, the bright seemingly empty place with nothing but fluffy cloud-like mist or fog. as you move forward your eye caught a glimpse of something shiny but in order to get to it you had to go up a flight of stairs.

“hello?” you called out, hoping to find someone with some kind of answers, any explanation as to what this place was. there was no response whatsoever, dead silence.

the first step you took onto the stairs felt elevating, and then the rest of them was a piece of cake. as you reached the top, you were welcomed by an enormous golden gate, the excruciatingly gorgeous details carved into every single inch, immediately catching your eye.

you tried to have a closer look at it all, lifting your hand up to gently caressing the gold with your fingertips. at that motion, the pearly gates started opening up with a tiny creaking sound, as if they needed a bit of oil on the hinges.

the sudden movement of the giant gate startling you slightly, but as they open up enough for you to walk through them, you took your chance in trying to explore the place further. as you took a step inside the scenery suddenly flipped.

it’s as if you were teleported to another place. a very beautiful place though, this must be a dream obviously, you thought to yourself. which would explain your chill attitude towards all the exploration without feeling the need to hold a knife or gun in your hand. that feeling of freedom and safety felt so refreshing, considering that most your existence you fought for your life or others lives, as a hunter.

the sound of leaves and twigs crunching under your boots echoed throughout the mountains. birds cooing and crickets chirping, the fresh but warm breeze tickling your face as the golden rays of sunlight shined through the trees. you stopped for a second to enjoy the beautiful landscape in front of you, the different shades of greens and browns all combined into an amazing view that contrasted with the clear blue sky with barely any clouds.

you started hearing a familiar bark in the distance, the sound getting closer and closer until you noticed miracle, dean’s dog that you took care of after his death, running towards you.

“miracle?! come here boy, c’mere!” you called out to him in your high pitched voice that you always used on dogs, patting your thighs encouraging him to run towards you. you knelt down with open arms and before you knew it miracle was all over you, licking your face, jumping up and down with happiness that he’s seeing you. you couldn’t help but giggle, ruffling his hair. “oh what are you doing here all alone boy?” you asked him as if he was going to answer. a big smile on your face, it felt like you haven’t seen him in years. odd.

you were so occupied with petting and playing with miracle that you didn’t even notice someone standing in your line of vision. you wondered who the boots belonged to, maybe this certain someone could help you find out where you were?

your eyes slowly scanned up their body. biker boots, jeans, green jacket, burgundy flannel, black tshirt and then– there it was, the face of a man that owned your heart. none other than dean winchester himself.

dean had a big ol’ smile on his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. he was clearly as happy as miracle to see you, if not more.

“dean?” you exclaimed as you got up from your knees and jumped into his arms, nearly tripping him over while at it. he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your sweet scent. his embrace was tight, you could feel all those years of longing spill into the hug. and of course you returned with the same energy, your grip on his jacket making your knuckles turn white, you didn’t want to let him go, especially if it was a dream that would eventually come to an end, and you’d have to wake up.

“is it really you?” you asked in disbelief, tears welling up in your eyes as you looked up at him. dean nodded with the smile you missed oh so much. you let out a sigh of relief before pulling him in for a soft but passionate kiss, your hands cupping his jaw, all these years of yearning and longing spill into the kiss, from both sides, not just yours. you pull away with a smile “i can’t believe i’m finally having a dream about you”

dean’s smile slowly disappeared at your words, and a worried expression replaced it. you noticed his sudden shift. “what is it?” you asked with a small head tilt. dean looked away for a second before meeting your eyes again.

his expression soft and empathetic, “i don’t know how to tell you this but-“ he started off but before he could finish you cut him off.

“oh my god, sam?!” you squealed running up to him and giving him a big hug, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, “thank god you’re okay, i was starting to get worried that-“ sam started but dean give him a quick hand sign to shut up. you frowned at his words, this dream is getting a little weird, you thought.

you pulled away from the hug, looking at sam confused. “worried that what? guys.. why are you acting so odd?” you began to question. you turned to look at dean who had a mixed expression, he sure as hell was glad to see you but concerned about how you’ll react to what they were about to tell you.

“dean!” you whined softly trying to get him to talk.

dean looked at sam and gave him a nod, “i think it’s best if sam told you..”

you frown in confusion, getting slightly scared. “tell me what?” you gave dean a glance before turning to face sam. now you demanded an answer.

sam shifted slightly on the spot, he took a deep breath, “do you remember what happened?” he looked into your eyes with a deep emotion that you couldn’t quite read. you squinted your eyes a little, “no.. i-“ you tried to go back to what happened before you arrived here. you assumed this was dreamland so you tried to remind yourself where did you fall asleep.

the two men let you figure it out on your own, at it would have been best for you to. your frown turned into a face of panic, not being able to remember the part where you lay down in bed or rest your head on the leather seat of the impala.

“i don’t-“ you started tearing up as the sudden flash of memory came back to you. the memory of two bright headlights of a transportation truck getting closer and closer to the side of the impala. “we were in the car..” you explained what you finally remembered.

“and.. a big truck was heading too quick on a crossroad..” as you say that out loud it all hits you like the truck did. you gasped, looking up into sam’s eyes with devastation in yours. you covered your mouth in pure shock. “we got hit.. on the side, the car tipped” your voice trembling.

sam nodded, “we.. didn’t survive to impact, i’m sorry..” he added with an empathetic tone as if he didn’t die himself, you let out a soft sigh as a stray tear rolled down your cheek. you felt dean’s hand gently rubbing your back in an attempt to sooth you. “we died in a car crash..?” you asked in disbelief, deep down hoping that you misheard or maybe misunderstood, sam gave you a hesitant nod. “..wow” was all you could vocalise as the information sank in.

you cleared your throat, “so this is..” you tried to say it out loud but you couldn’t spit it out, denial creeping up on you.

“you’re in heaven sweetheart” dean stepped in, he knew this was a hard pill to swallow and that you’d need time to accept that you’ve died, along with sam and miracle. you let out a broken chuckle as tears filled your eyes. dean pulled you back into a hug, his hand rubbing your back in a slow, calming motion. his chin resting on the top of your head.

for a long minute, you say nothing. you just let dean hold you.

“honestly didn’t think we’d end up here after all the shit we’ve done” you broke the silence with a joke, trying to distract yourself with lighthearted humour. you heard the two men chuckle softly at your words.

you sniffled and wiped your tears away with your sleeve. “at least we are all together now right?” you tried to see the positive side of it all, even if it was hard.

“yeah, we are” dean mumbled into your hair, a soft smile on his face. once he felt your body gradually relaxing, tension disappearing, he slowly let go of you. and instead he intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand.

“now how bout we go say hi to bobby” he suggested as he gently shook your hand in his, a smile curving on his face. he couldn’t take his emerald green eyes off you, his heart thumping in his chest at how happy he was to finally reunite with you, his true love.

you nodded enthusiastically.

dean whistled, “come on boy, let’s go” he called to miracle, and then the four of you walked towards bobby’s cabin.

you had so much questions to ask about this place, but you knew not to throw them all at once at dean. “so.. this is how heaven looks like, huh? so not what i expected”

dean smiled, the corners of his eyes scrunching slightly, looking up at the mountains and trees. “yeah, jack made sure to make this place as peaceful as possible, and where everyone could be together, not just isolated in their own little memory for eternity” dean explained.

“jack did a terrific job with this place” sam added, casually admiring the nature scenery as you walked down the path that lead to bobby’s place.

“he really did” you agreed, you glanced at dean with a smile before looking around, taking in the beauty of this place.

“you three idjits better not walk all over my petunias, or i’ll rock salt you with my shotgun” you heard bobby yell from his porch as he sat in his rocking chair. his threat lacking the hostility, your giggle making bobby smile.

“well i’ll be darned..” bobby stood up from his chair, looking all happy to see you. you strolled quickly towards him to give him a hug. “hey bobby”

“so.. gardening, huh bobby?” sam teased with a cheeky little grin.

“what? it’s calming, clears your head and it lowers your blood pressure” he explained seriously.

“bobby you know you can’t die from high blood pressure in heaven, right?” dean chuckled, joining into teasing the older man.

“shut up” bobby muttered.

the interaction felt like you got taken back in time, back to bobby’s house during the festive season, teasing and bickering like a family at a table full of home cooked food with a football game or shitty hallmark movie playing in the background.

you had a feeling you’ll be okay, and you were. because now you were all together. safe and retired from the dangerous job that brought you guys all together in the first place.

thank you so much for reading! feedback and reblogs are always deeply appreciated <3

tags: @jensino @emeraldcrs @soldiersgirl @jensenacklesballsack @missus-ackles @littlesoulshine @deanswifeyy @slut4jackles @h8aaz @bruisedfig @angelicjackles @losers-clvb @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @rositaslabyrinth @deanspookiebear @tinas111 @bejeweledinterludes @miss-marmalade @pinksatinpanties @multiversefanfics @cupidzbunny @heartrendercastiel @sunnyteume @mrsanakinwinchesterpoldark @krabog @that-stanford-girlie @pwin098 @tendertulip @honeyyxxbee @rerejunebug

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[lyn31]

Random Girl

Summary

A playful game spirals into chaos as you pretend to be a "random girl" hitting on your own husband, Zayne—who tries, and hilariously fails, to fend you off.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader Married couple, silly, banter, short and sweet, I watch too much of this trend...

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Zayne sits on the couch, legs crossed, scrolling through a report on his tablet. The warm evening quiet wraps around the living room. Dinner’s long done, the dishes tucked away, and the air smells faintly of whatever candle you left burning in the corner.

You emerge from the bedroom with a suspicious glint in your eye and plop down beside him—far too purposeful for someone pretending to relax.

He doesn’t look up right away, but you catch the flicker of suspicion in his brow.

You lean in with a dashing smile. “Darling, think fast—I’m a random girl!”

Before he can say anything, you grab his face and kiss him. It’s firm, a little dramatic, and you feel him instinctively lean into it, his hand resting against your waist. Then you pull back with an exaggerated gasp, frowning.

“Zayne! I’m a random girl! You’re not supposed to kiss me back!”

He blinks. “But you’re my wife.”

“It’s hypothetical!”

Now he looks thoughtful, as if genuinely trying to parse the rules of this absurd little game. “Ah. I see.”

You squint at him, not letting go. “I’m a random girl,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes as you give his arm a little squeeze.

Zayne pauses, then very slowly tries to pull his arm free, his expression going carefully blank. “Miss, I’m married.”

Your grin widens. “Why are you pushing me away?”

“Because,” he says, with the perfect rhythm of someone about to drop an overly formal declaration, “I’m married.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, biting your lip dramatically.

He raises an eyebrow. “You should.”

You scoff. “Why? You’re hot.”

“I’m already married.”

You lean in further, eyes sparkling. “That just makes you even hotter.”

Zayne looks at you evenly. “You’re forward. But my wife is irreplaceable.”

Then—clearly unsure of how to actually push you away—he starts edging back stiffly, like someone doing a dramatic stage exit in slow motion. It’s so unconvincing that you can’t help but reach for him again, smiling.

Which in turn only makes him scoot farther back along the couch like you’ve just threatened national security.

You burst out laughing, flopping against the cushions with a hand to your chest.

He eyes you warily as you sit back up, prop your chin in both palms, and tilt your head, smiling sweetly.

“You’re so cute,” you say, batting your lashes.

That gets him.

For a second, his expression softens—just a flicker—but enough to see it. His brows relax, mouth parting like he’s about to respond. The faintest hint of color touches his ears.

Then he seems to catch himself. “…Is this you again?” he asks, cautious.

You shake your head, all innocence. “Nope. Still the random girl.”

He stands at once, scooping up his tablet in one smooth motion. “I’m a married man.”

Your laughter echoes after him down the hall—until you scramble up and chase your poor, suffering husband.

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Notes

I write this on my lunch break...... No judgement over my lack of restraint! ahahahahaha P.S. Idk why I find it so funny that all Zayne needs as a reason is that he's already married, and if they're not married yet, it's probably "I'm taken" statement LOL Also at first I was like this would fit better for the College AU but doing it to older Zayne is so much funnier 😂

And here's the list for their married/parehood life! Parenthood AU list ✨

[the-apple-of-my-eye0-0]

Do you wanna fuck?

Caleb x chubby! Reader

Content warnings: Praise, breeding kink, needy Caleb, reader is afab, unprotected sex, uses of: mama, baby, pretty girl, fluffy smut, a little angst.

This has been in my drafts for a hot minute, so I thought I'd finally post it. Reader is chubby and insecure. Idk this just came to me and I thought I’d write about it.

🔞 !!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!! 🔞

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Caleb and you have been dating for a while. Everything is going great, except you’ve been too insecure to show him your body, thinking he’d see you differently once the layers of deceit are discarded.

You’d always thought he was too good for you, wayyyy out of your league. No one verbally fed into this delusion but you could just tell by the way girls fawned over him in public, giving you eyes full of disgust.

He’d been persistent on wanting to have sex with you, but always stayed within your boundaries whenever you tell him no. As his girlfriend you’ve felt guilty for not giving him what the both of you wanted so bad.

So tonight you finally give in, too horny to overthink or back out.

After another steamy make out session, you told him the words he oh so wanted to hear “I’m ready baby, let’s have sex”.

His face was pure shock, taking a moment to register what you said. “Are you sure pip? I need to be sure you really want to.” He asked, hands resting on your waist.

“Yes I’m sure, please fuck me caleb” you pleaded. And with that a switch flipped inside him.

A smirk rose on his face, eyes going dark as he climbed over you, pining you onto the bed. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that” he kisses you, feverishly, not able to get enough.

Slowly, he starts to remove your clothes, starting with your shirt, admiring every inch of your skin. Then sliding off your shorts, until you were almost bare beneath him.

“God, can’t believe you’ve kept this precious sight from me for so long” his voice almost sounding like a whine?

‘What?’ You thought to yourself, blindsided at the fact he loved your body, just as much as you hated it, if not more.

“Let me see what else you’ve been hiding from me”, a smirk forms on his face as he kisses up your arm while removing your bra.

Once the garment is removed, he loses all sense of control, sucking on your nipple while the other is in between his unforgiving fingers.

“Caleb~” you moan, the new sensation sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body.

“Keep saying my name like that baby, love hearing your moans” he says as he moves to your other nipple, continuing to give you pleasure.

You could feel his feel his hard cock through his pants on your thigh, slowly grinding in need of some friction.

“Wanted this for so long.” He kisses every inch of your skin, leaving trails of light bruises in his wake.

“Hearing your pretty moans through the walls, thinking I’m asleep — drove me crazy, looked forward to them every night” his confession sending shivers down your spine.

You gasp at the thought of him listening, cheeks turning red with embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry baby, I was just scared…” you explain.

“Don’t be,” kiss, “not here,” kiss, “not with me,” kiss, “gonna make you feel so good,” kiss, “gonna make you mine forever”. He kisses down to the hem of your panties, looking into your eyes for permission.

You bite your lip in anticipation and nod eagerly, “Please Caleb, I need you”, you beg.

He doesn’t waste any time, removing the cloth before burying his head between your thighs.

“Fuuuuuck~” you moan, the feeling of his tongue against your needy clit makes your eyes roll back, your hands gripping onto his hair, slightly tugging at the strands.

“Mhm—that’s it, let everyone know how good I’m making you feel” he purrs against your clit. The vibration going right through you.

“Ah, Caleb!— feels so good, need you inside me” you plead, looking at the lewd sight beneath you.

“Yeah? You ready for this cock, baby? Fuck can’t wait to be inside you” he raises his head, watching you through lust hazed eyes.

"Mhm, can't wait any longer." You whine, forgetting all your worries.

You watch as he removes his shirt, showing off his toned muscles. A familiar feeling rises in your stomach, a mix of butterflies and nerves.

He reaches for his side drawer, grabbing a condom, that was until your hand wrapped around his wrist, "wanna feel all of you" you tell him.

He stares at you with wide eyes for a moment before a smirk grows on his face. "You sure? Can't promise I'll be able to resist coming in this sweet pussy?" He warns.

You didn't care, how could you when you've been waiting for this exact moment since you met him.

"I don't care, just want you inside me, want to feel you cum inside me" you reassure him.

You don't have to tell again, he's imagined having a family with you for so long, having a mini you running around.

He unzips his pants, removing the remainder of his clothes, allowing his hard, throbbing cock to spring free. "Yeah, wan' me to make you a mama? Wanna carry my baby inside you?" He coos.

"Mhmm- Ah" you gasp as he pushes his cock inside you. "aw baby, feel so good wrapped around me" he takes a moment before thrusting inside you.

You melt into the pleasure of his curved tip hitting against your sweet spot over and over, you repeatedly moan his name as if it was a sacred prayer.

"You like that, hm?" he groans, leaning down to whisper in your ear. "I'll give this to you whenever you want baby"

You take his head in your hands and pull him in for a deep kiss, no ferocity, no haste, just pure love.

You feel him throb inside you, until he starts to thrust deeper and harder, making you pull away from the kiss, gasping at the pleasure.

He continues fuck you at a mid breaking pace. Causing your body to jolt with each thrust.

You have enough brainpower to realise what's happening and you grab the blanket to try and cover yourself.

Caleb didn't like that one bit, pinning your arm to the bed and tossing the blanket to the side.

“Don’t cover your stomach pretty girl, wanna see as I fuck a baby into it” he kisses your stomach, shattering all your insecurities instantly.

You let go, allowing the lust to finally overtake you. Your eyes rolling back, mouth open slightly.

"That's it baby, forget about everything else, just focus on the feeling of my cock filling you up." he moans breathlessly.

You feel your climax rising. "Gonna cum" you babble out mindlessly.

"Yeah? Cum for me baby, cum 'round my cock" he pleads.

With that you squirt around his cock, moaning loud enough for your neighbours to hear.

A guttural moan escapes his lips, feeling your walls clamp around him.

"'m gonna cum baby, gonna make you a mama, wanna see you hold my baby, can you give me that?" he whines.

You're too cock drunk to reply, just nodding your head pathetically.

He cuts inside you, groaning at the pleasure, giving you a few more thrusts before collapsing beside you, panting heavily.

"Fuck, you're so hot baby, love you so much". he whispers breathlessly into your ear.

[druggeddraccus]

ugh my asthma has been acting up lately. usually that only happens when it’s really cold but it hasn’t been. i think it’s cause of all the grass dander the puppy is picking up outside. i washed all my bed sheets last night and had the puppy sleep on the floor

but now i’m forcing myself to use the nebulizer lol need a lung reset.

yesterday we had christmas party with my moms side of the family. it was okay. we brought the dogs and i played with my cousins twin 1yr olds and i took videos while the kids opened their gifts

my sister and nephew were there so i got to hold him. my sister was annoying. getting onto me with how i was holding him (when i was doing the exact opposite of what she said i was doing wrong—she’s the kind of mom that just wants to put other people down when it comes to her kid. like she just wants to make other people feel inferior when it’s convenient and lines up with her personal values) and she got annoyed when a family sat next to me with one of the 1yr olds and my sister got visibly pissed when the 1yr old reached over and touched the top of my nephews head and cheek. (the 1yr old had clean hands cause he just ate fucking spaghetti like. you could clearly tell they had just cleaned his hands) idk tbh it’s not even like motherhood has changed her personality at all though cause she was like this before. i just like to rant about it in a place where i don’t have to explain or sugarcoat my ranting

best part of my day though was spending time with my cousin on my dads side. i love spending time with them. we went to the mall and just had a great time.

[sunsetsandsunshine]

Hey!! For your next fic could you do Leo and Mikey angst

It came be 2012, MM or rise

~ 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 ~

💙🐢🧡 ��𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @tmntalways 💙🐢🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝚒, 𝚃𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍!!! 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚋𝚛𝚘 ��️💔…𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 💖💕💘💞🩷!!! 𝙰𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚝 𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 😅👍🏾! 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍— 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 🫠…˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟸𝟾𝟾

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐…𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍…𝚞𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍, 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 '𝚞𝚗'. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕? 𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢…

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @shut-up-jo @someone1348 @saturnzskyzz

@savemeafruitjuice @rice-cake-teen10 @mistyandsnow

@skyloladoodles @itzsana-kiddingmenow @titters-and-tingles

(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!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!!

𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙰𝙳𝙷𝙳 𝚊𝚗𝚍/𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌!!! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 ☺️💞💗💓💕

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

Mikey couldn’t do anything right now. Like…anything.

Well…perhaps he was being a bit too dramatic. He was breathing. And he was fidgeting with his squishy cube. So saying he wasn’t doing 'anything' wasn’t entirely true.

Right now he just…couldn’t do anything…productive. 

For example, the box turtle tried making his favorite dishes and deserts! But that endeavor just ended up being a huge mess in the kitchen…and leaving the youngest turtle with a bunch of unappetizing food. 

Which he fed all to Raph by the way. 

Some would call that choice of action cruel but Mikey would just call it 'using his resources'. 

Besides, it’s not like the eldest minded at all. He said, and I quote: 'It has a nice…crunchy feeling to it. Did you put some of Don’s inventions in this?'

Which honestly got a couple of chuckles out of the smallest turtle teen of the bunch.

Then, Mikey tried skateboarding! But for once in all his 14 years of living…it was just utterly boring. 

And after all of that nonsense, Mikey then finally tried reading a comic…but he was too unfocused to even get to the second page…

But what was really new? Mikey could never focus on jackshit even if said jackshit hit him right in the shell. 

His brothers and sister would always have to remind him to stay focused or 'not do this' or 'not do that'.

For example, a couple days ago Donnie had to kindly remind the box turtle (well…as kindly as Donnie could be anyway…) to brush his teeth.

To. Brush. His. Fucking. Teeth. 

And honestly? Having to be reminded to do that was really embarrassing. And the orange banded teen knew his brother didn’t mean to humiliate him internally…but…yeah.

And it’s not like the softshell was wrong either! The youngest turtle just couldn’t freaking accept that he himself couldn’t do such a simple task in the morning. 

But literally every task he completely fails to do is just utterly simple ones!

Like cleaning his room or not forgetting things or even keeping track of time! 

…And the sad part about all of it was Mikey just honestly could not understand how his family haven’t gotten sick of his annoying tendencies…

And let’s be for real here…that was basically all of his tendencies. 

The box turtle groaned loudly in his room, slamming his whole body on his bed as he screamed into his pillow. 

There had to be something he could do instead of just wallowing in his own self pity…

And one of those options could not consist of bothering his family with his random bad mood. They had to put up with him 24/7…the least he could do was give them some space.

The youngest then glanced at his drawing notebook hopefully…

…One little sketch of something random wouldn’t hurt, right?

The amber eyed teen reached for his notebook, grabbing a pen from his drawer as he started to sketch his desk because why the absolute fuck not? Based on the objects he’s drawn in the past…sketching a simple desk should and will be easy, right? Right. 

That was until the orange banded teen’s pencil tip broke. But it was fine! He could just re-sharpen it, right? Right.

That was until the youngest realized he had absolutely no clue where his sharpener was due to the fact his room looked like a pig stie. And there was no way he was looking for it in…that whole situation. 

…The situation he created in the first place. 

Michelangelo layed on his bed with his face staring at the ceiling in frustration, he ran his fingernails along his arms, not making really deep cuts with them but going deep enough for it to hurt a bit.

Like a reasonable turtle would, Mikey should probably get one of his stress toys…or better yet, another pencil!

But let’s be for real here…he’d most likely find a way to fuck that up too.

Suddenly, there was a small, quiet knock on Mikey’s door but…in all honesty? He just wanted to crawl into his shell and sob for the next hour and a half. Letting out a niiiiice and quick 'come in' would take way too much energy. 

The box turtle let out a soft grunt, letting whoever was on the other side know it was a-okay to come in.

Abruptly, Leo peeked in the room, a wide smile plastered on his face as he closed the door, “Damn, Mikester…it looks like every single natural disaster went through your room…”

“I’m cleaning it.” The youngest grumbled to his brother.

“Really? You sure about that, little bro? Because if my memory serves me correct (which it in-fact does), you said that last week. And the week before that…and the week before—“

“I SAID I’M FUCKING CLEANING IT!!!” The orange banded turtle snapped, sitting up on the bed to glare at his immediate older brother before slowly realizing what he just did. 

The youngest’s heart dropped as he looked away from his brother. The orange banded mutant’s eyed widened as silent and small tears ran down his face. He covered his mouth as his other hand turned to a fist, his nails unforgivingly digging into his palm.

“I-I’m sorry…I’m s-sorry…I-I’m so s-sorry…!” He started, rocking himself back and forth before stopping as he was met with a warm embrace. Leonardo hugged him gently but firmly, rubbing the other’s shell in a comforting hold. “Woah woah…! Bud, you have nothing to apologize for…” The slightly older teen said as he rested his chin on the top of his baby brother’s head.

“L-Like h-hell I don’t. I-I just screamed a-at y-you for no reason…” Michelangelo wobbly said. “You were just trying to lighten the mood but I just had to make everything harder like I-I always do…!” 

“Mikey—”

“I-I always do this. I-I’m so f-fucking s-sorry Leo…”

“Mikester…I-I appreciate the apology but it seriously isn’t necessary—”

“You’re probably so sick of me and so angry at me. I-I’m sorry I just—”

“Mikey!” Leo gently yelled to get the other’s attention, squeezing the smaller turtle’s hands as he stared straight at him with pleading eyes. “Do I look mad?”

“…N-No.”

“Do I sound mad?”

“…No.” 

The second youngest sadly smiled, “So what are you apologizing for, hm?”

“…I-I…dunno…I-I just…I just felt I needed to apologize…” The box turtle mumbled as he looked at his hands. The blue banded turtle sighed, slowly getting out of the hug so him and his little brother faced each other. The slider rubbed the other turtle’s palm with his thumb comfortingly, “…Do you wanna talk about it, baby bro?”

The leader in blue was just met with silence…which he could honestly work with.

“Angelo…you know you can tell me…anything, right? Like…anything. Although, it doesn’t have to be me you talk to about it. It could be Raph or Don or April or even Dad or Draxum! I just…don’t want you sitting here and bottling up the way you feel…” 

Silence. Leo continued.

“You’re always there when we need you, Angel. Whether it’s to vent or to just ramble about shit, you’re just…always there. We don’t tell you this enough but we appreciate you always being someone we can lean on…”

Silence. Leo continued.

“But…you do know you can lean on us too, right? Comfort goes both ways and I can see you’re hurting, buddy. So please…if you need to talk to me…I’m right here.”

Mikey sniffled, squeezing Leo’s hand, “I-I d-dunno. Today is just…weird. This whole week has just been…weird.” Leo nodded, giving his brother his full undivided attention, “How so?”

“I just…haven’t been able to do anything…” The smaller teen admitted.

“What do you mean?” The taller teen inquired. 

“I haven’t been able to do…anything. Like, I can’t draw, cook or even skateboard! Me!!! Not being able to skateboard— isn’t that crazy?!” The amber eyed turtle laughed bitterly.

“And it’s not like I can’t do it. I’m perfectly freaking capable of doing it in the right amount of time I want but my brain just. won’t. let. me!” 

“I keep procrastinating and not doing the stuff I want to do and I have no idea why! I’m tired of just putting things off and being this way! I want to do things without having to ask you guys for help or to remind me or to relate it with a hyperfixation that I have!” Mikey hiccuped, a new wave of tears rolling down his face as his hands shook. 

The amber eyed teen sniffled, refusing to look at his immediate older brother at all right now because…holy shit he just overshared a whole lot…

Like…a whoooooooooole freaking lot.

“…That sounds like you.” Leonardo shrugged. 

In a state of just shock and confusion, the box turtle pulled his hands away from his brother, looking up at him as lime green eyes met amber ones. “I…what…?” Michelangelo murmured.

“I said that sounds like you.” Leo said again casually as Mikey glared at him, “Yeah. I heard what you said but that isn’t helpful.”

“I’m just being honest with you, Mikester.” Leo said, “Just…let me explain, okay?”

“…You have five minutes before I kick you out of my room.” 

“Deal.” The lime green eyed mutant commented, “You can’t draw, cook or skateboard right now. You’re procrastinating and not doing the stuff you want to do in the time you planned…is that correct?” 

Michelangelo sent deathly daggers to his brother— which the other wasn’t phased by at all. This time was probably the best time to crawl in his own shell and just sob his eyes out because what kind of dumbass question was his dumbass brother asking him?!

“…Yes.” The orange banded teen mumbled. 

“And…why are those bad things?” 

“WHY?!” The box turtle huffed out a laugh of annoyance, “Pfft— you’re asking me why. Maybe it’s because it’s annoying?! Maybe because it’s frustrating to deal with and I don’t want to burden you guys with my problems?! Maybe because I don’t want to fucking feel or be this way?!” The youngest shouted, breathing heavily as he finished his rant. 

The box turtle looked away again, silently cursing at himself for getting annoyed so easily. “Mikey.” Leo started again, “Your being too hard on yourself, okay? No one is expecting you to be at your 100% all the time.” 

“What you just described to me; you being able to not focus or you getting bored easily or procrastinating with stuff is…literally you. You’re just being you.” The slider explained as he held his baby brother’s hand in his. “And I get it. It’s hard to deal with it sometimes and it’s going to be hella frustrating. Like…super borderline frustrating. But you can’t shun them away and just…try to ignore them, bubs…”

“Let’s take moi for example. I’m impulsive, I talk loud and lose things daily. Those three things don’t make up my whole personality but it would be super weird and off-putting if I just…didn’t do or have those three things, right?” 

The youngest giggled wetly, “Yeah…it would. A-And by the way, I’m still waiting for you to find that glittery pen kit I gave you…”

Leonardo groaned loudly and dramatically, causing the other teen to giggle louder, “I’m looking for it, okay?! It’s in my room…somewhere.” The taller mutant mused, “But anyways…back to you. You procrastinate, you relate things to your hyperfixations and you can’t do some of your favorite tasks from time to time…those are some traits that make up you, is it not?” 

Mikey sniffled, rolling his eyes playfully due to the fact he knew damn well where this was going, “Yeah…” 

Leo smiled softly, seeing his younger brother was starting to get his point, “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, okay? I know sometimes it’s hard to deal with the things you described but you have us for that.” He said as his smile turned to a grin. 

“You can come to me— to us— anytime. We love you for who you are…your flaws and all and we just…I-I need you to know that we love you so so much—!” The slider was cut off by a sudden abrupt embrace from the box turtle. The orange banded teen sobbed into the other’s shoulder, clutching the taller turtle like a lifeline. 

“T-Thank you…” The box turtle wobbly said through tears.  

“Of course, Angel.” Leo said as he hugged his baby brother back, “I love you.” He said as he kissed the other teen on the head.

“I-I l-love you too…”

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Tell your thoughts to shut up.” Leo said as he lightly poked Mikey in the forehead numerous times. The two were sitting on the box turtle’s bed just simply…relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. Michelangelo was sitting in between his older brother’s legs as he had his shell to his brother’s plastron.

Leonardo hugged his brother protectively, resting his chin on the top of the box turtle’s head. “What do you mean?” The youngest giggled out. “I can hear your thoughts, man. You’re not bothering me or disturbing me in any way, shape or form, alright…?” 

The amber eyed turtle nodded, squeezing Leo’s hand, “Y-Yeah…I know...” 

“I’m choosing to be here because I love you. I don’t feel obligated to be here, okay? You’re not annoying and you, neither your problems are a burden…okay?” The slider said reassuringly, “It’s okay to ask us for help…and we don’t mind reminding you to do things…okay?” 

“You’ve said ‘okay’ like, fifty times…”

“Mikey.” 

“Mhm…yeah yeah…I gotcha…”

The elder looked at his brother skeptically, resting his chin on his little brother’s shoulder so they made solid eye contact, “I want you to say it.” 

“…Say what exactly?”

“I want you to say that you are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.” 

“You are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.” Michelangelo grinned smugly. Leonardo glared at the youngest’s interpretation to his statement, “Mikey, you know exactly what I meant.” 

“I said what you wanted me to say…so…” The amber eyed teen trailed off.

“Michelangelo.” The slider said in a warning tone as he poked the other’s side. The box turtle squeaked at the unexpected touch, trying to stop his immediate older brother from doing it again but his brother had a strong but gentle grip on him…

Then the smallest turtle came to recognition that he was stuck in a potential tickle hug with no way out…

…How wonderful. 

“L-Leeheeo…doohoo nahat.” The orange banded mutant warned through his giggles, said warning not seeming too threatening due to the fact he was already laughing up a storm. The leader in blue raised a brow, poking the other’s side repeatedly, “I just want you to repeat what I said…in the first person.” The taller teen specified.

The smaller turtle squirmed in the hug, small frantic giggles pouring out of his mouth. This…really wasn’t how he was expecting his day to go. Just about an hour ago, he was wallowing in sadness about the stuff he hated about himself, to talking about it with his brother, to now getting tickled by his brother.

…So could he really complain about how things turned out?

…Yes. Yes, he absolutely could.  

“Leeheeon! Plehease dohon’t!” The youngest squealed as one of his brother’s hands hovered over his stomach. Mikey held onto the other’s wrists, trying to stop his elder brother from tickling him but his small attempts ending up to be all for nothing as Leo effortlessly tickled his stomach with one hand.

“LEEHEEHAHAHA!!” Michelangelo laughed wholeheartedly, swatting at his brother’s arms. The lime green eyed turtle cooed at the gesture, now using both of his hands to attack the youngest’s plastron, “D'aww…look at you giggling your head off~! You’re my adorable little bundle of amazingness, aren’t you~?”

The smaller teen shook his head, a faint blush appearing on his face, “STAHA— squeal N-NAHAHA!”

“What~? What was that?” The blue banded mutant asked as he kneaded the box turtle’s hips. “GYAHAH— squeal SHIHIHIT! COHOME OHAHAN!!!” The amber eyed turtle cried frantically as he kicked his legs on the mattress slightly. 

The youngest squealed with laughter, curling in on himself as he slumped in his big brother’s hold. Leonardo just sighed fondly at the action, wrapping the other in another hug as he raspberried his neck. “LEEHEEHEE!! PLAHAH— squeak NAHAHAT THEHERE squeak PLEHEASE PLEHEASE— squeak!!!”

“Not there~?” The elder lightly mocked, “What about…here~?” He mused as he used his hands to scribble all over the younger turtle’s ribs. Mikey cackled, shaking his head to try and at least subside the tickly feelings.

“NAHAHA— squeal AHAHAHA!! NAHAHAT THEHEHERE EHE— squeal EHEHEITHER!!! LEEHEEO!!” The orange banded turtle squeaked as Leo stopped for a second, “I’ve tried sooooo many spots, buddy! How many times are you gonna say not there, hm?”

Mikey genuinely squawked louder than a firefighter siren, squirming so much it looked like he was actually being electrocuted. “PLEHEHAHA LEEHEEO NAHAHAT THEHEHE RIHIHIBS!!!” He cackled. 

“Not the riiiibs~? Why~? Is it because it’s your tickle spot~? Your tickletickletickle spot~? Because you’re ticklish~?” Leonardo asked as he lightly nibbled the crook of Mikey’s neck. 

Michelangelo screamed in laughter, scrunching up his shoulders as he dug his heels on the bed, a couple of his plushies sadly falling on the floor (R.I.P. man…) “EEEHEEHEEP!!! S-STAHAP BEEHEEING MEEHEAN!” Mikey said as he thrashed on the bed. 

The slider said nothing, his hands sneaking up to the box turtle’s underarms. “AAAAHAHAHA! OHO NOHOHO— squeak SHIT! SHIHIHAHAT!”

Happy tears slowly begin to appear in the smallest teen’s eyes, he weakly hit Leo’s arms as a last attempt to be set free, “LEHEHEMME squeal GOHOHOHO!” 

“Ohonly if you sahay it, bubs.” 

“IHIHI— SQUEAK!! LEEHEEHEEON!!!” 

“Yeeeees, baby brother~?” The elder dragged out as he kneaded the other’s hips.

“IHI’LL SAHAY IHIHAT I-IHIHI’LL SAHAHAY IHIT!!” The amber eyed teen squealed. 

“And you promise not to be a sassy little shit about it~?” The older teen asked.

“SQUEAK YEHAHAHA— SQUEAK YEHES YEHES I-I PROHOHOMISE!” 

Leo stopped tickling his little brother, hugging him protectively as the youngest caught his breath slowly but surely. “W-Wahait…whahat squeak wahas ihihat yohou eeheeven wahanted me squeak to sahay again?” 

The taller turtle pondered for a bit, thinking to himself before loudly groaning, “That’s…a good damn question. I don’t really remember exactly what I wanted you to say in the first place…” The lime green eyed turtle sighed, “Forgetfulness at its finest...” 

The red eared slider adjusted himself, making sure the other was comfortable before starting to speak again, “Well…based on what we talked about…could you maybe just…y'know…” Leo gestured with his hands before groaning, “Do you get what I’m trying to say, man?” 

“…I thihink I have ahan idea…” Mikey giggled as he fiddled with his hands, “I shouldn’t beat myself up so much because of some of my traits or quirks. And I’m allowed to feel frustrated and/or upset because things don’t go my way because of them. But…I shouldn’t allow those things to put me down...”

Michelangelo smiled softly, rubbing his palm with his thumb, “They don’t define me as a person but they make me a person. I don’t need to be at my best 100% and I’m allowed to have bad days. And if things get too overwhelming or difficult I can just go to you guys.” 

Mikey hugged himself, letting out a small laugh as his happy tears welled up in his eyes, “I’m just…being me. And there’s nothing wrong with that.” Leonardo teared up at his brother’s words, hugging him tighter than he ever had before and burying his face at the back of the youngest’s head.

“Never forget that, Miguelito…never forget that.” 

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

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

[beepboopimaproblemchild]

Constantly writing a Jason who isn't as mischaracterized as in the comics (2006-2011 for instance) is exhausting. Trying to make him have a believable personality is exhausting, like how emotional is he? How much does he love his previous family? Should he reconcile with Bruce? Whats his relationship with Dick like in this characterization? How do I stick to a canon that doesn't even portray Jason in a stable way? Like girl please.

Getting so fed up I might just make Jason a full on bitch again. Really cleanse the tl with a Jason that does not give a shit. It'd be so much easier fr 😩

[theghostofashton]

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[telesodalite]

Thinking about KrokFire...

Thinking about them sparring in the cargohold, because it's a long trip, and cabin fever is setting in, and Misfire is gonna pop a gasket if he doesn't do something about it soon, since flying in open space gets real boring real fast, and it's making everyone a little nervous, but Krok has time to kill, and maybe, quietly, he's also two steps away from doing something stupid just to feel alive again after cruising around pointlessly, mindlessly, endlessly, for so so long... (It's barely been a month)

And sure, Misfire is a terrible sparring partner. He has no technique, no concept of proper balance, or an inkling of how to use the weight of his own frame. He rushes headfirst like he's more bull than fighter jet, he talks too much, he spits, he bites, and he can't stand losing. But, in a roundabout way, it almost makes him the perfect partner in Krok's eyes.

Crankcase won't spar, "can't" he claims flatly, gesturing at the gaping hole in his helm, but Krok can respect his want for distance. That occasional flash of fear and frozen unease in Crankcase's visor in close combat doesn't go over his head. He knows that look. He gets it. He won't push.

Fulcrum... well, a streetlight might be a tougher fight, or at least it would stay up longer and complain less. So much for a once respectable officer of the empire. What was Deathsaurus' command thinking promoting anyone without any actual combat training? It would almost be pathetic if Fulcrum didn't find a way to put the vitriol of thrown fists into his words instead. Now there was some swears Krok hadn't heard in a couple millennia, it would be inspiring if it wasn't his own spark Fulcrum had been damning to the pits and back through a bloody nose.

Spinister? Now Spinister was a good fighter, a better fighter, Krok wasn't so prideful to deny that truth. He'd tasted the dust of the cargohold floor enough to know it was a definitive fact. But Spinister held back, he was careful, he matched Krok's pace, his movements, he held himself defensively, any attack was quick, simple, and merely restraining. It was less a fight, and more a waiting game until Krok finally gave up, and that... well, that did sting a bit.

But Misfire? Misfire was a different beast all together. Sure Krok could dance circles around the flier all day, but it wasn't totally effortless work, he had to stay sharp, Misfire was so predictably unpredictable, he kept him thinking, moving, on his toes, and maybe it felt good to sidestep another stupid headfirst charge, easily grabbing and swinging Misfire around by his arm, so unbalanced all Krok had to do was let him go, and the weight of his own frame would send him careening into the crates stacked around them.

Most days, Misfire would give up by then, pull himself off the pile of overturned cargo with no small amount of burning shame and frustration, as he avoided Krok's optics and stormed off into the bowels of the ship before Krok could say something to ease the sting of losing again and again. Misfire didn't want his apologies though, and even as a pang of guilt ate at him over it, Krok knew he'd be back eventually.

But today, too pent-up and bored to quit now, Misfire pushed himself back onto his feet and charged back in again, and again, and again.

And Krok moved with him again, and again, and again. It was almost repetitive, but lively enough that he could feel the energon pumping through his head, a thrumming beat in his audials that reminds him of deafening battlefields and roaring stadiums, and oh, he'd missed this feeling, the adrenaline, the movement, more so than he thought he did.

Maybe it's the overconfidence that gets him then, or the memories pulling him out of the present, but Misfire's fist suddenly comes slamming down into his mask, and for a moment everything becomes a blur, until he finds himself on the floor, clutching at the shattered metal falling from his face in disbelief.

Faintly he can feel the twinge of broken mesh, of pain pinching dully across scarred flickering sensors, and maybe it's the adrenaline that pulls a suprised and breathy laugh out of him as he stares down at the pieces in his hand.

Maybe it's also the disbelief, the sudden shock at being struck hard enough to break his mask, by Misfire of all mechs. Or maybe he's cracked his helm, finally snapping something important deep in his processor, some vital function that kept him sane all these years.

Either way, an old familiar buzz of heady energy fills his chest, loosening his joints and straightening his struts as he stands back up, brushing off the broken remains of his mask as he stares back at Misfire, barefaced and bleeding and amused as the flier's optics go bright and wide.

And all Misfire can do for a moment is stand there, wide-eyed and breathless, his own adrenaline filled frame and hammering processor still trying to make sense of the broken plating of his knuckles and the energon trickling down Krok's scarred lips.

But connections are made, and it's a panicked realization at first, a cold dread, a 'ohhhhh fuck oh primus I fucked up I'm dead I'm so fucking dead-!' sort of feeling, as Krok's marred face breaks into an energon stained grin. But then there's another feeling, growing somewhere underneath the panic, a sudden curl of heat in his chest, a flush of pride, conviction, a sort of frenzied joy at the sight of broken mesh and fresh energon, and another rush of hot anticipation as Krok began to move again, circling, waiting, an unspoken question in the air as he rolls his shoulders back and flexes his hands.

And Misfire answers eagerly, suprising himself almost as he charges foward again, wanting more of that feeling, wanting to win again.

It's not really sparring past this point, and somewhere in the back of their minds they both know that. Every strike, every kick, every punch, it's all thoughtless instinct, each clash of plating, and bite of denta, and scrape of fingertips, is part of a mad dash for victory in the gladiator pit of scrap and debris they've built around themselves.

Of course, it can't last forever. They're no real gladiators, no phase-sixers, no primes, and movements get sluggish, vents rattle and wheeze as coolant pumps reach their limits, and building condensation slides powerless punches right off of scuffed metal and mesh.

Even like this though, worn out and bleeding from more scrapes than he had half a mind to count, Krok is still better, and Misfire is still predictable, and it's no great feat to sweep his legs out from beneath him, landing him flat on the floor, wings spread out and chestplate heaving.

Overworked joints sharply protest as he goes to pin the flier down bodily, and finally Krok faces the fact he has to consider how to end this, so he might let his own beaten frame finally still for a moment to breathe.

But as Krok catches one flailing arm in his grip, scoffing at the desperation, still goading Misfire on even as he tries to end this, a hand stubbornly catches his throat, but stops before it can truly squeeze.

And once more they're not really moving, just staring, watching, but it's less wired and tense now, rather, its shaky, a little unfocused, as exhaustion filters out in heaving puffs of hot air between their frames.

Someone's plating is rattling, Krok isn't sure if it's his own or Misfire's, but the cost of adrenaline is painfully noticeable now. His grip loosens on Misfire's arms, and the idea of total victory is less sweet as his cables begin to ache throughout his inner-framework.

But Misfire's hand slides up to catch his jaw before he can lean back and relent to a truce, and he's pulling him closer, and Krok starts to push him off, call it quits before either of them breaks something past repair, but a flash of energon on Misfire lips catches his eye, and that hadn't been there a moment ago?

Before he can even begin to ask what that was supposed to mean, Misfire is pulling him down again, angling his helm upwards to feverishly meet his lips half-way.

Although the mesh of Misfire's face was throughly bruised and scuffed, Krok had frustratingly failed to return the favor of a busted lip. So, it had to be his own, smeared across Misfire's face at some point in the scuffle, it shouldn't have been interesting in the slightest, but Krok's processor was hazy, slow, and his optics trailed Misfire's glossa as he licked his lips and made an odd curious sound.

And maybe it was a stupid move to make so impulsively, one he'd regret making probably, but still too caught up in the waning heated high of the fight, Misfire figured he could worry about losing such a hard-earned battle later. Right now, this seemed far better than actually winning, and the taste of Krok's energon felt like a victory and reward nonetheless.

Bracing himself as Misfire wriggled his other hand free to splay out over his thigh, holding him desperately against his frame as he tried pulling him even closer, Krok considered the heat dispersion warnings flickering distractingly in his peripheral, and the very noticeable strain on his back and legs, even his arms.

It's not a great position to be in right now, after all they've done already. He'll regret it, he knows he will, his body will make sure of it, if Spinister doesn't first.

But then Misfire's glossa is sliding against the jagged edges of his teeth, and he's making hoarse little pathetic noises into Krok's mouth that stoke some sort of ego at having the flier so desperate beneath him, and Misfire's hands are warm and heavy over aching plating and seams, and really, on second thought, after weeks of boredom, why the hell not?

They've got nowhere to be.

[itsmistyeyedbi]

There's so much I want to write and so much I want to read, but I can't fully engage with much of anything right now and it's killing me😭

[illegiblehandwriting1]

fyi i swear something's going on w/ legend, neither he nor wars are emotionless i promise, they're both just mentally ill but in different ways. leg sees problem. ignores feelings. fixes problem. (can't fix the problem.) wars sees problem. saw problem wrong. realizes what he did. wants to take it back. (can't take it back.) Also if y'all are disappointed about their arcs, sorry? i guess? point isn't them though, the point is that it's an aftermath story. If i can stuff in more bonus themes within the theme then that's a huge plus (emotionally repressed explorer leg, wwI vet wars yeet)

anyhoo bear with me, Things are Happening. Setup is occurring. and Hylia fans I swear I won't insult her forever, she's actually pretty chill.

writing hard. halp

[greekesctasy]

every so often it like hits me again that i dont live at home anymore and its a very strange kind of grief. i miss it but im so happy here, i really enjoy having space to have my friends over, i like doing whatever i want whenever i want. i KNOW if i moved home it would kinda suck now that i know what freedom (for lack of a better term) is like. but when im in bed and trying to fall asleep i still start mourning the fact im not home anymore

[sepiasys]

Idk if it's bc I'm like NOT suffering the horrors or if my state of being is why or whatever, but man. I've really been being a yapper, huh?

I say this in reference to my social life lmao

[the-zapped-part-timer]

I'm sorry for gushing about something I just started, but omg, the FORMS!!!

Like think about it!

Giant robot suit villain Penn!!

Scary dragon Boone!!

Little goblin Sashi!!

Cutesy animal plushy Larry!!

.....

✨️PRINCESS RIPPEN✨️

[fuwaprince]

When somebody only uses my chosen name while putting me down, it kind of makes me wish I didn't have a name at all.

And when somebody only uses my pronouns when they try to coerce me into something, then switch back to they/them when talking about me to anybody else, it kind of makes me uncomfortable af.

I sincerely do not enjoy being labeled or referred to. Being referred to is such a negative experience for me irl.

Yet not giving people a set of name/pronouns when they ask automatically seems to make them think you're secretly a serial killer trying to cover up something?????? Or like you're untrustworthy and must be hiding because you're a Bad Person instead of just not wanting to label yourself.

Can I just please not be forced to label myself for everybody else's comfort?

I feel like that information is so personally intimate anyways like unless you know me and we're close, why do you even care? I don't think it's necessary for the first stages of getting to know somebody even though in this culture we've normalized it to be that way.

Plus if I don't give you a name then I have the opportunity to earn one. Give me a name that you think I deserve and let it be what you honor me by instead! How about that? It's probably the only way I'll be comfortably perceived since some people will change my labels as they see fit regardless. Just call me what you like, I feel like my name/pronouns have been corrupted as is

[rosesradio]

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