#Why Is It So Hard to Exercise

[grumpyghostdoodles]

I love your Undertale and UTY art! Can we see Martlet and Clover please?

Daaw, thank you so much! And sure thing, here you go!

[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 ~

💙🐢🧡 𝙵𝚒𝚌 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!!!)

[ozcarma]

In light of the TGWDLM remount I’m tempted to make a compilation of my favorite parts of various student and community theater productions that have been uploaded onto YouTube…

[underwaterwasteland]

my compulsory participation in Make A Terrible Comic Day 2024 lmao

[krotiation]

one thing about katagawa redemption arc aus that i dont see anyone talking about is the fact that if he left maliwan he would be dirt broke. no inherited wealth. no cash whatsoever. and i think it would be very poetic if rhys REFUSES to hire him

[8jib]

i gotta stop living like im still in my 20s......

[sciderman]

Hello!! I’m kinda late with it, but I just wanna tell you that my bestie and I are sending you the goodest vibes! ❤️❤️❤️ Cause you see, we went to see the movie on the day of the premiere and we have been shitting on it more and more mercilessly ever since, both of ours anger and grief increasing upon realizing more and more clearly just how utterly SHITE this excuse for a movie was.

And so we were both surprised at finding out just how MANY people on the internet were actually enamoured with it, and praising it like a masterpiece. It felt like being stuck in some fucking simulation, so I was like hold up, there’s this awesome person whose opinions I respect, let’s check there! (Cause my bestie is more of a casual fan, not really on the scene in Deadpool fandom.) So yeah, we went to your blog and were both delighted at your insight, reading all you’ve said about it and laughing in my bed. And as much as it still sucks to have experienced all of that, and that this crap will stay on DP’s record, it was really comforting to see someone so well-spoken feeling the same way and expressing it with eloquence, very satisfying to read. Honest to god, I felt some kind of relief upon being reassured that I’m not just a hater, it was actually ✨That Bad✨

 So thank you!! And stay strong!!

oh trust, I feel entirely similar but - I don’t feel surprised about it because it’s kind of marvel tradition at this point for a film to be nearly entirely incoherent but still a crowd pleaser - I thought we’d grown past this and that people were finally getting wise after all the lukewarm responses to recent mcu entries but I guess deadpool is just the silver bullet that can blindside anybody - I think there’s kind of an expectation attached to deadpool in that it’s Not Going To Be Good. but at least it’s going to be fun. but - you know - shrugs - I’m kind of tired about how OFTEN I’m asked by pieces of media these days to just… switch my brain off? like um? sorry if I want to use my brain? thats what its here for? I have this fucking organ in between my ears that wants to be challenged and enriched and there just isn’t enough in this world that is doing that for me. and I know I’m not going to find that in a marvel movie. but it’s just such a bummer how often people tell me to just switch off my brain and how much I want to fucking !! use my brain though !! just give me some fucking brain food or I might freaking vegetate. I’m gonna go brain dead, lads. I’m gonna go brain dead !! I can’t keep switching off my brain. she’s here to work. she wants to work !!!

[i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end]

I think a lot about that one anecdote about Jeremy - the one where he wrote himself fan mail. I obviously didn't know him, but for me, this story encompasses many of the character traits I think he possessed: a delightful eccentricity, humour, a perfectionism that was both a blessing and a curse, a little vanity perhaps, and an underlying sadness.

I think and talk/write a lot about him and Granada Holmes, and while I am sometimes glad I don't belong to those people who have to worry that their idol goes online and sees all the unhinged things written about them, it also makes me sad that none of us has the chance to write him any actual fan mail. I get the impression that he was the kind of person who would be very flattered to receive fan mail for his 90th birthday! So I decided to do just that! It's very embarrassing and sappy and probably mad - but here we go!

Dear Mr. Brett, since you would turn 90 today, I think you would love to learn just how much your portrayal of Sherlock Holmes still means to so many people (including me) today - decades after you worked so hard to gift us the best possible version of Holmes! I greatly admire and love the depth you gave to the character, and no less your own strength, kindness, and determination. I was born too late to ever have the chance to tell you, but you and your work make me a little happier every day and I am so very grateful for that. You truly played the best Holmes there ever was, and maybe the best one there ever will be. I wish there was a thing I could write to give you back some of the joy you give me daily. Happy birthday! Sincerely yours, a Tumblr user who now feels extremely embarrassed but nevertheless meant every word she wrote Ps: Please do send me a signed photograph, I can guarantee you I will faint if I find it in my mailbox. Pps: I agree that you are prettier than Rathbone, Wilmer, and Stephens!

[eavangeek]

You'll never guess what I'm doing

[cuteniarose]

The consequences of my poor financial decisions are here!!

[squidaped-oyt]

Chewing Viago and Fiorenzo's post-Incident dynamic in my head

[shock-micro]

time loop where multiple people are trapped in it but only one person remembers what happened in the previous loops at a time. eventually they realize it's not just what happened but also the sum total of all their thoughts had during the loops. at first they all try to ignore it out of respect but wouldn't blame the others for being curious. soon they're talking to each other across loops like it's some kinda weird group chat.

there's two options for an ending here. the tragic one, where the one to end the loop is trapped with all these thoughts from versions of their friends that no longer exist, and the other one, where the memories snap back into everyone else upon breaking the loop. the latter can still have an element of, damn, we were so close with the loop telepathy, but it's less of an outright downer

[mmixcelbleegg]

Dalpop occurrences draft thing I have in my New Fandom outsiders Google doc!!!! I sped wrote these and so they aren't the most coherent or. Like how things work But they still make me giggle and that's beautiful

First time trying to not give a (profanity here) please don't make fun of me/silly

some are like mildly sexual Very mildly but ykyk Nothing happens As well as maybe some character discrepancies (if that's the word)

Also Dallas is a homophobe ( he says pansy in one of them if that's triggering at all)

,

- Sodapop slowly looping his arms around Dallas like he's leading in a horse and as soon as Dallas realizes and snaps out of the many atrocities he considers committing again, he breathes out another drag and scolds “Can you get any more handsier? Glory..” as Soda’s just quietly giggling to himself over how he can feel the other guy’s heart rate pick up from the touch alone.

- Dallas called Soda ‘pretty boy’ as a joke once and it Immediately shut him up, which was in stark contrast to the liveliness that radiated from him moments prior.

- When I was thinking about that... Soda getting Flushed, even though it's more likely an insult. Maybe he gets hard off of it being an insult, but no one will ever hear about that. Dal noticing right away and teasing him even more, “Oh, faithful Pepsi’, that from me?” and his voice squeaking in rebuttal “Why’re you even lookin’ down there!”

- Sodapop shadowboxing Dallas because he wants to die/silly. Dal yanks one of his wrists down after a while and maybe holds his hand absently or something i don't know maybe.

- (big oneeee!!!!) Soda, kind of off put over Ponyboy sleeping in his own room now, trying to convince Dallas to cuddle with him. Coaxing him in like how he always hushed Mickey, “C'mon, man, I don't mean anythin’ by it,” and Dal snapping back, “No way, I ain't a goddamn pansy. You go ask your ‘big brother' - maybe he can fetch you your binky too.” Man’s grinning at the challenge the ornery ol’ hooligan’s putting up, “Whatisit - Am I so manly, you can't help but be intimidated?” “How ‘bout I show you how ‘intimidated’ I am by socking you in the jaw, man? ‘Bet we can get real close then.” “Well you linger aroun’ for hugs; what’s the difference?” and even the tough, mean greaser can’t deny that first bit. Soda was just so naturally warm that, during what might've been their first hug after Johnny’s funeral (dubious fanon), he couldn't help but cling a bit tighter. Inevitably, Soda has Dal’s head begrudgingly laid on his chest, the couch sinking under them before anyone is back home to judge. Soda rambling on about how he held Pony like this, gently combing through Dal’s hair as the other boy’s nails just barely dig into his shoulders. He feels like he could explode and scream with feeling at that moment - embarrassment or affection unclear - and his head nudges closer, just processing all sorts of nicknames Soda was giving him. A close to mute “Dally, baby,” filtering with all of the world’s tenderness from where Soda presses his mouth onto the crown of Dal’s blonde head. Dal wouldn't care about himself burning bright red like he does, but he does care about the heat that comes with. He hisses out the only response he knows how to make, threats “If you don't shut up, goddamnit-” and goes on with all sorts of profanities before the weight of comfort comes in waves at him. Soda just chuckles, careful with how his muscles flex to make room for the noise. They part after a good while, but ever since, when he's feeling a sort of mood, Dally hangs and leans against a wall, smoking, nearby Soda whenever he's free - like a dog, a sort of silent ask for ‘private attention’.

As it's put in my doc, More Private occurrences vv not explicit but they're huge gay

- Soda tops (.man I'm cooked) but there is the occasional time Dallas does, and he is NOT playing. Brother skips straight to it. And usually, Soda’s matching his energy to a horrific extent those days. At some point of this arrangement, Darry is off work and walking down the hall when he scolds Soda for being intimate on his bed (clothed, but it sounds like that would change soon) - “I'm not cleanin’ you an’ PONY’S sheets tonight so you better find somewhere else, kid!” At the sound, like clockwork, Dallas instinctually clambers over the sill just above the bed and throws the window open for himself to climb out, which raises a very audible, and Just Thrown Off “Dal?!” from Soda. He only hurries out faster at what might've been a plea, completely incoherent with his whisper shouting. And from just outside the room, Darry is petrified. Stunned. Appalled. Gobsmacked. Slams the door open and Soda is immediately jumping into defense, sweating up a storm and trying desperately to get his charms to work, “Ma’ bad, Darrel, I oughta be headin’ ou’ now-” interrupted “Don’t be playin’ with Dal - I swear to God, you'll be gettin’ it!” and a little back and forth (“We were just wrestlin’, Dar, ‘is no big deal!” “On your bed?” “MhhM! ’:,D” ) before Soda, very meekly, asks “‘You mad?” And Darry eases up a bit, even if it's slightly, to say “Not at you, baby.” Then climbs out the window to chase after the hood, calling “DALLAS TUCKER WINSTON!”

- (also a pretty big one!!) Soda being unbelievably gentle with Dallas, the lead up into this golden retriever of a man holding himself up on top of a perpetually pissed ruffian only being little flirts sprinkled into their usual banter. And Dallas is so not used to it. As Soda’s taking his time, engraving the soft memory of his lips into the side of Dal’s neck, Dal swings his head to the side, hoping the mattress under him dips just enough to hide the wrinkles forming in his expression. He grumbles, mostly to himself, only coherent at the end, “-when’re you bitin’,” as he recalls all the times he and Sylvia made out. Soda doesn't notice the hitch of his throat, and quips faintly “You want me to? Me an’ Pone got a nasty bite!” But he feels the insinuation of Dal’s head tilting down further and looks over, concern making his voice even more private, “What happened?” Dal hisses out curses at how the nerves of his cheeks are now just catching stray tears crawling down them, irritation embedded at the soul of his response and gritting his teeth, “Nothin’, man - I don't get the ‘matter with me.” And he really doesn't. Soda's far too gentle with how his palm shifts his head back upright, his voice just as consoling “We don't gotta do this if you don't wanna, Dal,” kissing down the tracks forming on his face. His voice gets clearer with that anger he always carries, angry at how impossibly nice this guy is “Yeah yeah, I got it - stop messin’ around.” He's very against being close like this (/s) as he leans into the small ministrations now sprinkled onto his forehead, strangled noises from the back of his throat he meant to fizzle out, tried tucking and hiding away into marrow, just audible enough for Soda to coo over. “Aw, hear at you, sunshine!” his laughter seeping out in a way that makes a choked up Dal's heart swell. He tries saying anything, asking for him to shut up and just be rough - stop playing some stupid loverboy - but he's too used to butchering the vulnerable tone that would come out for him to follow through. He can only wince and harshly tug him closer.

- Soda sings him cheesy love songs while he's being touchy - like think of the ‘Put Your Head On My Shoulder’ variety. Him doing that stupid head motion as he delves into a whisper for the “Too~” closer to Dal’s ear and his hand swings up so fast, he almost smacks him. He wish it hit too.

- Soda pinning Dal against the edge of the bed as the latter’s drawing blanks at what he could possibly do that wouldn't involve injuring this pretty boy’s face. Holding his waist and his thumbs maneuvering under the hem of Dal’s shirt, feeling the scrapes and blemishes wounding his skin with fervent attention. (“I think I really dig you, darlin’,” and Dal excessively confused and overwhelmed “Say sike rn.”)

,

I edited the ending to that other post that came from this just a teensy bit... Here is that too smnille

" [...] He wants to strangle Soda when his breath brushes against his hair so softly, despite Dal moving to press his hairline against Soda’s throat, hoping their lungs stiffen so he can stay in still softness forever. So he can hide in that spot under his chin and not deal with the consequences of being stripped bare, even if it was for a moment. Out of breath and more serious than he’ll ever be, “You're not tellin’ anyone about that.” "

And my dalpop playlist - i don't think it's too legible but I like listening tooooooo

[lighthouseas]

"just ask chatgpt" can you think for yourself. please. please can you just think for yourself for one second

[leonardalphachurch]

i voted no for every character on that blog besides price and caboose ftr

[mercuryislove]

I miss the days of being a gym rat and the extremely brief moment in time where I could squat two plates