#anonymous prompt

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Jaskier never makes promises. He literally never says the word “promise”, and he swears no oaths.

It’s a subtle quirk. It takes Geralt years to notice. When he points it out, Jaskier says with false levity, “I guess I don’t.”

From the bard’s body language, Geralt can see he doesn’t want to talk about it, so the topic is dropped.

Years later—after Geralt screams his fury at Jaskier—the bard says in a broken voice, “Don’t worry, Geralt. I promise not to bother you anymore.”

The promise sears itself onto Geralt’s soul like a brand. One made of chaos, and he can feel it become binding.

Geralt whips around, but Jaskier was gone.

There are a few moments of confusion before Geralt realizes what just happened. Jaskier had promised, and that promise was sealed with chaos. Only the Fae have such an ability.

YESSSSSSS i love this Geralt has to track down Jaskier and prove that Jaskier doesn't bother him, and thus the promise is still ringing true, even as they continue traveling together

[ejzah]

Any chance you or someone else could write a steamier version of the densi scene in Raven & the Swans if nell didn’t interrupt them and if sam and callen weren’t listening?

A/N: So, I’ll never turn down an opportunity to write Densi romance. However, I couldn’t completely ignore the reality of their situation. I also felt compelled to change the actual scene and dialogue a bit outside the prompt. With that in mind, I hope you still enjoy this.

***

We’re Method

Kensi lets out a yelp of surprised laughter when Deeks tosses her onto the bed. They’d decided to play a pair of bickering newlyweds, but she hadn’t expected him to go this far. Especially when no one else was in the room.

Deeks apologizes, offering her a hand, then immediately swings her around, and back onto the bed. From there, it gets a little crazy. She pulls him down next to her, he flips her over, and they roll back and forth several times.

Somehow Kensi ends up with her thighs clamped around Deeks’ neck, holding him in place.

“How do you like that?” she asks, taunting him.

“I mean, I’ve been in worse positions,” Deeks observes in a slightly strained voice. It’s then that she realizes his proximity, and what this might look like if anyone were to walk in. She remembers they decided to go without comms for now. So no one is listening in, thankfully.

“If I die, it’s going to be really hard to explain to Hetty,” Deeks continues. “And HR.”

With every word, she feels the slight warmth of his breath through the thin material of her dress pants. It sends a more intense heat through her entire body. Despite his precarious position, he grins up at her, his smile mischievous, even delighted.

She wants him, she realizes. She’s spent so long denying any feelings and her attraction to him. Now he’s right there.

Ignoring the warning voice in her head, Kensi unwinds her legs, releasing Deeks, but before he can get up, she wraps her arms around his shoulders, dragging him towards her. She sees Deeks eye flash with surprise and he gets out a mostly unintelligible word before she presses her lips against his.

She lands a little off center and too hard and Deeks freezes, his lips still against hers. Just as she’s beginning to think she made a terrible mistake, Deeks moves. His hands cup the back of her head, drawing her closer, his lips parting over hers.

Kensi makes a keening noise she’d be embarrassed by in any other circumstance. At the moment, all she can think is that she should have done this so much sooner. Because kissing Deeks like this, without any pretense or fear is electric

Twining her leg around his hip in a desperate need to get closer, she curls her fingers in Deeks’ hair. Deeks pulls back with a gasp and his pupils are wide and lips already a little red and swollen.

“Are we gonna…?” he trails off, nodding between them.

In lieu of answering, Kensi runs the back of her fingers along his jaw, smiling up at him. Then slowly and deliberately leans in to kiss him again. This time, the kiss is more leisurely. She takes the time to explore his mouth and savor the taste of him.

Deeks grasps her waist, the heat of his palms emanating through her clothes, and suddenly she needs to feel as much of him as she can. She tugs at his jacket, stripping it off him, then attacks the buttons of his shirt. As soon as she has a few buttons undone, she smooths both palms over his chest, relishing in touching him without any restrictions.

Following her lead, Deeks pulls her shirt free of her pants while sucking a path along her neck. Kensi moans and arches into him, holding his head in place as he moves lower.

Bit by bit, they reveal more skin, their breath loud and sharp in the quiet room. Kensi’s just reaching for Deeks’ waistband when a sharp knock has them both jerking apart.

Deeks looks to the door, then back down at Kensi. “Damn,” he mutters. His hair hangs in his eyes and he looks perfectly messy.

The tiniest part of her wants to ignore the knocking, and pull Deeks back down to finish what they started.

“Rain check?” she says instead.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he whispers back, leaning down to drop a gentle kiss on her lips.

***

Thanks for the prompt!

[drearydaffodil]

Days go by where they don't talk to me, it hurts a lot. (This can either be just me venting, or a very bad poetry prompt.)

The only bad poetry prompts are the ones I don't get! Your poem follows. 💜

[alexihollis]

hello, I have a couple of foods for thought/maybe prompts that I just wanted to share with you. Please explore as many(or none lol) as you’d like. Thank you for being one of our best warriors

1)Cochise being either a subway surfer, or a musician in her spare time

2)Fox simply gets arrested at union square. She and Ajax share a jail cell for the rest of the night

3)When Ajax says to Mercy on Quiet Girls,

Hey yo, what the fuck?

Since when is she with us?

Go back to the gutter with your late night…dates

What did she mean? Is that a dig at Mercy just being Sully’s girlfriend or something else? What’s Mercy history? Does it impact any of her relationships?

4)why did Ajax bring a bottle of gin to a dangerous summit? Fox says “X on that bottle of gin, you weren’t supposed to bring any liquor, you aren’t supposed to drink on duty, period” during track fire

5)Swans thoughts either during the confrontation Luther on the beach or when she sees Mercy follow the group onto the train after the confrontation with the orphans

6)someone keeps stealing Rembrandt’s paint cans

7) Cleon meeting Cyrus for the first time

8) Cowgirl gets a tattoo

So. I did number 8.

It may have been a bit different than you expected.

Mark of an Angel

I will be returning have no fear!

[ohjohnnysblog]

Old Love

[kylo-wrecked]

"You couldn't be humble if you tried. You're a cad and I never want to talk to you again." (Music!Ben)

{ from this meme }

— ☾ —

The top video result for Ben Solo is interview footage from a talk show that doesn't exist anymore. Its upload stamp dates ten years back, it's grainy, and it begins with a media player title card that thanks the viewer for watching.

The interview is difficult to find in full, and its best-known moments, the memes, come from this clip. It's called 'Ben Solo - humble.'

In it, four members of KoR sit together in a row, in black, in various states of lackadaisicalness. Brothers sharing the backseat. This is the first time, the first-ever footage, of the Knights of Ren, in public, on live broadcast, without their helmets.

The host leans in and says, "Now—Kylo? Is that right?" The audience laughs. The night's running joke is how no one recognizes the Knights of Ren without their trademark masks.

"You're the quiet kid. Did you ever imagine you'd become so famous so fast?"

The camera pulls in on Ben's face. Represented here is a softer face, a younger face. A smile that doesn't seem so sure it wants to be there.

"No," he says shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. "No, I kinda sat out that race, actually."

"But you're here! You've made it. Now, come on, lad. What about you? What's in it for Kylo?"

The audience whoops. Ben licks his teeth.

"Just the music," he says. "Always the music."

"Oh, he's a good bloke. Really? Always?"

"Always."

~

He picks up right away. Confused and startled by this eventuality, your well-rehearsed tirade kicks off with less confidence and steam than you imagined.

The first thing Ben says when you've finished is, "Cad? Did you call me a cad?"

You can picture him in his space gray loft. The one with the exposed walls and slated, triangular windows that make his living room look like a desert terrarium. You can see him slanted against those windows like he was photographed in Architectural Digest. You picture him leaning and grinning. You know exactly what grin he's wearing.

"What is this? A Howard Hawks joint?"

You don't know who that is—thankfully, you recognize the impeccable impression, the phrasing, and the diction of Cary Grant. You may not mean to, but you laugh. You laugh, and Ben doesn't. This is his power.

"When you never want to talk to someone again,” he says slowly, “don't you just... stop?"

You don't answer. And he doesn't bother waiting for the answer that doesn't come.

"If you feel that way," he begins, in a singsong voice, magnified and softly buzzing, so you know how close his mouth is to the receiver. "If you feel that way, why're you calling?"

You were calling because you hoped you'd hear some part of him shatter. All you hear is him crossing the room, and you just know he's wearing shoes on those forty-eight thousand dollar floors. There isn't a surface or a person between L.A. and New York he hasn't or wouldn't walk on. He lives for and to ruin. Price is of no issue.

"Did you think?" The breath of his body reclining, falling back on the good leather. "Did you think I was gonna cry? Do you want to try and make me? God, you're so fucking cute. You should come up and see me some time. Get off on it in person. Lick the tears straight from the face. What do you say?"

You say… you would say…

In these moments between his hailing rhetorics and each pump of your heart, your mouth goes dry, and you can’t swallow, and you end the call so you can breathe without him hearing.

You hate how the things he says make your insides squirm. You hate the way you love to hate him, and you hate how he knows.

You should have just said fuck you.  

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Words to describe blood without saying crimson or blood?

Blood—the fluid that circulates in the heart, arteries, capillaries, and veins of a vertebrate animal carrying nourishment and oxygen to and bringing away waste products from all parts of the body

Arterial - relating to or being the bright red blood present in most arteries that has been oxygenated in lungs or gills

Body fluid - a fluid or fluid secretion (such as blood, lymph, saliva, semen, or urine) of the body

Carmine - a vivid red

Cerise - a moderate red

Claret - a dark purplish red

Clot - a coagulated mass produced by clotting of blood

Cruor - obsolete: the clotted portion of coagulated blood

Ensanguine - to make bloody; crimson

Geranium - a vivid or strong red

Gore - blood, especially: clotted blood

Hematic - of, relating to, or containing blood

Hematoid - resembling blood

Hemoglobin - an iron-containing respiratory pigment of vertebrate red blood cells that consists of a globin composed of four subunits each of which is linked to a heme molecule, that functions in oxygen transport to the tissues after conversion to oxygenated form in the gills or lungs, and that assists in carbon dioxide transport back to the gills or lungs after surrender of its oxygen

Hemoid - resembling blood

Ichor - a thin watery or blood-tinged discharge

Incarnadine - bloodred

Juices - the natural fluids of an animal body

Maroon - a dark red

Plasma - the fluid part of blood, lymph, or milk as distinguished from suspended material

Puce - a dark red

Ruddle - red ocher (i.e., a red earthy hematite used as a pigment)

Russet - a reddish brown

Sanguine - bloodred; consisting of or relating to blood

Scarlet - any of various bright reds

Vermilion - any of various red pigments

Word Lists ⚜ Blood ⚜ Exsanguination ⚜ On Blood ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

Completely inspired by the steamer DamianxDanny AU

So Dani has been traveling the world for four years at this point, learning about culture.

A big part about culture is music

So Dani learned to sing and play instruments from around the world.

And she gets good.

So at the Casper High senior bonfire for graduating seniors and family (Danny and the crew) someone records her singing a mix of traditional songs from countries around the world and posts it under an anonymous account.(probably Wes)

And it goes viral.

People are begging Dani to do a song from their country.

So Dani makes an account for her singing. She wears a mask though, so no one knows her identity (it would be kinda hard to explain her lack of legal papers). The account quickly explodes in popularity.

Eventually Bruce finds it and immediately begins to track her down because the anonymous singer the Ghost (the fan base calls themselves spirits) has Lazarus green eyes.

But because Dani has no legal papers, they most he can find is Danny Fenton, who is male, 18, freshly in collage, and has the singing voice of a dump truck. He’s differently not the Ghost.

Damian notices his father struggling with a case, and decides to help by watching each and every one of the Ghosts video.

And, somewhere along the way, he ends up falling a little.

Now he wants to find Ghost to take her on a date, not interrogate her.

One day, Ghost stops posting.

The entire world is demanding for answers, enough so that the JLA gets involved.

The only person who has any information is the new leaguer Red Huntress, vigilante that protected her town for years with the help of a ghost named Phantom (who had also vanished during that time)

Dani and Danny are in major shit.

The GIW found her and Danny and promptly vanished them off the face of the earth.

The only person who has any idea that they are not dead is Duke Thomas, who was on a call with his childhood friend Danny when he and his sister was taken.

Duke Thomas is currently on the run from the GIW because he know that Danny’s and Dani Fenton didn’t die in the FentonWorks Lab explosion

[promptsbytaurie]

you don't have to do this but maybe some touch starved character B and character A who's love language is physical touch (if that makes sense)

my heart melts for that

of course!! sorry this took a while, it's been buzzing around in my brain forever !!

touch starved A + physical touch B

quotes:

"Is this okay?" "... Please."

"I just feel so empty and aching all the time and—are you hugging me?"

"What do you need?"

"I don't deserve it, I don't deserve this."

"Oh, love. Come here."

"They flinch away why I try and touch them but I see them hugging themselves when they're scared. I don't know how to help." "They'll come to you when they're ready."

"Can I have a hug?"

"Tell me whenever you get overwhelmed, okay?"

"Please, I promise I'll be better, please—" "I'm not going to hurt you, I swear."

prompts:

A is touch starved but B just thinks they don't like physical affection

5 times A flinched away from B's touch and one time they asked for it

The only touch A has ever had is violent—until B

A is the toughest, most resilient person B knows. It isn't until one vulnerable moment that B realizes how much A just needs to be held

A thinks they don't deserve to be touched and B works very hard to prove them wrong

B touches so casually (arms over shoulders, holding hands, hugging from behind) and A doesn't know how to handle it

more:

A - they feel guilty for not being able to give B what they want - feeling hollow, like their body is empty up to their skin - buzzing - electricity when they're touched - they both hate and love physical contact - emotionally drained - they shrink away from touch but they long for it from afar

B - they feel guilty for wanting something A can't give them - always repressing the urge to hug, hold, or even just touch A - can always tell when A wants it but won't give in to themselves - longing - prioritizes A's needs over their own - maybe doesn't allow themselves to feel alone too

i hope this helps!! thank you for the request, it was really fun to think about :]]]

[mibexe]

It gets easier. ⊱ꕤ⊰ This was drawn for the hkvthm gotcha for gaza over on twitter!!!

Speedpaint under the cut!

[taintandviolent]

“Your moans will wake everyone up and I’m oddly fine with that.” with Eddie pls?🥲🙏🏻😫

warnings: smut, fingering, unprotected sex! a/n: god, I love writing for eddie. thank you for the request, pookie!!

It's bitterly cold outside, a frost laying over the town of Hawkins like a shadow, but nestled inside Wayne Munson's trailer, it's heated. Sweaty, sexy, and heated. The sounds of Eddie's chosen music - Dio, this evening - fill the small bedroom in the back of the trailer. He'd picked something with heavy vocals, as a pathetic attempt to drown out the sounds of debauchery that were going to occur. As soon as his nimble fingers found your clit, he realized that all attempts were in vain; you were simply too loud.

"Your moans will wake everyone up..." Eddie's face lights up brightly with a cheeky smile, showcasing his pretty teeth. "...aaaand I'm oddly fine with that."

He's balls deep inside of you and telling that you're too loud? What does he expect!? Eyes rolling back in your head, you let out another one as he ruts into you, never losing his rhythm despite the commentary. He's incredible at multitasking; you can hardly form your next words, feeling completely consumed by his unabashed passion. Ready to be completely mortified that you're fucking his nephew in his trailer while he's present, you muster up the ability to speak again. "Euuh.... mmm...! Fuck, Eddie.... Everyone? Who is everyone? I thought Wayne was gone..."

Eddie chuckles above you and nods, reassuring you that Wayne is, in fact, gone for the weekend. "The entire park, sweetheart. You have any idea how loud you are?"

Bashfully, you look up into his chocolatey eyes, briefly admiring the way that the light creates a halo in his fluffy hair, and then, proceed to clamp your hand over your mouth, silencing any further moans.

"Oh no," he starts, ringed fingers wrapping effortlessly around your wrist before tugging it down towards your chest, opening up the gateway again. "Just because I mentioned it doesn't mean I want you to stop, princess. It's simply... an observation."

Eddie takes a breath, and using that same hand, he brings it between your bodies, immediately finding your swollen, sensitive clit. The way his body hits you with every thrust is decidedly enough, but when his fingers start circling the bundle of nerves, you can't help but let out another shrill moan. He knows this, and intends to milk you of every single moan, whimper, mewl, and whine you have in you. As white hot pleasure consumes you, flames of passion licking at your center, your fingers claw at the sheets below you, knotting in them tightly.

"S-sorry," you whimper, feeling suddenly shy.

Eddie shakes his head, almost regretting that he's said anything. Really, to him, knowing that he can make you this loud is a gift that he'll treasure until the end of his days.

He thrusts his hips hard, bottoming out. Another throaty groan tumbles off your lips. "Ah-ah. Be as loud as you want, baby. It's music to my ears."

Music... to his ears? That was saying something.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

I think it would be neat if Geralt had synaesthesia.

It would make his sensitive senses even more overwhelming, and it would add a new layer to how he views Jaskier's voice.

At first, the garish, distracting colors are worse than the voice itself. How does someone's voice have so many different colors? Why do they have to be so bright and eye-catching?

Then, they just become a part of his world. An extra layer to existence.

But, after the mountain, his world is literally less colorful. More dreary.

THIS IS SUCH AN OLD ASK I'M SO SORRRYYYY I like the idea of him finding his Jaskier and getting his colors back 🥺

[ejzah]

Can you write a fanfic about what if the team discovered Deeks was a cop before his and Sam's jail scene. Like what if Kensi and Deeks actually fought in the house, but during that exact moment, Beale finds out and drops the bomb on Kensi and Deeks and that leads to a whole new story. I hope you'll please consider it.

A/N: Oh, Anon, I am so sorry that this has been sitting in my inbox for so long. I changed a few little things to fit the scenario. I’m not sure if this was intended to lead to a multi-chap fic, but for now I’ll leave it at this scene.

***

A Different Path

Kensi had never met anyone as infuriating as Jason Wyler in her life. From the moment he’d walked over from a punching bag in the MMA gym, he’d questioned her, smirked her, and generally made a nuisance of himself. At the moment, he was impeding her ability to gather evidence. She almost hoped he turned out to be involved in Zuna’s death so she could have the pleasure of arresting him.

“Or maybe you found what you were looking for before I got here,” he was saying, not playing into Kensi’s attempt to flirt. “Maybe you found some cash. Maybe you should empty those pockets.” He stared her down, not moving any closer, and she didn’t know if it was the intensity of his blue eyes or the implicit threat, but she felt a shiver move up her spine.

“Don’t touch me,” she warned, discreetly reaching for her gun tucked in her waistband.

“Then show me you didn’t take anything from of mine or Zuna’s.” He tilted his head to the side, challenging her just a hint of a smirk playing at his lips, though his eyes remained tight and wary. She resisted the urge to move back.

“Or I could punch you in the face,” she offered from between her teeth, not quite managing the light tone she’d intended. He fully grinned at that.

“You can try,” he drawled. Kensi tensed, caught between kicking him somewhere that would be sure to shut him up or pulling her gun on him.

Her phone buzzing insistently in her pocket, and after a moment of consideration she answered, keeping an eye on Jason Wyler the entire time. He had moved back ever so slightly, still close, in her space.

“Let me guess, that’s another boyfriend you sent dirty pictures to,” Wyler said, tilting his head to the side in a way that made her want to snap back at him. She didn’t know how he could joke and stare her down at the same time.

“It’s my boss. Beale, this isn’t a good time,” she hissed as she held the phone to her ear. She was a little surprised that Wyler expected her explanation or her answering at all.

“Kensi, are you with Jason Wyler?” Eric asked, a note of tension in his voice that had her reaching for her gun again. Wyler watched her just as warily, his hand creeping behind his back too.

“Yes,” she responded shortly.

“Ok, we were right, he’s not actually Jason Wyler.” She gripped the butt of her gun at Eric’s confirmation. “He’s an LAPD detective.”

“Wait, can you repeat that?” She must have heard Eric wrong. There was no way the sketchy guy in front of her was a cop.

“He’s an LAPD Detective named Marty Deeks. Hetty wants you to stand down immediately,” Eric repeated, emphasizing the last part.

“Got it, thanks,” she said distractedly, hanging up.

“That wasn’t your boss, was it?” Wyler—Deeks asked.

“No, and you’re not Jason Wyler. You’re an LAPD Detective.” His mouth dropped open slightly at her answer, then faster than she had thought possible, he had his gun aimed directly at her.

“Wait, stand down detective,” she said slowly. Raising her hands above her waist, she resisted the instinct to attack. “I’m a federal agent with NCIS.” She expected the usual question about the agency, but instead recognition crossed his face, and he relaxed every so slightly.

“Let me see your badge,” he requested, and Kensi retrieved her wallet from her other back pocket. He took it with his free hand, eyes roving over her picture and the accompanying information for several seconds.

Despite her annoyance at the situation, she couldn’t help but approve of his caution. It would be stupid to take her at her word.

Apparently satisfied, he snapped the wallet closed, and handed it back. “Special Agent Kensi Blye. I knew you didn’t look like one of Danny’s girls. Sorry about almost shooting you.”

“Well, I almost kicked you, so I’d say we’re even.”

He snorted at that, his mouth quirking up in a half smirk.

“So, Kensi Blye, care to tell me why you’re screwing up my undercover operation?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve been under for months.”

“That’s impressive. Unfortunately, my team has been tasked with investigating Daniel Zuna’s death,” Kensi explained. “I’m afraid that’s going to take priority over whatever you’re involved in.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Deeks said confidently. “Come on, my boss is going to wanna talk to your boss.”

God, he was infuriating. Kensi had to fight against the inexplicable desire to smile as he headed for the door. She could tell he was going to be trouble.

***

A/N: I hope this was ok and not too different from canon events.

Thanks for the prompt!

[goodlucktai]

could you please do 29 for dialouge prompts, leo and donnie?

dialogue prompts

29. “Tell me where it hurts, and be specific.”

x

When they were little, Donatello’s twin was his translator. 

Donnie was the last of the turtles to start talking—though the first to start reading and writing and dismantling kitchen appliances—and no amount of coercion or bribery or outright begging was enough to get a single word out of him in English or Japanese before he was good and ready. 

Splinter was in over his head already just by having four unplanned children to raise who were not even the same species as him. He fretted about his sons’ health and their development in those early years, and had absolutely no one he could turn to for regular parenting advice, let alone advice on what was and was not normal for mutant turtle children. 

He tells the story now with a rueful good humor granted only by hindsight and a decade and a half of distance, but at the time, Donatello refusing his second meal in a row while blinking silently in face of his father’s increasingly worried questions probably would have driven Splinter to tear his fur out if not for the contribution made by Donnie’s talkative striped shadow. 

“It’s the, uh, the red things, daddy,” Leo piped up. “He doesn’t like those.” 

Splinter blinked at him, and then down at the plate Donnie was refusing to so much as look at it. 

“The tomatoes?” he said. 

“Tomatoes,” Leo parroted. “They’re hard outside and squishy inside. He doesn’t like things like that. And they touched everything else so all of it is no good now!”

Never having considered that texture, of all things, could be the issue—and kicking himself for it—Splinter scrambled a fresh pair of eggs for his stubborn little softshell. He skipped the cherry tomatoes, and sliced a bell pepper instead that he made sure to put on the opposite side of the portioned plastic plate. 

Donnie sniffed his fresh plate of plain eggs suspiciously, but it passed his inspection. He crunched into a piece of bell pepper so eagerly that he must have been hungry. Splinter sank back in his chair with an exhale that left him feeling like a deflated balloon. 

Leo, eating the discarded tomatoes out of Donnie’s original breakfast, giggled at him. He was the first of Splinter’s babies to start speaking, and the sound of his bright voice tripping eagerly over clumsy human words rarely failed to coax a smile out of his father. 

“Thank you, baby,” he said, poking Leo on the edge of his beak and earning himself another peal of bubbly laughter. “I’m glad one of us speaks Purple’s language or I might have set us up for failure big-time.”

“‘Course I do! ‘Cause we’re twins!” Leo said, with only half an idea what the word meant, but happy for any reason to be one of a pair with his best friend. Donnie knew very well what the word meant and simply nodded along, because he was happy, too. 

Now that they’re older, and Donatello no longer needs a translator, he finds himself returning the favor instead. Leo is far from nonverbal—Leo talks too much—but he hardly ever actually says anything. He can pontificate and harangue and lecture to lengths of absolute absurdity without giving a single word of substance away that he doesn’t want to give away. 

Donnie can read him like a book. Like one of his favorite books that he doesn’t actually have to read, because he knows every page by heart. 

The summer after the world didn’t end, Donnie’s twin becomes someone unfamiliar. 

He’s self destructive in ways that aren’t immediately obvious. He seeks out things that scare him, lingering above the death drop an extra second even though he’s been afraid of heights since he was fourteen. 

It’s obvious that he’s trying to train himself out of weakness. No more childish fears, no more lazy Sunday mornings, no more silly Nardo. 

Raph and Mikey have clocked it, too, in their own ways. At first Raph was pleasantly surprised when Leo beat him to the dojo for training, ribbing him amicably when he was also the last to leave. But then Leo started turning down Mario Kart tournaments and ninja tag in favor of shutting himself away and working working working to correct an internal ugliness that just doesn’t exist. Mikey’s used to being the exception to every rule, used to arms opening for him wherever he goes, and the way his sweet, sunny smile slips every time Leo talks around joining him on the sofa for Kitchen Nightmares reruns—or explains away why he’s skipping dinner—is one of the worst things Donnie’s ever seen. 

At the very least, Leonardo doesn’t lie to Donatello’s face. He’s stopped looking him in the eye altogether. 

You’re not going anywhere without me, Donnie thinks at him, ready to dig in his heels and fight like hell. 

It’s hard to say how long it would have gone on, but one late night Leo limps home from a solo patrol and Donnie is waiting for him, arms folded, tolerance for foolishness nonexistent. 

“What, are you tracking me?” Leo jokes half-heartedly. And then, when Donnie doesn’t blink, he adds, “Wait, actually?”

“Don’t waste my time with questions we both know the answer to,” Donnie says, and points Leo directly towards the medbay. Leo, who had been angled toward the bathroom instead, likely because he can close the door and suffer in private with no one the wiser, sighs loudly and course-corrects. 

The overhead lights in the medbay hum to life when Donnie flips the switches. Leo looks over his shoulder to gauge how far those lights have traveled past the open door, restless with wondering if he’s going to have to save face in front of someone else. 

All of this? All this behavior? Donnie hates this. 

Larger-than-life Leonardo seems smaller as he boosts himself up onto the edge of the bed. The infirmary is the one place he never puts on airs, the one place he takes seriously because his family’s health and safety has never once been a punchline to him. He peels off all his false layers at the door. He’s back to not meeting Donnie’s eyes. 

“Tell me where it hurts, and be specific,” Donatello says. 

“Your bedside manner could use some work,” Leonardo replies. His attempt at wily good humor limps along a lot like he had limped through the front door, like the least funny thing in the world. “That’s why between the two of us I’m the team medic.”

“And I’m two minutes from pulling the fire alarm and making this a house party,” Donnie says frankly. His tone isn’t gentle, isn’t quite angry. He’s somewhere in the middle, gentleness and anger fighting for the spot that affection has never once surrendered and never once will. 

He hates the way his twin’s eyes get wet, staring down at his own knees, knuckles stark white and standing out like a string of pearls where his hands are bunched in the thin blanket he’s sitting on. He hates that it’s come to this, the quiet of midnight in the medbay, one of the brightest lights in Donnie’s life dimmed and miserable and so clearly struggling. It’s laughable that Leo really thought he could have hidden it forever. 

Donnie sits beside him on the bed and says, “What if I quit?”

The non-sequitur takes Leo by surprise. He was clearly expecting a full frontal assault and glances sideways at Donnie briefly. 

“Quit what?”

“My bad, I should have been more specific,” Donnie allows. “I meant, what if I quit being a ninja? I have better things I could be doing, and I don’t like getting hurt.” Leo is staring at him fully now, totally bewildered. Flabbergasted, even. It melts some of the sternness Donnie has been careful to shore up for this conversation. “Would you love me less?” he asks. 

It would have been kinder if Donnie had slapped him. “Don’t say that,” Leo says, barely any air behind it. 

“Are you more capable than I am?” Donnie steamrolls on. “Are you better than me?”

“Of course not. I don’t think—I didn’t say—”

“Then why do you have to be perfect if I don’t?” Donnie presses the advantage ruthlessly. “Why aren’t you allowed to struggle and doubt and spectacularly fuck up every now and then without raking yourself over the coals for it?” 

Leo glances over at the door automatically, like Raph is going to be summoned by the bad word. He’s sixteen, he’s just sixteen, Donnie wants to scream it loud enough that those resistance fighters in Casey’s future could hear him, the ones who thought it was a halfway decent idea to put a child in charge. 

Earlier Donnie thought that Leo looked smaller here. Now he thinks he can tell by looking how much weight his twin has lost since June. There’s a deficit of Leonardo in this world and his whole family is feeling it keenly. 

Raph wants to scoop Leo off the sofa when he stays up too late and tuck him into bed, wants to listen to Leo filling the comms with chatter on those nights when patrol stretches long and dull. Raph misses his little brother, the gossipy, gangly, growing up little turtle that Raph used to be allowed to carry everywhere.

Mikey wants to bicker over who gets to play Sonic in Smash Bros and eat cookies while they’re still hot from the oven with the person he admires so much, who taught him all the best cheats in Smash Bros and that fresh sugar cookies in the falling apart stage, pre-icing, are better than ones that have cooled. 

‘Sometimes you gotta get burned to get results,’ nine-year-old Leo had announced, but he was always the one who lifted the cookies off the sheet pan, he never let Mikey burn his fingers.  

That goofy, clever kid who was always getting them all into trouble and talking their way out of it again is worth a thousand made-up Master Leonardos. 

Leo keeps his face lowered, shoulders hunched, because he knows what he’ll see if he scrapes together the courage to meet Donnie’s gaze. He’ll see the love blazing in his twin’s face like one of those digital billboards towering above Times Square, and somehow he’s convinced himself he doesn’t deserve it. 

Donnie doesn’t give a damn what Leo has decided he deserves. Donnie’s going to love him anyway, on purpose, whether he likes it or not. If Leo wants to grow up so badly, then he can stop acting like a kid pushing vegetables around on his plate and swallow the truth. 

It’s okay if he doesn’t grow up yet. They can be kids awhile longer. It’ll be like when they were babies, when Donatello would rather go hungry than stomach certain foods. Leo never let Donnie sit alone at the breakfast table, keeping him cheerful, babbling company, even when their brothers had moved off to play. 

This time Leo is the picky eater, willing to go hungry and sit alone at the table. But Donnie learned from the best. He's returning the favor.

Donnie isn’t going anywhere without Leo, either.

[alexihollis]

if you’re still taking requests, can I ask for a sort of follow up fic to “the people we leave behind” where the warriors withdraw and spend mercy’s trust fund money on gang stuff obvs but have enough to spend a bit on themselves ? like art supplies, going out, anything you figure fits these guys- having a nice day yk. I like the idea of them having a ton of money even briefly to dream- that line where Rembrandt had stars in her eyes about summer camp made me want to cry

also i agree w/ other anon, thank you for feeding the warriors fandom !! seriously you’ve gotten me so invested in these characters

I hope this lives up to expectations!!!!

Thank you for all your kind words, they mean a lot.

And also - 100% up for requests, they are awesome I love them

[th3rsher]

if you still need prompts - my favorite stobotnik era is pre movie 1! you could draw them on a mission together before the silly blue hedgehog was in the picture. or literally anything that establishes their relationship before the events of the first movie haha. feel better soon! 🩷

i love this prompt OMG!! also MAYBE my favorite era but they all come in pretty close. i’d like to do more involving this idea but here’s some doodles

AND THANK YOU you’re so kind🙏