#autism is strong in this one

[bedforddanes75]

smh Filth here...

this isnt good enough for me to post on ao3 have it here instead. 18+ and stuff. ok anyway dont tell me if this sucks just leave and dont ever speak again

back fic? george doesnt wanna think and matty likes georges back. no im not projecting what do you mean. warning (technically) Unfinished and bad and idk man just read and again if u dislike (and i find out about it) then DIE im comign to get you. listne to pink floyd and chiiiillll the fuck out IM SO STRESSED i hate posting so much i cant stop speaking im trying to soften the blow (no blowjobs happen) but like i dont know Girl someone get me a gun I REALLY WANT A GUN oh my god OKok ko koko kok ok kok ok ok ok ok juts GO there its'heere

He gets George laid on his front, face pressed right into the pillows and chest fighting to expand under his weight. George keeps making these quiet, almost pathetic noises, whimper-esque, and delicate, and Matty can tell he’s fighting not to grind into the mattress.

“You can make yourself feel good, darling. Go on.”

George responds immediately with the shaky movement of his hips, and a relieved moan, goosebumps rising.

There’s nothing between them now, George already stretched out and far gone, his only thoughts being of Matty and Matty and Matty and Matty. Who is Matty to deny him that pleasure? He’s in awe at how someone can be so beautiful, staring at George’s back like it’s the sun, and it might as well be, because he’s radiating heat like a fire, so desperate to be touched and to feel good that the only outlet is there. George moves his hips slowly at first, and he’s so overwhelmed he thinks he might come just from that, the friction from the sheets more than enough for him.

But he wants Matty.

Matty runs a cold finger down the length of his spine, reverent and appreciative, and George shivers, the motion pulling another quiet noise from him. It’s silent, bar their breathing, and the rustling of sheets, but Matty’s heart is beating so fast that he doesn’t even notice. George isn’t trying to speak, not trying to beg for anything, because he knows if he tries, all that’ll come out is something garbled and stupid, but he doesn’t care, because Matty isn’t making him do any of that today, he just touches and pleases and makes him feel like he’s in heaven.

It isn’t long before Matty’s leaning down over him, letting himself press against George from behind, and whispering things down his neck.

“You want me to make you come? Want me to fuck you, darling?” And George might just cry. He does want it, but he just cannot form the words. Matty doesn’t make him, but when he doesn’t make any move to get off and start properly touching George, George knows that he won’t do anything until he does. He usually forces George to speak when they do it like this, makes him blush and whine and George lets him and loves it, but this time, he’s letting George do things in his own time, pressure all gone, (except in his groin.)

He’s got his hands on George’s waist, now leaning back just to admire him, and George can’t wait any longer. He tries to speak, just the word please, but it doesn’t come out right, and he’s just so desperate that he can’t think to correct himself.

“Just let me look at you a bit, you’re so gorgeous.” Matty doesn’t sound like he’s aware of the fact he exists anymore, so wrapped up in how beautiful George is that time and space no longer accept him as a being, he is simply a conscience left to its own devices, floating around and latching onto this angelic figure beneath where he should be. “Pretty,” he breathes, “So pretty,” again. He’s still drawing lines on George with his nails, like he’s tracing the muscles and all the marks made over the years.

George tries to keep his breathing steady, content with where he is but simultaneously needing more like he needs air, like it’s his only source of life, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He doesn’t mind, really, he’s just happy to be touched, because every contact with Matty feels better than anything he’s ever taken, and he can’t imagine feeling any better than this. There’s static in his head, only just about covering the words he needs to make Matty do anything, and he wishes it wasn’t there, but he loves it so, so much.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Matty whispers eventually, after years and seconds and days and hours and George can’t reply. He wants it more than anything, but he’s so focussed on trying to figure out how to express that, that he can’t do it. A nod is all he can muster up, but he knows that Matty won’t let him just do that, he needs words, proper, full words. Then, there it is, “I need you to tell me, sweet. Words.”

He’s moved further down George’s body by now, and George didn’t even realise it was happening, but he’s pressing kisses to the dimples at the base of George’s spine, so he can’t complain. Not one bit.

Then, he moves drastically lower, kisses the very top of the line between his legs, just where the fat of his [ass] starts to rise, where his thighs turn from muscle to something soft, and he just leaves his face there for a while. He’s got his chin pressed into the middle of George’s thighs, and his hands still all over his back. That makes him speak.

“Please,” he manages, and Matty seems shocked at it.

“‘Please’ what? Need you to use words.”

George can’t, and he almost feels like crying, so desperate it’s making him shake, but he tries again.

All he can do is say, “You,” like a prayer, again, again, and Matty breathes something shaky in return. But he still doesn’t make any effort to move, just strokes the back of one of George’s arms. “Please, Matty.” It feels like they’re the only words he knows, now, really.

“Just need you to tell me what you want. I’ll do it, just tell me.”

Matty was always careful not to push boundaries and to be extra nice when George got like this, he wouldn’t push anyway, but he treats George like an ornament when he’s like this. George loves it. He likes being told he’s beautiful and being allowed to not think and just feel and feel and feel. It’s nice. It’s the best.

“You. Matty. Please.” Maybe they are the only words he knows, and he doesn’t care – they’re the only words that are important.

If Matty couldn’t understand it from that, he doesn’t know what he could’ve, but, that’s a useless thought, because he’s nodding against George, whispering “Okay.”

“Tell me if you want me to do anything else. Anything you want, sweet. Do anything. Squeeze my hand if you want me to stop.”

George nods.

He has to wait a while, Matty making sure he won't hurt George if he goes too fast, slicking himself up, but then Matty pushes into him gently, gripping George’s hand tightly to keep himself under control, and all of a sudden, it’s all worth it. He’s glad Matty doesn’t have a clear view of his face, then, because he’s bright red, sweating, and he just knows he looks an absolute state. But none of that matters at the moment, because Matty is inside him, and still, and he feels so good, so good, so, so, so, so, so good.

If he thought he couldn’t speak before, that was nothing. He can’t even see, completely taken by the feeling of Matty inside him and touching his back and touching his hair and touching him and touching. Matty is the embodiment of pleasure.

“Feels so good, darling,” Matty breathes, and he must’ve leant down, because George can feel his breath on the back of his neck. He blushes at the praise.

He can’t breathe properly with the pillows covering his face, but he doesn’t have the energy to move, and even the littlest of movements make him completely lose coherency, because Matty’s pressed right up against that spot, and he can’t take it.

Matty thrusts after a while, holding George’s hand and making sure he’s okay every few seconds, but when he does, George sees stars. He’s clearly holding back, because he keeps twitching inside George, and George only wishes he could speak more so he could tell Matty to do what he needs, to take as much as he wants, but, alas, he can’t, and he just settles on letting Matty do what he’s doing now.

The feel of Matty inside him is something he‘ll never get used to, it’s all consuming, feels like he’s turning into a star and becoming something otherworldly and living and dying all at the same time. He can’t word how amazing it is, like knowing he’s safe and letting Matty do whatever he needs, because he knows it’ll be good, and he trusts him.

He, eventually, does start to move properly, but only after multiple weak noises from George, desperate and pleading for anything. Matty grabs his hips, suddenly energised and no longer having the patience to be as gentle as he was, and George loves it. He’ll take whatever Matty gives with an open mouth and a chest left wide open, ribs all snapped to get inside, and this is like a knife made of solid pleasure, because there’s that tiny bit of pain, but it’s covered up by the heat that rushes all down his limbs, right down to his fingers, every single time Matty hits that spot inside him, and then everything is all okay.

Soon enough, Matty’s got his nails in the soft, weak skin of the space just below George’s v-line, digging into the flesh and wanting to claw him apart simply because it’s the only possible way to express how intense everything he’s feeling is. George lets the pain bloom and he whimpers into the bed.

“You okay?” Matty asks, and he nods, enthusiastic and truthful and just wanting more.

That’s all he needs, and he seems to lose some amount of his self control, because he starts fucking into George harder, one hand going back to his waist to keep steady, and the other going to his hair. He doesn’t pull just yet, but George wouldn’t complain if he did, taken by the pleasure. Matty’s nails are pressing slightly, and he welcomes the sting.

The sweet, soft, gentle Matty is almost fully gone now, and he’s changed back into something like what he usually is in just a few minutes, and it’s making George sick with want. He’s tightening his grip on George’s hair more and more by the minute, and by now, it’s starting to sting.

George doesn’t think anything’s going to change after that, just thinks Matty’s going to make him come like this, and he has no reason to think anything else. That is, until Matty yanks George’s head towards himself by the hair, and George can’t help the moan he lets out. It’s loud and undignified, but Matty likes it all the same, apparently, because he holds tighter, and keeps his head there for a second. George thinks he might come just from that, the feel of Matty in his hair, tugging.

Heat ripples from his scalp, and it’s not helped by Matty starting to speak. “Fucking back, so beautiful. Perfect. It’s so pretty, fuck.” He keeps speaking until he finally unthreads his fingers from George’s hair, but George can still feel the ghost of his palm. He fixes his grip properly onto his hips and waist instead.

He’s definitely digging his nails into that pale flesh, and it wouldn’t shock George if, when he moves, there’s skin left beneath them. He’s being gentler than normal, which George is grateful for, because he knows that if Matty did anything that was any more intense than pulling his hair, he’d be coming within a minute of him sinking inside.

He can feel heat building in his stomach, and, all of a sudden, he’s overly aware of the sheets rubbing against himself, hard against them, and he whimpers, eyes squeezing. Matty’s starting to stroke his hair, and ramble.

“You feel so fucking good, Jesus Christ. Fuck, George.” He’s digging his thumb into a space near one of the dimples on George’s back now, almost like he wants it to bruise so he’s got proof of it, like the proof isn’t George’s very existence.

George gets closer a lot sooner than he’d like to, but he just can’t help it, because Matty is telling him how good he feels and how well he’s doing over and over again, and there’s so much happening, like the feel of Matty hitting just where he needs every time and the feel of himself against fabric and the image of what he must look like in his head. It’s all too much. Almost.

He doesn’t realise he’s crying until Matty slows down, taps him, asks if he’s okay, and he just nods, nods like it’s keeping him alive, manages to turn his head enough to the side to say “Please, please, Matty, please,” and then his eyes roll back.

He’s so close, whining and whimpering nonsense and trying to form words to warn Matty, failing, but not caring, because he’s blinded by how good it feels, and Matty isn’t letting up, in fact, he’s fucking him harder, pulling George’s hips into his own with every thrust, determined to make him come.

It doesn’t take long before he’s right on the edge, just needing a tiny bit more, and then Matty fists a hand into his hair once more, and he’s gone. The combination of Matty fucking him so good, with the sharp pain on his scalp, is better than anything he could’ve imagined, and he cries out as he comes, over and over, moaning into the pillows and clenching his fists, begging with completely incoherent noises. Matty keeps moving for a bit, and George doesn’t have the mind to protest, nor does he want to, he’d rather lie in the afterglow and be only half aware of how overstimulated he’s becoming.

He doesn’t really notice when Matty comes, and he doesn’t notice virtually anything else for a while after, either, just lets himself be moved around as Matty tries his best to clean him, trying to manoeuvre him into some position easier to clean from, and not doing very well, because…well, the size of George.

sorry ending Shit possibly all shit but whatever i wrote most of it. enjoy life

[sapphickx]

That right there is the Lasso Way. Now let's talk about the Lasso Way. Can we talk about the Lasso Way please, Ted? I've been dying to talk about the Lasso Way with you all day, okay?

[1800-lemon-boy]

Friendly reminder that a lot of the characters that blatantly show autism traits are overlooked (Will, Jason) or seen as strange/scary (Nico, Leo, Annabeth)

<33

[silvers-not-home]

rewatching double life right now but through jimmys pov and just realized how violently ill rancher duo makes me /aff

like there's no way there's a duo THIS healthy in this series. the whole fucking point of the life series is betrayal and deception and blah blah blah all that jazz but rancher duo never did any of that. they always told eachother their plans, ideas, schemes, where they were going. and even if they didn't cough cough jimmy going into the deep dark cough cough he still came clean and told tango anyways. we have someone who's death is such a staple in the fandom/series that it's become a whole thing and someone who's death you go "oh yeahhh i forgot about that one, how'd he die again?"

they're both so ignored and the fact that they pay so much attention to eachother literally makes me sick to my stomach /hj /aff

like i don't know much about flower husbands but like. i know it probably wasn't.. the healthiest of any of the ships so take my words with a grain of sand here. jimmy was practically invisible to scott no hate love him to death but c!scott IS on my hit list and tango is just so blatantly ignored by the watchers and other members sometimes i literally forget he's there and when i do my autism shoots up like a firework.

jimmy is mocked in a /lh way but we're talking abt their c!versions so that might not be as lighthearted as you think c!jimmy sorry bud so much to the point no one takes him seriously and tango is so forgotten that no one takes him seriously. though they might not be taken seriously when they're together they're still known throughout the server. jimmy has what tango doesn't: patience and less impulsive thinking. and tango has what jimmy doesn't: rage and more tactical thinking.

while tango is going absolutely apeshit over the ranch burning down and everyone is basically taunting him, making him even more upset as if either of them need that jimmy is the one to hold tango back. he doesn't want him rushing in not because they share health and trying to keep himself safe desert duo im looking at you, you toxic bastards /aff but because he genuinely CARES about him. because when they go after scar and grian they want to be prepared and logical about their attacks. he'll still listen and follow through with tangos plan but not when they don't have one, he was so excited to bring the warden to grian and scar because he genuinely believed that they would get revenge the safe way (as safe as you can get anyways)

and when the plan backfired he didn't get mad or upset at tango. he helped him through it with the knowledge they could both die just by one small slip up but damnit if he's gonna take them out he's standing tall next to him.

they never got mad at eachother. not when the plans backfired or when jimmy died and lost all his stuff and had to travel across the whole server just to not get his stuff back or when jimmy went into the deep dark, putting them both in danger or when tango got them both killed in the FIRST EPISODE, activating his curse again (i know it wasn't technically jimmy that died but he still lost a life so i'm counting it anyways shut up)

because grian would've been pissed (talking about character versions still stick with me here) at scar if the roles were swapped, probably would've kept him at their base for the whole damn season actually. but jimmy listened to tango, obviously he was upset but never at tango. he just wanted to know what lead up to that and from that they made a plan.

the difference between team rancher and desert duo is when scars falling grian yells out for him, not because he cares about scars safety but because he cares about his safety.

meanwhile when tangos falling jimmy jumps after him while screaming his name, making sure that if he's going to die it's tangos name staining his tongue and without the selfish intent of keeping himself safe.

because when grain looks into scars eyes he only sees himself. meanwhile when jimmy looks into tangos eyes he sees tango looking back.

[autisticlancemcclain]

Lance gets red around him a lot.

It’s strange.

It’s different from when they first started. (First met? Keith’s not sure. Lance is so insistent that they’ve known each other since they were twelve, but Keith thinks he’d recognise someone like Lance, someone who smiled that brightly and laughed so loud. But he doesn’t, and he doesn’t understand why he doesn’t, so he doesn’t think about it. He pretends in his head that they met saving Shiro and that’s that.) When they first started learning each other (that’s a better way to put it), Lance went red all the time, but Keith knew exactly what that was about, could read the hard set of his jaw and the anger making his dark eyes steely. Sometimes he would grin to himself and make the flush on Lance’s cheeks deepen on purpose; say something incendiary and challenging in the most casual one of voice he could manage, just to watch how furious he got, how indignance straightened his spine and squared his shoulders and made his cheeks glow.

He called Lance Rudolph, once, and he went ballistic. It was the first time he ever won a spar of theirs, and half of that was because Keith was laughing too hard to breathe. To this day no one believes Lance when he insists it happened. (Keith does feel bad about that, a little. Everyone seems to think it was just Lance who egged Keith on in the beginning, just Lance who purposely made things difficult, but Keith is grown enough now to admit that he had as much fun pissing Lance off as anyone else would. Well, grown enough to admit it in his head.)

Keith still makes Lance go red all the time, now. The issue is that he doesn’t know how he does it.

They still compete. Obviously. It’s fun and it’s easy and Keith is a fan of things that are fun and easy. That’s why he’s into demolitions. And pod racing.

But the competition no longer has that flare of genuine rage. Lance himself had admitted it, sniffing pompously after a late night spar and informing Keith that he had, apparently, “sucked all the fun out of hating by being endearing or whatever”. He also mentioned something about Keith’s “stupid fucking big round pouty eyes and depressing backstory”, but Keith doesn’t know what to make of that so he shoves it back into the recesses of his mind like many other things, including the first time someone other than his Pa said they loved him, Shiro’s safety lectures, and any and all calculus lessons he has ever sat through.

(It’s a mess back there.)

Keith, too, can admit that the animosity is gone. He no longer wakes up and hears Lance’s voice and considers drop kicking him into a black hole. Sometimes he even hears Lance’s voice and realises he’s smiling on reflex. Now he and Lance hang out. Voluntarily, and a lot. They spar. They swim. They harass Hunk. They harass Pidge. They harass Shiro. They harass all their friends, really. Sometimes Lance uses manoeuvres he’s learnt in sparring to pin Keith to the ground and force weird products onto his face and hair, dodging Keith’s attempts to bite him, preaching about their cleansing qualities or whatever. Sometimes Keith even does it without hissing and generally being a nuisance.

Sometimes Keith follows Lance quietly to the observation, late at night, and sits with him while he cries. He can’t decide how he feels about those nights. He’s not sure if he’s allowed to think about them outside of when they happen.

In all of this, though, Lance’s ruddy face has stayed pretty common. Keith can excuse it when they’re sparring, because it’s admittedly a lot of cardio, but at the same time Keith doesn’t get that red and he’s way paler than Lance is. He can almost kind of excuse it when they swim, for the same reasons.

He doesn’t get it any other times, though. He doesn’t know why Lance goes red at the most innocuous things, like when Keith tells him his hair smells good or his laugh is pretty or he’s actually really good at that nerdy math game Pidge likes, holy crow, I didn’t know you were that kind of smart. Nerd. He doesn’t understand why Lance goes red when he trips and Keith catches him, ‘cause he’s a big klutz, you’d think he’d be used to it by now (it’s not like Keith is going to let him fall. Well, usually not). He doesn’t get why Lance goes red when Keith compliments him in training, because usually when Lance gets complimented he gets a big head about it and preens for an hour.

It’s just strange.

Mostly, though, it’s not that big of a deal. Maybe Lance is just a blushy kind of person. He’s taken to teasingly calling Lance Red, because it’s better than Rudolph, and also because Lance goes scarlet every time he says it, so it’s kind of like he’s a wizard who can make Lance flush on command. Which is cool. Other than that Keith mostly just pretends it doesn’t happen. They hang out too much for Keith to bother. If he questioned it every time, he would go bananas.

“You have icing smeared on your face,” Keith comments on one such hanging out occasion. (They’re plundering the kitchen for the cupcakes Hunk made and specifically forbade them from touching. But Hunk allegedly broke into Lance’s room last week and stole the last of his toner, whatever the hell that is, so fair’s fair.)

Lance pops the last of the cupcake into his mouth then turns to face him. “Where?”

“Here,” Keith says, tapping the left side of his own chin.

Lance, like a dumbass, makes a swiping motion on the left side of his face, instead of mirroring where Keith touched. He misses the icing entirely.

“Left side,” Keith says, exasperatedly.

Lance scowls at him. “That is the left side.”

“No — the other left.”

“There is no other left! There’s only one left!”

Rolling his eyes, Keith reaches over to wipe the icing off for him. There cannot be any evidence on them, after all. When Hunk has a conniption over his missing cupcakes they must play the plausible deniability card so they can snicker about it later.

He swipes his thumb under Lance’s bottom lip, trying to scrape the icing off with his thumbnail. Lance inhales sharply.

“Sorry,” Keith murmurs, softening his grip. He must have scratched him. The icing didn’t come off, though, so he switches tactics and slides off the counter, shifting so he’s standing in between Lance’s open legs and cradling Lance’s cheek in his palm to tilt his head. He rubs his thumb much softer on the stubborn streak of whipped sugar, and that works a little better. He keeps rubbing until finally Lance’s skin is clear, all the half-dried icing now spread on the pad of Keith’s thumb. He licks it off without thinking.

It’s sweet.

Lance makes a strained whimpering noise. Keith flicks his gaze up to meet his face again and is less surprised than he should be to see a flush glowing across his cheekbones, making his freckles seem much darker than they are. His pupils are dilated so wide they nearly swallow up the brown of his irises, and Keith can’t tell if he’s looking at him or through him.

He sighs heavily. “Dude, do you have a condition?”

It takes Lance a long moment to answer. By the time he finally does, his gaze has moved firmly to his lap, neck bent so that Keith can’t really see his face. His ears are still read.

“I’ve got a fuckin’ heart condition,” he mutters.

Keith furrows his eyebrows. That’s weird. He’s seen Lance’s medical scans before — he’s in the pods a lot. You’d think that kind of thing would be on there.

“It doesn’t show up on your med scans,” Keith points out. “Is it, like, a genetic thing?”

Slowly, Lance picks his head back up, squinting at him for several long moments. Keith begins to squirm.

“You’re actually slow,” Lance says with an almost awed tone of voice. Which is mean. “Like, genuinely, actually slow. I think there are bubbles in your brain.”

“Hey,” Keith protests, pouting. “I help you commit cupcake heists, and this is how you treat me?”

Instead of answering, Lance continues to stare at him. He almost looks bewildered, which does nothing but make Keith more confused.

Eventually he lets out a long, tired sigh. It is not the first time Keith has heard that sigh. That is a sigh he hears when Shiro finds him throwing up his guts after eating a tub of ice cream out of spite. That’s the kind of sigh he hears from Allura when Keith ignores instructions and boulders through the shocks from the invisible maze to get it done faster. That’s the sigh that says I wish I had a trebuchet to strap you to it and release you into the sun. Keith is very familiar with that sigh, although he usually makes it happen on purpose, or at the very least understands how it’s warranted.

Right now he is completely lost.

“I am going to go bother Coran,” Lance says finally, pushing himself off the counter and walking towards the door. “You are not invited. I will talk to you when I want to strangle you less. Goodbye.”

“Bye,” Keith calls out, head tilted in confusion. He watches Lance go until he disappears down the hallways.

“He is so confusing,” he announces to no one, then walks out the kitchen himself.

[spourtneys]

theyre so funny. manspreading x daintily crossed legs a dynamic of all time to me spencer's his little guy they're carrying him around in their pocket so he can see the world

[nerdz-hq]

You know the autism is strong when you can tell which production version a song is just by the instrumental

[dantevhell]

AUTISM AND (THE CONSEQUENCES OF) DEHUMANIZATION

(1): Franz Kafka, "the metamorphosis" ; (2): Ruta Sepetys, "emilia - salt to the sea" ; (3): Susan Sontag, "as consciousness is harnessed to flesh" ; (4): Walton Ford, glepnir ; (5) Mitski, "cop car" ; (6): Franz Kafka, "letters to felice" ; (7): @soapstore ; (8): witch hat atelier, ch 43 ; (9): Olivia Laing, "the lonely city" ; (10): @fagromyzidae

[ukelele-boy]

could you draw litpollo please?

Lit: this sword has taken countless lives, it is my most trusted weapon. It can cut through flesh like butter–

Jo: but this is a sausage. You are using a murder weapon to cut sausage.

[ruthlesslistener]

Having a disability that gives you emotional disregulation is fucking wild bc your default will be to just not feel anything at all and then boom. Suddenly the right stimulus hits and you feel so strongly that its like a physical sickness shaking your bones. Then boom back to feeling nothing at all for no apparent explaination. It's like growing used to the calm quiet dark and then someone sets off a firecracker right next to your face, but when you need to send a flare out to help another you just can't.

[fizby]

i CANNOT be the only one that SAW THE VISION, right.

two very tall very smiley saboteurs that love to hold their hands together deviously like these mfs are mr burns. who happen to want the main character(s) of their game dead (affectionately). who talk with similar sarcasm and have similar mannerisms.

[azucar-skull]

Just You And Me

(written for @tmnt-write-fight for @remedyturtles)

Fandom: Rise of the TMNT (Post movie)

Prompt: Autistic Donnie!!! Literally anything for autistic Donnie. Sensory overload, deep pressure hugs, food issues, the works.

Word Count: 3785

Posted on AO3 too!

-------------------------------------

A fun day at the beach. This was meant to be a fun day at the beach. A moment for the team to get away from the hustle of New York and enjoy a nice day out on a secluded beach where the turtles didn’t have to worry about any stray humans spotting them.

April, Cass, and Sunita were teaching Casey Jr the ropes of volleyball. Mikey was busy burying Raph in the sand and making him a mermaid tail. And Leo was heading out to catch some waves with an abandoned surfboard he found.

Donnie spent a good chunk of the time sitting in the umbrella shade. But the sand is now kicking onto his towel and just…ugh. Donnie is not a fan of sand. It gets everywhere and is a pain in the ass to get rid of. Besides, he’s supposed to be hanging out with his brothers, he promised them that much. The softshell spent the majority of his time in his lab, working endlessly day in and day out. He tried to say no to a beach day but his brothers weren’t having it. So…sigh…

The water seems nice. It is pretty hot out. And being an aquatic turtle, Donnie has no dispute about it. Plus it’d be funny to go underwater and prank Leo by knocking him off his surfboard. 

Alright, swimming it is, Donnie thought. He got up from his towel and headed down to the shores. He winces at the loud screech of April’s cheering, looking over to see that Casey Jr had punted the volleyball way out of bounds. The teen looks nervous and apologetic as the ball disappears into the aether, never to be seen again. But the girls all swarm him with hugs and cheers. They are being quite loud about it though.

Crunch.

Donnie stumbles back as he notices the strip of seashells lining the shores. He’s stepping on a few and it pokes the bare soles of his feet, eugh. The softshell carefully tries to maneuver around them—

“HEY DEE!!!”, Mikey bellows from down the shore, carrying a plastic red pail full of shells. “Can you grab me that white shell next to you?”

White shell? Sure. White shell, white shell… Donnie glances down and around him.

There are several white shells…

“W-Which one?!”, Donnie hollers back.

“Right next to your foot!”

His foot? Where?? Which foot?!?!?!

“...What????”

Mikey huffs a sigh. “Nevermind, I got it.”, he calls out, bounding his way over to his purple-clad brother. Mikey reaches behind Donnie and picks up the large white spiraling shell he almost stepped on. “I was talking about this one.”

“O-Oh, I see. My bad, I didn’t—”

“No, no, you’re good! I should’ve been more specific. Plus it was behind you.”, Mikey wavers his hand and offers a reassuring smile. “You having fun so far?”

“Uhh…yup!”, it’s not a total lie. But Donnie hasn’t done dick diddly since they got here.

“Cool! Wanna help me decorate Raph’s mermaid tail?”

Help decorate…but Don’s plan was to go in the water with Leo. But. Mikey’s asking for him and Donnie really doesn’t want to let his brothers down so…

“Okay.”, he nods. He could go swimming later anyways. This is okay. Just a little change. Not a big deal.

Don’t make it a big deal. It’s not. It’s literally just a change of plans.

Donnie follows Mikey over to where Raph is patiently waiting with his legs buried under a mound of sand that’s been sculpted into a rather impressive looking mermaid tail. Always leave it to the artist of the group to wow the others with his craftsmanship.

“I’m back! And I brought some help!”, Mikey beams, placing the now heavy bucket of shells down beside the snapper.

“Awesome! I’m going to be the coolest mermaid out there!”, Raph flashes a toothy grin at his brothers.

Donnie sits himself on Raph’s other side and simply follows Mikey’s direction in sorting all the shells into groups based on size, color, and general pattern. Bit by bit, they press the shells into the sand sculpture. While Mikey works the scales, Donnie presses large shell flakes into the fins. But he ends up pressing a bit too hard and the sand begins to topple over. The corner of the fin breaks apart, causing Raph’s foot to stick out.

“Oh crap! My bad, Raph, I didn’t mean to!”, Donnie winces at his mistake before snapping his head at the snapper.

Raph lets out a dramatic gasp, “My mermaid tail!! Oh no, the spell is wearing off! I’m turning back into a human—err…—turtle…”, Raph cries out. “My life is simply ruined! How could you betray me like this? My dearest brother?!” The alligator snapping turtle presses the back of his hand against his forehead as he flops back on his shell.

Oh shit. Shit! Raph’s mad at him. Of course he would be. How could Donnie make such a mistake? Sand is delicate and now Raph is—

Mikey’s laugh breaks through. “Alright, alright. Quit joking around, Raph. I’ll fix it. Just hold still again, would ya?”

Raph was…joking? He was joking. Oh. Right. Of course he was joking. Duh. How could Donnie think Raph was mad? It’s just sand. It’s an easy fix too. Raph was just having fun with him. Why couldn’t Donnie see that??

Mikey hums to himself as he scoops up the sand and pats it back in place again. Donnie wants to try and help some more but now he’s worried that he’ll just fuck it all up again. He clenches and unclenches his hands, hesitant to make a choice.

“Boys! Lunch time!”, April calls out to them.

“What?! Now?! But my mermaid tail!”, Raph whines.

“We can camp next to you then, Raph.”, April rolls her eyes fondly.

“Phew.”, Raph sighs, wiping his brow. He glances up ahead at Leo on his board. “Hey, Donnie, could you go grab Leo and tell him it’s time for lunch?”

“Yes!”, Donnie answers immediately, quickly standing up and a bit too eager to finally be helpful again. “U-uhm I mean, yeah. Sure thing. No probbles.”

Donnie hurries his way down to the shore, now mindful of the shells. He brisks the waterline to get in earshot of the slider before cupping his hands around his mouth.

“LEO! LUNCH!”, he shouts.

Leo can’t seem to hear him. Laughing to himself as he ducks under a wave, grazing the water with his palm. He looks so…joyful. At ease. It’s been a while since Donnie’s seen that. But…a growing turtle needs his food. Donnie huffs in annoyance and begins padding into the water, going deeper and deeper as the cold ocean water soaks the rims of his board shorts.

“Leo!”, Donnie tries again. “LEO!!!”

Still nothing. Guess Donnie finally gets to swim after all. He lurches forward before diving in. The refreshing cold water washes over him as the softshell blinks through the murky ocean and begins to swim after his twin. He sees where the water surface bobs and waves up ahead, where Leo is surfing. He just needs to get close enough for Leo to hear him.

He swims, no worry for his breath which he can hold for a good couple of hours if he wants. The water was hard to see through, unlike a swimming pool, but as long as Donnie focuses on the reflective rays of sunlight above, he could pinpoint where—

Something grabs his leg.

Something slimy, grainy, enrapturing around his leg. Tugging, pulling, yanking. Donnie yelps a muffled scream which takes all the air out with it, trying to kick away but it grabs hold of his other leg. Tugging and tugging and Donnie is kicking and kicking trying to break free but he can’t because the Kraangisyankinghimoutoftheslimyickyviolatingcontrolpanelsofthespaceship—

Suddenly, arms are pulling Donnie out of the water and he desperately gasps for air.

“You’re good, you’re good. I gotcha, Dontron.”, Leo assures as he pulls Donne up close for him to latch on to the surfboard. “What were you even doing down there?”

Donnie holds onto the back end of the board for dear life as he catches his breath. He blinks. Twice. Glancing around and registering that the slimy icky seaweed vines are no longer there. Because of course it was just seaweed. He knew that. He did.

“...What?”, Donnie asks dumbfoundedly, not registering Leo’s question.

“I said what were you doing?”, Leo raises a brow.

Donnie huffs in annoyance once again. “I was coming to get you for lunch time but then some seaweed grabbed me and…and I thought it was…something else.”

“Ugh! I hate that feeling!”, Leo scoffs, reeling his head back. “Every time that happens, I think it’s a stingray and I get all worked up about it.” The slider then scoots forward and pats the back of his surfboard. “Well come on then, let’s head back. I’m starving.”

Donnie graciously obliges, climbing up on the board and balancing himself on the center line. Leo glances behind him really quick but takes note of Donnie’s hands.

“Uhh…you might wanna grab on.”, he suggests.

Oh right, of course. Donne nods, scooting forward and gripping the edges of the surfboard but careful to not get too close to Leo. He’s still reeling from the icky seaweed just now. Leo cocks a brow before slowly turning his head back around.

“Oookay, that works. Let’s go.”

Leo paddles the two towards the shore, aiming for the wave that’s starting to form. Donnie fears for it to be a big one but the wave is simply tugged a bit out of the water, giving the board a gentle push that glides them back to the shore. Thank pizza supreme. He quickly gets off the second the ground is within leg range and pads out of the water with Leo to join up with the others.

The rest of the fam is setting up their picnic spot but the glorious snapper-mermaid as they start distributing sandwiches out from the cooler they brought. Leo and Donnie take a seat beside them all and that’s when Donnie is reminded of…sand.

The sand sticks to him like glue after his impromptu swim and near-drowning experience, getting stuck between his toes and grinding up against his scaly skin and—

“Here ya go, Donnie!”, April grins, passing him his sandwich.

Donnie accepts the offering, now distracted by just how hungry he is. He is most grateful that April and Mikey have packed sandwiches and chip bags for everyone. He opens up the plastic baggie and from the smell alone, he could tell it is a tuna salad sandwich. It sounds delightful. Donnie feels his tongue begin to salivate as he takes a big bite. Ah, finally, something nice. He chews on the bite, reminiscing in the delicious homemade flavors of the sandwich that Mikey made. He starts to feel a bit better too. He must’ve just been hangry this whole time—

CRONCH.

Donnie bit into something hard, hard like a rock. The texture is a startling difference from the softness of the sandwich and it throws the softshell off balance. Not wanting to spit it out in front of everyone, he crunches through the odd texture and gulps the bite down. He peaks into his sandwich to find a culprit but nothing is seen. He’s lost his appetite anyway, putting the rest back into the baggie and opting to thrive off of the potato chips for the time being.

The others are engaged in a lively conversation about how much of a fast learner Casey Jr is at volleyball. Donnie knows he should join in, they all urged him to come along on their beach day so he should be participating. But—

“Not eating your sandwich, Dee?”, Leo asks, though not unkindly.

Suddenly, eyes are on him. Donnie tries to glance up but the stares bore into him like heat lasers and he can’t bring himself to look back. Donnie shrugs through the embarrassment.

“Had a funny texture.”, he mumbles. “I-It tastes great though, Angelo. Really.”

“I believe ya, Don.”, Mikey smiles. At least…Donnie could hear the smile. “Sorry the texture’s off.”

“Well here, you still need something…”, Leo adds. He peels away at his sandwich, separating the bread from everything else and holding the tuna salad parts in his other hand. He hands the bread to his twin. “Here, you can have this. Bread is good, right?”

“O-oh, no. You don’t have to do that.”, Donnie shakes his hand at the offering.

“It’s fine, I prefer the salad straight up anyways.”, Leo assures. “Come on, don’t let this bread go to waste.”

“I…okay.”

Donnie takes the bread slides, munching away at them as the conversation picks up where it left off. The bread has the delicious tuna flavor to it though so at least that’s good. But Donnie still feels bad for being so picky about things. He doesn’t mind tuna. So why is this bothering him now?

“It is settled then!”, Cass’s loud voice breaks through the conversation. “All of us shall compete in a game of volleyball!”

“Aw, yeah! I’m in!”, April nods.

“Sounds great!”, Mikey beams.

“But…my mermaid tail…”, Raph whines.

“FUCK YOUR MERMAID TAIL!”, Cass shouts as she stands up and kicks over the beautifully and carefully crafted mermaid tail that Mikey put his blood, sweat, and tears into. “EVERYONE TO THE NET!”

The rest of the gang bound for the net as Raph mourns the tragic loss of his beloved mermaid tail before catching up with the rest of them. They split into two teams. Leo, Donnie, April, and Sunita on one team. And Raph, Mikey, Casey Jr, and Cass on the other team. Donnie opts to be the back end guy, away from the action where people could crash into each other and start screaming their heads off.

The game begins, April serves (and slays) the ball into the air and the tension begins. A point to Donnie’s team, then a point to the other team. The ball aims at Donnie’s direction a few times, but he stammers to hit back whenever Leo steps in a bit. He’s doing it to be ready to help but knowing Leo’s “No, no, I got this one.” attitude that almost cost them an entire apocalypse, Donnie is rendered hesitant. After a couple serves, Leo catches on and instead sends Donnie a reassuring nod when the ball comes his way again. The softshell does pretty well for the most part. Not too much action but enough that he’s helpful. He likes to be helpful. 

The ball is served again, a tie breaker now, and it hits into the other team’s side. Casey Jr quickly steps into the ball's line of flight, jumping high up in the air and smacking the ball across the net with such force that it slams into Donnie’s team’s side in an easy point hit. But the ball quickly rebounds and bounces up towards Donnie at lightning speed and before Donnie could even register it’s trajectory—

WHAM!

Donnie is knocked off his feet as the ball hits him square in the chin and makes the softshell bite his own tongue. He falls back against the grainy sand. And suddenly everything Donnie’s been trying to keep down all day suddenly snaps. He quickly sits up, tucking his head down as he is suddenly made aware of every little thing around him. The sun is too bright, everyone’s concerned shouting is too loud, his jaw and chin hurt, he’s still hungry because bread and chips is not a lunch meal, there’s fucking sand everywhere and it’s all just…too much.

A high-pitched whine escapes his throat through clenched teeth before Donnie is sucking in a large breath. He clutches his hands against his forehead and rocks himself in place. The sounds he’s making are not of his own volition but at least it has thankfully stopped the shouting. Donnie barely registers what everyone is saying but it doesn’t matter because they’re all focusing on him. Staring and boring their eyes into him so much that it hurts like heat vision rays determined to melt the flesh off his bones and all Donnie wants right now is to get away and maintain some of his fucking dignity.

“Deep breath, Tello. It’s just me right now. Just you and me. You and me.”, Leo’s voice hushes close by. “Deep breath. With me. In…and out. In…and out.”

Donnie tries to follow but his breathing comes in desperate gasps. He manages though. He tries.

“That’s good. You got it. You so got it.”

Donnie begs to fucking differ.

“Come here. You up for a hug?”

Donnie doesn’t even answer yet and there’s arms wrapped around him. They feel icky at first until they tighten, harder and harder. And now Donnie latches onto his twin like a lifeline. He doesn’t dare open his eyes, he can’t. Everything is just too much. But he holds on. It’s all he can do right now.

“There we go. You’re good. I got you.”

Leo shushes him calmly, still holding on as tightly as he dares until Donnie’s panicked rocking slows down. Donnie curls up as much as he can, wrecked with uncontrollable whines and sobs.

“There, there, mellizo. I’m here.”, Leo murmurs. “You wanna go home? Hm?”

A gentle suggestion. And honestly, Donnie would love nothing more than to get the fuck outta here. But…his brothers wanted him to be here. And if he leaves, they’ll want to leave too. He doesn’t want that.

“...I don’t want to ruin the fun.”, he whispers, barely audible, but Leo is holding him so close that he doesn’t have to be loud to be heard.

“You’re not ruining anything, I promise.”, Leo whispers back.

“I’d feel bad if they all want to leave too.”

“Hm…yeah, I get you. We can ask them to stay here, if you want. We could head back together, just you and me.

“...Just you and me…”

“You got it.” Leo shifts, craning his neck up at the others. “We’re gonna head back to base, you guys carry on though!”

Raph hums in concern. “Are ya sure? Raph don’t mind—”

“Yes, we’re sure. Go on. Continue the game without us. Mikey, switch with our team. Avenge our honor.”

“Uhm…sure!”, Mikey replies. “If that’s what Donnie wants.”

A pause, and Donnie realizes they want him to say something. But he could only muster a subtle nod.

“Dee would be honored to have you take his spot.”, Leo assures. “We’ll take my portals back so just give me a call when you’re done and I can teleport you all back.”

“You be sure to give us a call too if you need anything, okay?”, April insists.

“Absolutely!”

Leo shifts to get up but Donnie still grabs onto him tightly. The slider makes no fuss though, hoisting Donnie up with him and guiding the two back to the shade where a blue shimmering light forms. Donnie is guided through the light until everything feels a comforting familiar. The softshell blinks his eyes open to see the dimly lit lair before them. It almost looks completely dark but that’s simply Donnie’s eyes adjusting to being out in the bright sunlight all day. Leo sets his swords aside and gives his twin a patient smile.

“Hey bud, how’s your chin? Does it hurt?”, he asks softly. And thank fuck for it, Donnie doesn’t think he can handle much more stimuli.

His chin doesn’t hurt anymore now though. So Donnie just shakes his head, not wanting to engage in eye contact right now.

“Hm…how about all that sand, huh?”

Now Leo’s speaking his language. Donnie subtly nods which prompts Leo to gently grab his hand and guide him down the hall.

“Let’s head to the bathroom then before we get sand everywhere.”

They head into the bathroom where Leo grabs some towels from the rack. He passes one to Donnie before shaking off his own sandy skin in turn. The sand, now drying off, flakes away with ease which Donnie is most grateful for. He takes extra care to pick away the sand stuck between his toes and fingers before yanking off his bandana when he discovers how much sand got stuck up in it. Once the twins are sand-free, Leo ushers him out of the bathroom.

“Come on, it’s hoodie time.”

They head down to their rooms where Donnie is more than agreeing to dress out into something more comfortable and dry. He puts on his usual shorts and his large oversized purple hoodie before stepping out and sees that Leo has done the same in a blue hoodie.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Are you kidding? I don’t want to keep wearing those damp sandy clothes anymore.”, Leo chuckles. “Come on, let’s pop on a movie. You pick. I’ll grab some snacks. Something more filling than bread, I bet.”

Call it twin instinct, but Donnie is glad that Leo is able to read his mind. He heads down to the TV room and shuffles through a few options before opting for his go-to Jupiter Jim comfort movie. Something mindless he can just focus on. As he settles on the couch, Leo comes back with a couple juice boxes and instant noodle cups. Donnie soaks up the minimal warmth of his ramen cup as Leo snuggles up next to him. Together, the two just sit in peaceful silence, enjoying their noodles and the movie. But something still stirs in Donnie’s gut.

“...I’m sorry.”, he murmurs.

“For what?”

“For not being as participating as I should’ve been today. You guys have been insisting I come along and I owe it to you after locking myself up in the lab for a long while. I tried to be more sociable but…it was all just too much.”

“Hey. We wanted you to tag along because you’re our brother and we wanted you to feel included.”, Leo presses. “You didn’t have to come with if you didn’t want to and even if you wanted, you still didn’t have to push yourself beyond your comfort zone. We would never want you to make yourself uncomfortable for us, Dee.”

“...Yeah…you’re right.”

“Well of course I am.”, Leo flaunts. “Who would you be without your genius twin?”

“Excuse you, that’s my line.”, Donnie smirks. “...I still like going to the beach. Just…not now. I guess.”

Leo wraps his arm around his brother. “Then we’ll head out again some other time. Just you and me.”

“Yeah…

“Just you and me.”

-------------------------------------

This was the longest attack I've made so far for write fight and tbh I am kinda bummed that it's a friendly fire one too so the points ain't that much BUT THE RANDOM NUMBER GENERATOR HAS SPOKEN SO I DO NOT QUESTION THE RANDOM NUMBER GENERATOR GODS!!!

Hope you like it, Rem! Consider it a fuck you and a thank you for writing firefight. (I still gotta catch up. Why does Donnie want to eat bananas--)

[jounosparticles]

the way dazai is smiling the whole time and sigma looks so pissed off is perfect. thank you bones for doing them so good this scene.

[thinktankera]

There was exactly one episode of BBC Sherlock on my flight. I haven’t watched thjs show in years, I have zero recollection of this line. The way John just automatically responds with Asperger’s

BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH WHEN I CATCH YOU

[snooze-mode]

Help

I have been consumed by the D2 hyperfixation....

I have OCs now. I have written lorebooks for them.

HELP

[hercarisntyours]

autism creature elita