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ghost-proofbaby · 1 month

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never love an anchor (e.m. x reader)

"On some level, I think I always understood that a ship could never really love an anchor."

warnings: severe hurt/brief comfort, suicidal ideations, severely depressed reader. again: detailed recount of suicidal ideations. dead dove: do not eat.

wc: 5.8k+

an: i cannot emphasize this enough - this fic deals with a severely depressed, and blatantly suicidal reader. it is extremely heavy. it is extremely triggering. it is extremely self-indulgent. the romance aspect is ambiguous and the comfort aspect at the end is brief. this is a genuine, and sincerely personal piece of writing. it is an outline of how suicidal ideations may present themselves to some people. of these 5k words, 4k is deeply littered with reader's ideations without sugar coating. please, please, please do not read this unless you're in the state of mind to read it. you've surely heard it before but i'll say it just to be sure: it is a permanent solution for temporary feelings. and, just in case no one has told you, i'm glad you're alive. if you're reading this, i'm glad that you're alive. you're enough.

if you find yourself feeling like reader, i urge that you find resources such as those linked. hotlines, therapists, friends, your doctor, your family - please. i do not wish these emotions upon anyone, and they should never be taken lightly.

that being said, here are my guts from a very vulnerable moment, spilled out across the page. please handle them with care if you choose to read.

Technically speaking, the pressure that the human body is capable of handling almost seems infinite. When introduced slowly, and time is given to adjust, there is no pinpointed amount of pressure that dooms the human body. Like a crab in slow boiling water, your body should be theoretically able to handle a steady increase, bit by bit, and never truly notice.

So why does it currently feel like you’re dying?

The pressure was never an overnight thing. It was a conglomeration you’d gathered, piece by piece, collecting little souvenirs of all the responsibilities you can’t currently remember if you’d ever agreed to along the way. It hadn’t been sudden, it hadn’t been with lack of adjusting, it hadn’t been a pressure suddenly unloaded upon you all at once – you’d done this, brick by brick, all with your own two hands.

Keeping up with friends, keeping up with work, keeping up with expectations. Always trying to run ahead of the curve, always trying to be better. You should be fine. You shouldn’t even notice. You shouldn’t be sobbing on your bathroom floor, clutching the edge of your porcelain tub, every single breath a labor of survival.

It feels like every bone in your body is splintering. It feels like the world has cracked open your ribs, one by one, just for show. You don’t feel poetic like the movies, you don’t feel like a valuable lesson learned in the books. You feel as though you’ve become nothing more than some crude display in a contemporary art gallery, and you were the one to hang yourself on the wall.

Needles prickle across your skin with another heaving sob, as if you can feel the push pins you’ve used to spread yourself out for consumption.

We still on for tonight?

The text from Eddie glares at you from your phone discarded on the floor mere inches away. You’re lucky the screen hadn’t broken when you’d thrown it down on the ground on your way to the toilet, dry heaving through all your tears.

He wasn’t a part of the issue. If anything, he was part of the solution.

A shining clean slate, pristine whites and a scratch-free surface for you to press your cheek to when it all got a bit much. An abyss of freedom and openness for when the world was all a bit smothering. An anchor to cling to, a rope to tie around your wrists to keep from floating too far. The willow tree in a graveyard to rest your back against, the caress of a warm sun even if only momentarily as you stared out across headstones of all the pieces of you that you can never get back. Every version of you that has long since buried, a few even with newly churned dirt resting upon them. Something soft, something sacred, to rest your hands upon.

Why does he still let you rest your bloodied and dirtied palms on his shoulders? Did he ever agree to that to begin with?

You can’t remember. Or maybe your brain is simply refusing to recall.

I hate to cancel, but I’m sick. I don’t think I can come out tonight :-(

What? Is everything okay? Are you okay? Do I need to bring you anything?

Please don’t.

The please is what gives you away. You should have forgone it, should have offered him a lighthearted response instead.

But there is a pit in the bottom of your stomach, and seeing all the question marks across his text only made it more terminal. Only gave it more reason to swallow you whole. Only gave it more reason to grow and to tangle up and to restrict each stuttering breath of yours that you can’t seem to steady.

Another buzz comes from your phone, but you don’t look to read it. You resort to resting your forehead against the lip of your toilet, all attempts at a deep breath futile as you finally taste the salt across your lips.

Were you too much? Were you not enough? Was it possible to be an odd juxtaposition of both?

A harrowing thought crosses your mind, and you know if Eddie could read minds across the intricate webbing that connects cell phones, he’d grab you by your shoulders. Maybe shake you until you see sense, or maybe cling to you until the thought has faded into nothingness. As if he could squeeze you hard enough to press together all the splinters that are left of your bones, forming a new body – a better body. One that can handle the pressure. One that isn’t imploding upon itself. A more durable mind, a more capable suit of skin to occupy.

Does it even matter anymore? Would it even matter if I simply vanished?

Would it be so bad to let the pit finally consume you? To just give in, to let it erase you from existence. To finally wave your white flag and let the awfulness inside of you finally win the battle, erasing you from existence and leaving behind an empty space in the world that could be filled with someone better.

Someone who could be a better friend. Someone who could be a harder worker. Someone who wasn’t choked up on their bathroom floor, beginning to contemplate if the painful gasps were even worth it.

Were you worth it? Were you worth the air in your lungs? Or could it better serve someone who could handle all the pressure?

And it wasn’t even that much pressure to begin with, if you pick it apart thread by thread. It was the natural weight of the human experience, and you were still crumbling.

There was a full bottle of ibuprofen in the cabinet. There was a busy street not far from your home. There was a bathtub that could easily be filled with water – you’d never been good at holding your breath, unless someone counted the last few months, in which that seemed to be all you were good at.

There was even a bridge, 5.27 miles away from your house exactly. You could already envision the patch of grass you could park your car at, feel the drop in temperature as you stood and overlooked the tame waves of a man-made lake.

Maybe your feet didn’t even have to leave the pavement. Maybe it would be enough to just stand in the silence and see the jump with your own two eyes.

You felt like nothing more than a ghost of yourself, yes, but maybe. Maybe, just maybe, there would still be a broken shard within you that could stir awake at it all. Maybe if you got up off the bathroom floor and set yourself into motion, it would open its eyes just in time to scream no.

Ghosts don’t just appear. They were a vibrant soul once – they were somebody once.

But it’s hard to imagine that you ever were. When it gets like this, it’s hard to push through all the tumultuous thoughts and loathly emotions to remember that. A version of you vibrant, a version of you that might have been worthy, if only for a moment.

A version of you that wasn’t insulting to compare to others. That was capable of progress, of earning your blip of existence.

You don’t want the bottle of ibuprofen. You don’t want the busy street. You don’t want the overflowing tub. You don’t even want the calm of the bridge. You just want it to stop.

There’s a knock on your front door that echoes through the entire apartment. You dread that you already know who it is, but you can’t get up to answer.

You can’t move from this very spot. You’re terrified of what will happen when you do.

Will your bones collapse into ash upon the floor? Will you make one wrong move, and in a fit of pressure, make a terribly permanent decision for what feels like a terribly permanent feeling?

Maybe you were born with the pit in your stomach. Maybe you were born with that black hole inside of you. Cursed to always be yearning, always be a juxtaposition, always be a ghost of what could have become.

You think you hear the click of your front door opening. You think you hear heavy footsteps across the hardwood floors. You think, you think, you think. That’s the issue.

The tears are still coming and going in erratic tides. The salt is drying out your lips, your cheeks, the corners of your eyes. You’d thought you’d been incapable of any more emotions like this, but your tear ducts have managed to prove you wrong.

Does it even matter anymore?

You’d left the bathroom door wide open.

Were you worth it?

You’d been home alone – past tense.

A more durable mind, a more capable suit of skin to occupy.

A soft gasp of your name has you microscopically lifting your head from the toilet seat. You know what the scene looks like; it looks like nothing more than the excuse you’d used. You look as though you’re ill, like you’ve been spilling your guts across the bathroom floor all night.

If you had been, would it all feel a little less heavy?

“Hey, Eds.”

You’re tired. You’re exhausted. Your voice is nothing more than a drag of a whisper as you look up at your anchor standing in the doorway, his face painted with concern.

Maybe you were an anchor – maybe being an anchor wasn’t a good thing. After all, what use does an anchor have beyond weighing down the ship?

“Jesus,” he mutters as he rushes to your side, falling to his knees carelessly as his hand flies out to brush back tendrils of your hair, “You look like shit.”

You felt like shit.

Selfishly, you lean into his touch, desperate for comfort. Desperate for those caring palms to soothe the ache you’d carried since birth. Desperate to hear him tell you that you’re wrong – hands to promise you that you’re worthy, fingers to wrap around your bones rather than these burning ropes. You’re bloodied and raw, fully on display, and you just want to be okay.

You don’t want the bridge. You want Eddie. You want him to magically make it okay, and that’s unfair.

You’re not his weight to carry, not his burden to shoulder.

After far too long of a silence, one in which he sits patiently in with you, all you can really reply is a broken, “Yeah.”

Immediately, he knows something is wrong. Because of course he does.

Because he’s a good friend. He’s a good person. He has the right words more often than not, and his hands were always formed to heal rather than injure. Create rather than destroy. Those warm palms are made to hold the space he’s earned in the grand scheme of the Universe, and it almost makes you nauseous as the jealousy spreads.

He’s good.

And you’re simply rotten.

You used to lie to yourself and say it was simply one rotted bit amongst plenty of good, but tonight, it all seemingly comes to clarity. You can’t dig out the bad, cleanse yourself of the rot, because it’s all decay.

You don’t have to let the pit consume you – it already has. You were born with it, and it had swallowed you whole from the first cry that had ever left your lips.

He makes himself a bit more comfortable, and you almost feel bad for reducing him to nothing more than the bathroom floor, “You wanna talk about what’s really wrong?”

“I’m sick.”

“This isn’t just some stomach bug.”

Your throat begins to tighten again, and suddenly, his gentle touch across the crown of your head burns. Your eyes water ferociously, and your chest caves into itself.

You can’t make a better body or a more sound mind out of the mess you’ve become. You can’t pull gold from tarnished rubble.

Confessing to him will only be handing over something heavy, something terrible, that he shouldn’t have to struggle with as well. But not offering him a sliver of the truth almost feels more dishonoring.

“Do you ever feel like a waste of space?” you croak, leaning back, finally accepting that the small space of the toilet that had been cooling your face has gone warm. Another thing you’ve ruined, in hindsight, “Like, this world is filled with great people, and I just… I just, I’m taking up the space- I’m wasting the space-”

You can’t get out the proper words. You don’t know how.

How do you say you want to cease to exist when you’re not really sure if that’s the truth? You’re miserable, and you’re selfish, and you’re not entirely sure your feet would have ever left the pavement if you had driven yourself to the bridge. You’d be too scared to do it.

Too scared to miss the day that science announces it’s found a cure to all your rot, a miracle drug to erase the pit, a way to reverse all the damage you’ve been comprised of your whole life.

His brows furrow and his hand stops all the calming movements, “What? Are you- are you saying you feel like a waste of space?”

It feels silly to admit it to other people. To try and describe how it all feels. Like a child trying to convince their parents the Boogeyman is real, you have to make him see that you’re right. You have evidence, you have proof, and it’s not just a feeling.

“I don’t feel like I’m a waste of space,” you finally correct, both yourself and him, “I know I’m a waste of space.”

“Bullshit.”

“Eddie, don’t-”

“No,” he cuts you off. And somehow, in only a way that he’s capable of, it’s not offensive, “You’re not. I’m not going to sit here and listen to my favorite person claim they’re wasting space-”

“I am!” It’s your turn in the cycle of interruption. You pull away from him entirely, chest heaving with the weight presenting itself once more, tears starting to fall all over again. You can’t even distinguish where the old tears stop and the new ones begin, “I really am. All I seem to do lately is just exist. And that’s such a- such a- that’s such a waste. I can’t read any of the things I should enjoy these days, I can’t even write. All of the words feel like they just come out wrong. I’m letting everyone down left and right, I’m never living up to whatever pedestal you’ve put me on. I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life. I don’t even know where I’ll be in a year from now – I can’t even see that far in the future.”

Heaves become sobs, and the crumbling has begun once more. A cycle of breaking, a cycle of demolition. Even leaving behind the rubble feels like a crime. A waste of space.

“I don’t think I’m a good person,” you manage to spit out between all your visceral reactions, “Every year, I tell myself the same thing – I’ll be better, I’ll be kinder, I’ll be worth it. And every year, I fail.”

Can he see it? All the fractures and splinters and pits and metaphors?

Can he smell it? All the rot and the destruction and hopelessness?

Can he feel it? All the pressure?

Through your sniffles, you press your back to the tub, knees to your chin as you wrap your arms around your legs, desperately trying to shrivel up. To take up less space. To waste less space.

“I used to think I could make up for it,” you whisper, “I could offer people things that made them forget I’m… so useless. But I don’t think I’m even capable of that anymore.”

If he’s about to respond, it’s drowned out by your cries. You press your eyes hard into your kneecaps, until you see stars, and you try to swallow down all the embarrassment. Try to stop all the hurt from spilling out, to stop all your guts from painting the bathroom walls.

He could simply sit there, let you wallow in your misery alone. Sit and stare as the artwork finally serves its purpose to the visitors of the gallery. Maybe jot down some commentary on how with your bones all spread out like this, the point the artist was attempting to make becomes oh so clear.

And yet, he doesn’t.

You know it’s his arms that are wrapping around you, pulling you from the chill of the tub and into the warmth of his chest. And you let yourself smother within the fabric of his shirt the same exact way in which you’ve convinced yourself you smother everyone around you, let yourself breathe in drugstore cologne and his last cigarette rather than think about all the thoughts that had been spiraling you into dismay over the last twenty four hours – over the last twenty four years.

He’d probably been smoking while waiting on your call tonight. Probably riddled with anxiety, if the shake of his hands pressing into your back are anything to go off of. An anxiety and waiting game that wouldn’t have to exist if you didn’t exist.

The thought makes you cry harder.

If a ghost dies, can it even still return back as itself? Can it still find it within itself to haunt empty hallways, and watch the ones it once loved find peace?

“You’re not useless,” it sounds as though Eddie might be crying as well, if not just a little choked up, “You’re not- I swear- You’re not useless, okay? Never have been, never will be.”

His murmured words are nice, but they fuel an unimaginable guilt. It was supposed to be a nice night. A night of movie marathons and midnight coffee, of trying to remind yourself why you still stick around. A moment of incomparable joy and sweet reprieve as your stomach ached from laughter, your cheeks swelling with an infallible grin that Eddie always seems to pull out of you.

There’s no smiling, no giggling, right now. Just his favorite band shirt from the show you two had attended a few years before, soaking with a fast-growing stain from all your tears.

When you don’t answer him, only manage to wrap your selfish arms around his waist, he continues, “How long have you felt this way, sweetheart?”

And if you hadn’t already been shattered previously, that would have finally broken you.

You can’t pinpoint when it started. You can’t clear the smoke of memories and find an exact moment that you can point to and say, there. That’s where the hurt starts — that’s where the rot starts.

“I don’t know.”

In your mind, it’s a wail. Loud and ferocious, efforts of all it has taken to withstand the pressure of your undoing screamed out loud.

But on this quiet bathroom floor, it can’t even be considered a whisper. Nothing more than the spoken words lingering from a ghost who can’t give up the haunt. An echo of a memory, an echo of the piece in you that can’t let go, not yet.

Not of existing, and not of him. Your fists hold him so firmly against you, you’re scared that you’re going to bruise him. Hurt him just from the sheer effort of trying to show that you love him.

The only way you know how to love – a violent dog who will always bite the kindest hands. Leaving behind bloodied knuckles even if you hadn’t so much as snipped this time.

You take a sharp breath, aware of the levity of the words you’re about to say, “I don’t want to exist anymore, but I wouldn’t even make it off the bridge if I tried.”

It’s not about the bridge anymore. In all likelihood, it wouldn’t be the bridge you turn to. There’s a grand metaphor somewhere in the admittance, but your mind is just too tired to try and paint a prettier picture of it for him.

Because exist is just a placeholder. And there’s a bigger, scarier word that should stand in its place.

He starts to break the hold, and you nearly sob out again just at that. Losing the warmth of his chest and arms strike pain somewhere deep within you, just north of the pit that’s devoured all that’s left of you.

“Bridge?” Phrased as a clarifying question, but when you see his face, it’s clear he knows. There are no good words left to say about it, “Sweetheart, no.”

There are worse reactions to be had. More scenarios that end in slamming doors or deafening silent treatments. Realizations that you’re right and it’s not worth it – defense mechanisms that involve them leaving first.

“I couldn’t do it, even if I want-”

Even if I wanted to. The words you can’t speak, dying on your tongue.

Do you want to? Where does the pain begin? And where could it end?

“You really don’t see it, do you?” he laughs humorlessly, his hands still gripping your biceps in a death hold, “You… you just…”

He doesn’t know what to say, and you don’t blame him. You knew this was heavy; you knew this isn’t the type of bomb to drop on someone you love.

But if you didn’t, where would the bomb have gone? You’re not equipped to detonate it. You’re not equipped to survive the explosion. You wouldn’t want to survive that explosion.

“I’m sorry,” your words pour out, beginning to shake beneath his palms, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Dry, cracked lips feel as though they nearly split from the apologies. More violence, more devastation, more of what you always knew you were. You can see it in his eyes – you’re dragging him down with you, right down to the bottom of the ocean. You’re being an anchor.

He’s all stutters and harsh breaths, panic filling the space with your own as his eyes search yours, “Don’t apologize. You don’t have to apologize. Just-”

He cuts off and is pulling you close again. Slamming your bones into his, wrapping up around you as if he might be able to keep you safe from the world. From your own mind.

“I don’t need apologies,” another squeeze of your closer to him, another attempt to pull you away from the dangers that lie within, “I don’t- I just… Can I help? How do I make it better? Just say the word. I’ll do it.”

It’s not your job. That’s not your job.

You don’t realize you’ve said the words out loud until he’s squeezing you so tightly that you now can’t breathe. Until all you are is him. All his old t-shirts he’s lent to you that hang in your closet, all the nights spent with tangled legs as you sit across from each other on your couch, all the phone calls in which he refused to be the first one to hang up. Cologne that is too cheap to be able to cling so ferociously as it does to all your surroundings, chain-smoked cigarettes you always chastise him for because they’re gonna kill you one day, the smoke of his latest blunt resting in an ashtray as his head finds home in your lap.

All the inside jokes. All the hugs. All the simple texts, if for nothing more than to just check in on each other. The broken reminders of having someone out there that cares. That loves you.

How can such rotten hands pull such love from others? How have you yet to infect him?

“I know it’s not my job,” he finally says, and you know for a fact he’s crying along with you before the first of his tears have wet the crown of your head, “It’s never been a job. You’re not a job. Okay? Get that through your head. There’s- Fuck, there’s plenty of things I wanna drill in that pretty little head of yours right now, but I know I can’t, so just get that.”

He’s trying. A little trill of his tongue that falls a bit flat when he refers to your pretty little head, a brief squeeze of your shoulders as he tries to relax a little. He wants to make you feel better. He wants to make it better.

But he’s still holding you like he’s terrified. You did that – you instilled that fear.

“I’m a mess,” you whisper in bitter realization, ash on your tongue as you process what you’ve done. You’ve already apologized, but you’re seconds away from doing so again, “I’m- I’m a mess, and I’m dragging you into it, and I’m sor-”

“Stop being sorry.” Definitive words, no room for argument. The smallest of shifts as things click into place. He isn’t budging – he isn’t letting go, “Do you remember when I first met you?”

You can’t tell if the question is meant to have a point, or if it’s meant to be a distraction. You let it grow into the latter.

“Yeah,” you breathe out against him, melting into his chest, trying to focus on his voice rather than the ones in your head, “But tell me about it anyway?”

“Two years ago. Technically, two years and seven months,” he starts in the same voice he used to take on during Hellfire sessions, before the members had scattered from coast to coast and his D&D club only became a rarity when the stars aligned. There’s still a crack to his voice from his tears, but that doesn’t stop him, “We were in some cursed fucking diner we don’t even go to anymore, in the dead of the night, and all the servers knew your name and order,” he paints the picture with a humor that should feel out of place, but it settles some of your breathing. Omitting all the vivid details, opting for triggering the memory with words you’d just get. You can feel the stick of the plastic beneath your thighs, you can smell the grease of the kitchen. You can see the cloudy night out of the oversized windows. He’s a natural born storyteller in the most subtle of ways, always knowing his audience, “You were sitting all alone in that booth, and all of Hellfire had just left. Gareth had just told us how he was going to college in California – did you know that?”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, he did,” his chin presses against the top of your head, a huff of a laugh escaping him, “Dropped the bomb it was our last summer as a club probably. We were happy for him, though. Real fucking happy. Got milkshakes to celebrate and made plans to get drunk off our asses the next night to keep the party going. It was dumb, and I’m getting off track, but…”

Baited breath, you’re waiting for him to continue. No thoughts of the bridge. No thoughts of your failures. Living in a small memory with him on the floor of your bathroom.

“Anyways, you were sitting there all alone, with a plate of fries and ranch.”

“Oh, God,” your nose scrunches and you try to pull away, suddenly remembering how embarrassing this memory ends for you. It suddenly didn’t seem like the best way for him to make you feel better by any means, “No, I remember how this story ends, and-”

“I’m not done,” he locks his arms around you, and you can feel the whisper of a smile as it brushes against your temple, “Obviously you know where I’m going with this, but I’m not done, sweetheart. Because all the other guys had just left, and I’m sitting there, realizing the only other customer was some random person over across the diner, scribbling away in some notebook. Thought you looked cute when you were all focused like that, y’know? But then you were so focused that it became distracted, and you spilled that ranch all over yours-”

“Please, stop.”

You’re laughing through the words, weakly, the air of desperation in the word please being far different from earlier in the night. No bridges, no failures.

“I was probably being a weirdo, trying to run over and help you or whatever the fuck I was trying to do. I probably made it worse, right?”

You’re there, remembering a version of Eddie that was a stranger, taking napkins to the knees of your jeans and smearing the ranch rather than really helping you clean it up. “Yeah, just a little bit.”

“Sorry for that, by the way,” he airily apologizes before continuing, “But I just remember thinking about how focused you were on that notebook. And how you laughed with the waiter. And how you were just… lost in your own little world. And how you were so cute. You were so nice. The type of person I wanted in my life. Took one look at you with that ranch all over your lap and thought, huh. I want to get to know that person.”

“Nice? I was not nice, I was-” you cut off, heart all but stopping as you recognize the point of it all. It wasn’t meant to just be a distraction. He was making a point. “I was a… a mess that day.”

“Exactly.”

He pulls away again, and this time, it’s a little easier. The world has put a pause on its ending and you can handle the weight of his arms lightening for a few seconds, just so he can get a good look at your face.

“You were a mess the day that I met you, and I still wanted you in my life,” he says each word deliberately, not breaking eye contact. Fear has broken through to determination. “And even if you’re still a mess today, I still want you. Nothing changes. You get that?”

No bridges.

No failures.

The weight of it all had been heavy. The type of sorrow you thought was never meant to be carried by more than your own two hands. But he had taken it in his palms, lifted it from you entirely, even if it would only be temporary. One day you’d have to endure the pain again, get to the root of the problem. Figure out if all your ailments had been something wired into you since birth, or things you’d picked up along your way. But for now, you could breathe again. You could hear the drumming of your heart in your ears, and you could hear every single one of both yours and Eddie’s breaths in the silence, and that was enough.

“I don’t want to die,” you finally quietly admit. Saying one of the bigger, scarier words. The thing you’d been too afraid to let slip off your tongue originally. “I just- sometimes it all gets a bit loud, you know? And I know you said don’t apologize, but I am sorry that I scared you. And I’m sorry that you have to take the bad to also get that little bit of the good with me.”

His hand leaves one of your arms for the first time since he’d first wrapped you up, and it finds its way to cradle the side of your head. Holding you as if you’re porcelain still. You know that won’t go away, not tonight. “I’d rather have your bad days than have nothing at all,” he chokes up once more, and you can see tears threatening to welt in his eyes, “You get that, too. Alright? You’re worth it. Bad, good, funny, sad – give it to me. I’m asking for it. Just don’t… don’t leave me with the nothing.”

You’re worth it.

He’s found a worth in you attached to nothing at all. He’s sitting here with you, on the bathroom floor, and his perception of you has nothing to do with what you can only offer.

It just has to do with you. He sees you, and he’s decided you’re worth it. Even now.

He smiles softly, as if he can see the realization dawning upon you, “You wanna get up off the floor now? We can go sit on your couch or bed or something.”

You’re quick to shake your head. Your knees are partially digging into his thighs, your breaths are matching his.

“Okay,” his face falls slightly, but not entirely. Not entirely, “That’s okay. Do you want me…. Do you want me to go?”

Another shake of your head. But this time, you need to offer more than just the motion of your head, especially when you can feel tears returning as your throat tightens up, “No. No, just- Stay with me? Please?”

Your hands reach out without you even processing it, gripping his wrists, desperate and clinging and still verging on the edge of violent. The thought of being alone is terrifying, but the thought of having to watch him walk out of this room is even more petrifying.

He doesn’t even flinch as you sink your claws in. His smile only returns, and he shuffles to pull you both to hold your backs up against the wall across from the toilet, “Of course. I’ll stay, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere – wouldn’t even dream of it.”

His words shake just a little less than they had when he’d first entered the room.

He can’t fix it all magically. That isn’t his job, isn’t his role, isn’t his choice. But he can sit here with you, on the floor of the bathroom, endlessly patient and tragically caring as he urges you to lay down. He stretches his legs out and pats his lap once before hovering his hands over your shoulder, guiding you until your temple is flush with his thigh.

He can choose to not hesitate as his fingers immediately push through the baby hairs by your temple, a soft hum in the back of his throat that sounds exactly as you feel.

Hesitantly content. Just for now. It’s enough.

The storm is receding. As hours pass by, and noises of uncertainty become more confident hums of a song you faintly recognize, it all settles. He stays. You stay. The storm passes for the time being, and the hole tempers itself for just the night.

It’s enough for now. You’ll worry more tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that. You’ll talk more about why you feel this way, and he’ll offer better solutions. The weight won’t simply be passed into his waiting hands and forgotten – one day, you’ll find a way to lighten it through dissipation rather than through catastrophe.

One day, the seas will calm, and you’ll find yourself the ship rather than the anchor.

And the captain can be the boy who sits on the floor with you through the sadness, content to wait out the storms with you until you find the worth he sees in you.

#not using taglist due to the triggering nature of this fic #ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #tw suicidal ideations #this felt more like a journal entry than a fic at times #but i needed to write it so i did #writing eddie's bits were hard because i've always been bad at being on that side of these things #finding a way to have two humans discuss the emotions in question out loud was just hard #and in case anyone who's reading the tags needs to hear this: you're not a burden for telling your loved ones when you feel this way #i guarantee they'd rather have these hard and uncomfortable conversations than the alternative #the ending only feels rushed and like a band-aid because i truly don't know if i'm capable of writing that type of dialogue #it's already scary enough posting this as it is lol #but save the leaves? idk now im using humor as a coping mechanism #alright i'll shut up now no one is reading this far into the tags

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sunsetsandsunshine · 1 month

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If I may request a Rise fic!! I’m a huge sucker for comfort/cheer up tickles, so could you possibly write a disaster twins fic with Lee Leo and Ler Donnie where Leo’s been having a pretty bad day (because of what is your choice!) and ends up feeling self conscious about himself and stuff, so Donnie decides to cheer up his twin!! Please don’t feel rushed and make sure you’re taking care of yourself ^_^

~ 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜!!! ~

💜💙 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 💜💙

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙼𝚂𝙺𝙽𝚂𝙽𝙺𝙼𝙳𝙽𝚂𝙹 𝙽𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙴 𝙾𝙷 𝙼𝚈 𝙶𝙾𝚂𝙷 𝚈𝙾𝚄. 𝙶𝙴𝚃. 𝙼𝙴!!! 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝙻𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝙹𝙰𝙼!!! 𝙴𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚜…𝙶𝚘𝚍, 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢..𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎??? 𝙻𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎!!!˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟺,𝟹𝟿𝟺

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙳𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚍…𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

(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!!!)

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: @shut-up-jo @itzsana-kiddingmenow @aceofspades-doodles @ziipzeepzop-eez

@tmntheadforever123 @rice-cake-teen10 @aninabanina6969

@savemeafruitjuice @cedarrthefluffylee @saturnzskyzz @titters-and-tingles

@someone1348 @my-l0v3r-v3rse @snipersiniora @mistyandsnow

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙰𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚣𝚢…

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

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me again.” Leo grumbled under his breath as he rested his mouth on his palm, glancing away from his brother as he sighed loudly.

“Well maybe if you weren’t so fucking reckless I wouldn’t need to.” Donnie growled lowly, glaring down at his twin.

“I’m not a baby, Don. I don’t need to be supervised like I’m some bomb triggered to explode.” The younger said in exasperation, lying down on his bed whilst grabbing a comic book to read off of his desk.

If Leo was going to be told off and scolded by his dear beloved brow-loving brother, he should at least have something to occupy himself with in the meanwhile.

The softshell groaned eternally at his little brother’s action, quickly snatching the piece of literature out of the other’s hands and throwing it effortlessly to the ground.

Uninterested lime green eyes locked with a determined yet fierce light golden, both of them refusing to look away or blink to show their dominance.

But after a while, the red eared slider grew more impatient, looking away again as he picked a hangnail on his thumb, “If you’re going to yell at me, can you just get it over with? I saw a reddit post predicting what’s going to happen in The Umbrella Academy season four and I need to read it.”

“You can read that later, Nardo. I promise you, that reddit post isn’t going to fly away.” The elder said as he pinched the bridge of his snout, “What I need you to do right now is acknowledge what you did today was stupid, alright?”

Leo looked away from his older brother, scoffing lightly, “I do stupid things all the time. What stupid action of mine are you wanting to scream at me for this time?”

The softshell turtle took a couple deep breaths at that comment, drumming his fingers on his left arm in a soothing motion because he was NOT going to give into the urge of strangling his twin brother…

…No matter how much he deserved it.

“I’m not planning on screaming at you— that won’t help anyone or anything.” The purple banded turtle explained calmly…but you could see and tell he was starting to lose his paitence.

“But you want to.” The red eared slider pressed on.

“Leo…please. I don’t want to argue right now.”

“We’re not arguing. We’re just kindly discussing my oh-so stupid descision that unfolded earlier today, right?” The younger twin smirked smugly, his eyes locking once again with his brother.

When it came to arguments, the leader in blue always had this wonderful tactic to avoiding things: attempting to annoy the other person so much that they drop the subject they wanted to discuss with him completely.

It always worked with Raph…which the red eared slider didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

But the only downside of doing this tactic was his dumb twin saw right through it…

…And Leonardo despised it.

“Nardo…you know what I’m referring to. And stop picking, please. Your going to hurt yourself.” The older attempted to say in a tranquil voice, but it personally just sounded like he was one second away from losing. his. shell.

“I sadly do not know what your referring to.” The blue cladded teen said coyly, picking on his hangnail more desperately now, “Care to enlighten me, Tello?”

Donnie’s expression hardened ever so slightly at his younger brother’s absolute persistence on annoying him out of his right mind so he could eventually drop the subject…but the softshell turtle was not budging.

His twin would have to try way harder than that.

“I’d love to.” The light golden eyed mutant said in a fake sweet tone as he walked over to lean his shell on Leo’s closed door, crossing his arms in disaproval. The elder grabbed his brother’s sword, planting it right next to his foot so the blue banded turtle couldn’t reach for it.

The red eared slider’s cocky grin turned to a small grimace (shake) as he soon came to terms with what his older brother was doing…

…He physically could not leave from this conversation…literally.

Leonardo crossed his arms, trying to mimick the other’s serious demeanor but was only met with an icy glare in return.

“What you did during today’s mission was completley reckless and idiotic, Leonardo…and you know it.” The second oldest said, “I had that thug exactly where I wanted him but noooooo. Because you saw me trip you thought it would be a spectacular idea to throw yourself on top of me as that hooligan tried to hit me with his bat!!” Donatello seethed.

“We’ve been over this multiple times, Leo! There was no reason for you to do that!” The light golden eyed teen yelled, his glare only hardening more as he saw the younger stuttering over his words to try to defend himself.

“I’m not done.” The taller teen growled, all of his calmness and collectiveness thrown completley out of the window.

The slider slightly flinched (which went un-noticed by the other) at his brother’s genuine angry tone, his left leg fidgeting and bouncing up and down like crazy.

His tactic was really starting to not work in his favour at all…

“Just…stop putting yourself in the middle of danger like you’re just expecting the rest of us to just watch. We’re your family…and most importantly, we can defend ourselves just fine.”

“Well ihisn’t that hypocritic!” Leonardo scoffed before creasing his eye ridges together in genuine confusion, mumbling to himself, “Hyp…uh…hypocrotic? Hyp…Hypocratic…?”

“Hypocritical?” The older deadpanned.

“YES! THAT WORD!” Leo said, “When we were fighting Kraang Prime on the ship and he went to take a blow at Mikey…what did you do?”

Donatello scowled, his eyes not leaving his twin, “…I went in front of him and shielded him with my mystic tech.”

“Exactly.” The lime green eyed mutant scoffed, “And how is that any different from what I did, hm?”

“BECAUSE I HAD A PLAN!!!” Donatello shouted, “I planned to accordingly go in front of Mikey so my sheild could protect both him and me. Did it end up turning out perfect? Fuck no. Kraang Prime slashed right through it and me and Mikey went tumbling towards the ground…” The glasses wielding teen said through clenched teeth.

The light golden eyed teen rubbed his face tiredly, his hands clenching and unclenching in frustration, “But I had a plan. You on the other hand, just zoomed recklessly on top of me and hoped for the best.”

“…I saved you, didn’t I…?” The younger twin mumbled out meekly, causing Donatello’s blood to absolutley boil.

“That’s not the point!!!” The elder said as he clenched his hands at his sides again.

“Then what is?!” Leo said desperately, “Because from the looks of it, it just seems like you want to yell at me for just doing my job.”

Leonardo pulled on his mask tails anxiously, trying to calm himself down but ultimately just making himself feel worse by doing the action, “I’ve been trying to be a better leader—“

“Leo—“

“—For you and Mikey and April and Raph and Casey and C.J. a-and Dad! But it seems like no matter what the hell I do there’s always something I’m doing WRONG!!!” The younger twin shouted, blinking back tears as he glared at the ground as if it took his Jupiter Jim comic.

Which…it did. The blue banded mutant wanted it back now, actually…

“I saved you! I-I didn’t even get hurt by doing it but somehow there’s an issue…” The lime green eyed teen murmured, both of his legs bouncing up and down as he tugged on his mask tails harder, “There always is…”

“Leonardo can you please just listen to me?” The older twin said in irritation.

“But Don I’m—“

“No, Leo! Just listen! That’s all you need to do!” Donnie snapped as he cut his brother off, “I don’t want you leaping head first into harms way! At all! Especially if you don’t have a plan!” The softshell turtle exclaimed as he flapped his hands against the side of his thighs, but his eye contanct remaining on his little brother.

“Oho so now you don’t trust me well enough to know that I can handle myself in combat?” Leo said in a last desperate attempt to make his brother drop the conversation.

“I…” The young scientist’s eye twitched, his eyebrows creasing together as he had to physically restrain himself to not beat the ever living crap out of the other teen, “THIS IS NOT ABOUT TRUST, NARDO!” The light golden eyed mutant screamed desperately, his hands flapping faster as the red eared slider shrunk at his usage of tone, “This is about you not even thinking about what would happen to yourself when you do reckless nonsense like this.”

Leo glanced to the side, his eyes watering as he bit the inside of his cheek.

He just wanted to help and be the leader his brother’s deserved…

But he always found a way to fuck it up without even noticing, huh?

"You don't think about what could happen to you and I hate it!” The elder cried, “What would’ve happened if Raph didn’t come behind the guy and knocked him out cold at the last second, huh?! Would you have just stayed right on me as he continued to beat you with his bat?!”

Leonardo bit the inside of his cheek harder, his legs bouncing up and down more as his fingernails dug unforgivingly into his arms, “I-I’m sorry, Donnie—”

“Or would you have tried to fight him instead?! Mind you, you dropped your sword before coming to me so you’d have no weapon to defend yourself.”

“You don't think about how much it scares me when you do dumb shit like that! I hate seeing you get hurt…I freaking loathe it.” Donnie rested the back of his head on Leo’s door, taking a couple deep breaths and hugging himself in an attempt to calm himself down.

Jeez…when the hell had he started yelling? His throat stung like a bitch now…

And when had he started shaking like a bobby head?!

The older twin’s expression softened, pinching the bridge of his snout once more, “I care about you…so fucking much, okay…?” The purple banded turtle said gently as he gradually started to simmer down and become more calm, “Your my twin…my little brother. And I hate to be repetitive but I-I just despise seeing you hurt…physically or emotionally…so please just…”

The young scientist’s eyes widened, peering down at his brother who did not seem to be following…at all.

Leo’s eyes were wide as saucers as he hit his arm with his fist repeatedly whilst obviously trying to suck in whatever tears dared to try and escape.

The taller turtle basically ran to his distressed twin, trying to stop him from harming himself any further but was only met with a low grunt.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Fucking shit.

Wonderful job, Donatello! You yelled at your brother so much he shut down!

Even though you knew he can’t fucking stand being yelled at and the whole point of you even being here was to explain what he did wrong collectively and calmly because that was the exact oppositeof what Raph does when he’s worried…

But no! You yelled at him anyway.

Wonderful job, Donatello…wonderful. job.

The older twin sighed sadly, gently grabbing his brother’s wrists so he would stop hitting himself. The two brother’s shared eye contact once again, an unsure lime green meeting an understanding yet uncertain light golden.

“Nardo…” The softshell started, squeezing the other’s hands gently, “…Are you with me, bud…?”

Leo just nodded quietly, squeezing back.

“God…Nardo I’m so sorry…” The older muttered, “I don’t…I don’t know why the hell I lost my cool like that. I-I’m sorry I yelled. I shouldn’t of yelled…I-I just…” Donatello sighed, squeezing his brother’s hands once again. “I’m not angry with you. I…I was just frustrated.”

“Well, no…let me rephrase: I am angry with you— livid even. You know damn well enough that when you do those kinds of things my heart literally jumps out of my shell. I need you to put into consideration that I would like to live to at least seventy-seven…”

The younger twin giggled wetly, fidgeting with his brother’s fingers as he spoke, “…Why seventy-seven?”

“Albert Einstein died when he was seventy-six…I can and will outlive him.” The light golden eyed teen said matter-of-factly, “But back to what I was initially saying…I know you meant well. You saw that I was in trouble…and you dropped literally everything in order to help me get out of said trouble. You don’t think of what happens to you…you just do it because you’ll know if you do we’ll be alright…”

“I-I just…I just wanted to protect you…I-I just wanted to help…” Leo tried to explain.

“I know. I know, Lee…” Donatello sighed, rubbing the slider’s knuckles gently with his thumb, “But you need to understand that with you trying to protect us that way, your putting us in the same situation your trying to keep us away from.” The elder explained lightly, smiling softly as him and his twin’s forehead’s touched.

“You’re getting hurt— or at the very least almost getting hurt. We’re feeling the same anguish and guilt you would feel if any of us did that. I get that you want to be a good leader and shit…but you can lead well without doing that…okay?”

Leo fiddled with the other’s fingers a bit more, his bouncing leg starting to calm a bit, “I’ll…try to be more careful when it comes to me protecting you guys like that. When I see you all in trouble…I just…react. I don’t really care about what happens to me as long as you guys end up okay. But…I’ll try to be more careful. And if I ever end up, like, being a bit too reckless…you can just tell me…deal?”

“Deal.” Donnie nodded, squeezing Leo’s hands one last time before letting go, wiping his twin’s eyes with his hoodie sleeve, “Now please stop crying or you’re going to make me start crying.”

Leo snorted, examining the other’s now tearing up expression, “I think it’s a bit too late for that…”

“GAH! FUHUCK!” Donnie cursed, wiping his own eyes as the slider laughed loudly at his exclamation.

“Leo…don’t you think you’re getting a bit too big for this…?” Donatello grumbled as Leonardo was on his lap, getting all nice and comfy as he rested his chin on the older’s shoulder. “Noooope.” Leo drawed out, making a dramatic popping noise at the end of the 'p', “'Sides, this is what you get for making me emo earlier.”

“…I said I was sorry…I didn’t mean to shout at you like that. I was just concerned…”

“I know that, you worrywart. I was just kidding.” The lime green eyed teen said lovingly, squishing his brother into a tighter embrace. The older let out a short shriek at the hug but of course didn’t mind the other being so clingy.

If the young scientist really and truly did mind? Leo would’ve been pushed to the floor by now.

The two twins shared a comfortable silence…well…a semi-comfortable silence.

The purple banded teen felt…off. His younger brother had this…look in his eyes; like he wanted to say something but was afraid of what Donnie would say or how Donnie would react.

Which was so damn dumb Donatello didn’t even know how to explain it.

“…There’s something else on your mind.” The taller turtle hummed, his suspicions only rising as the other glanced to the side. “Uhm…no there isn’t. See? This is why I call you a worrywart.” Leonardo said, tapping his fingers on his thigh nervously.

Very convincing Leo…very convincing.

“Don’t even try lying to me, Leon. My older brother and twin senses are tingling. You can’t argue against that kind of logic.” The scientist said matter-of-factly.

“What are you, Spiderman?” The younger snorted.

“We shall never know.” The older shrugged, a small smile spreading to his face as he saw the other snort softly at his statement, “Now stop deflecting. Spill.”

“…Can you…adjust my elbow braces…?” The red eared slider muttered.

“…Why can’t you do it?” The other questioned. Not in a malicious way; he was just genuinely curious.

“I like it when you do it. You make it more firm, y'know?” The blue banded turtle whined dramatically, “Pleeeeeease?”

“Ugh, Jesus— fine. But drop the pout…you look ridiculous.” The taller mutant sighed, lightly grabbing his brother’s arm as he readjusted the braces.

The purple banded turtle meticulously took off the other’s left arm brace, tracing his twin’s elbow to make sure it was healing correctly— which the slider couldn’t help but wriggle slightly to.

As the older twin put the brace back on, he looked at the other turtle in complete worry, “…Why are you squirming around so much?” Donatello asked in confusion.

“…No reason.” Leonardo stated, but let out a tiny squeak as Donnie lightly pinched his forearm.

“Yohou okay…?” The glasses wielding mutant giggled.

“I-I’m fihine!” The smaller turtle insisted, covering his mouth as he let out a loud shriek in result to his brother now lightly scribbling his forearm. “EEEEE! P-Plehease moohoove yohour hahahand!!” The younger sputtered out, hiding his face in the crook of the scientist’s neck which the older turtle couldn’t help but let his heart melt to.

“Oh.” Donatello hummed, biting back an amused laugh, “Sorry. Sometimes I forget how ticklish you are…”

“Snrt I-Ihihi’m nahat ticklish. I juhust don’t wahant your hand thehere…”

And isn’t that quaint.

If Donnie had a penny for every time Leo said he 'wasn’t ticklish', the softshell would be richer than Elon Musk.

“…Right. So…you wouldn’t mind me doing this then?” The young genius mused as he scribbled one hand over his twin’s ribs. “EEEEHEH! Duhuhude noHOH!! F-Fuhuck yohou!” The younger twin managed through his small giggles, pushing on his brother’s plastron to try and escape while he still could.

The elder laughed fondly at his little brother’s futile actions, hugging him closer as he lightly tickled him, “Nahardo! My brohohother in Christ gehet back here or you’re gohoing to fahall off of the bed!

“N-NOHO!! LEHET ME GO!” The lime green eyed teen screeched loudly, kicking his legs and pushing even harder on the other’s plastron, his eye’s widening in panic as his older brother casually lifted him up and pinned his arms above his head, his plastron now facing up on the bed.

Eugh boy…

Donnie grinned, sitting on the other’s thighs as he wiggled his unoccupied fingers in the air near the slider’s side, “That’s better~!”

“WAHAIT WAHAHAIT snrt PLEHEASE DEEHEE!!” The red eared slider cried, kicking his legs from underneath the scientist.

If he was going to go down…he would at least go down fighting.

“I haven’t even touched you yet, you goof…” The older twin chuckled.

“B-BUHUT YOHOUR GOHOHONNA!”

“'Gonna' what, exactly?”

“TihiHICKLE ME!!”

“Tickle you? Well, why didn’t you just say so in the first place?” Donatello snickered, using his free hand to skitter his fingers along the crook’s of the younger’s neck.

The blue banded turtle squealed, shaking his head back in forth whilst scrunching his shoulders, “GAHaha— snrt EEEEHEEHEH oho cohome snrt OHAHAN!!”

“What’s wrong, Leo? I thought you said you weren’t ticklish~?” The older teased.

“Snrt STHDHAHAH! Shuhut UP! IHI’M naHAT!” The younger shouted, tugging and pulling his arms to try and get his hand’s free from the other’s grasp. Donnie just laughed softly at the action, wiggling his fingers above his little brother’s stomach.

The lime green eyed teen’s eyes widened in panic, thrashing in the hold to try and loosen his brother’s grip but the purple banded turtle did not budge even a smidge.

Leo’s laughs became more giddy and loud as he continued to squirm, small squeals and snorts escaping his beak as his twin brother’s hand went sloooooowly to his stomach.

“N-NOHO NONONONO DAHA— snrt DOHON!!” The smaller turtle snorted, hiding his face in the side of his arm which Donnie couldn’t help but giggle to.

The light golden eyed mutant rested his hand on the slider’s plastron, making the younger turtle’s laugh raise almost a thousand octaves.

“DOHON’T snrt DOHON’T DOHOHON’T snrt YOU DARE!! YOHOUR SOHO MEEHEEHEEAN!!” Leonardo whined, hiding deeper into his arm and becoming a giggly flustered mess.

The older twin shook his head fondly at his little brother’s embarrassed state, taking the opportunity to tickle the younger’s stomach while he wasn’t looking.

Leo let out a loud scream, descending into high-pitched cackles as even louder snorts followed, “HAHAHAHELP!! IHI’M SNRT BEEHEEING SLAHAHAUTERED!!”

“I’m quite literally only using one hand, Nardo. Stop being dramatic.” The light golden eyed teen mused whilst watching his brother snort and squirm, “And here I thought I was the dancer of the family. Look at you! You’re making up a whole dance routine right now!” He said as he let go of Leo, crossing his arms in amusement.

“S-Shuhuhut snrt up…” The younger twin wheezed out, hugging his middles as he playfully glared at his purple loving brother.

Then, a lightbulb went on in the scientist’s brain, a smug smile spreading to his face, “Hm…you know, Lee—”

“Dohont call snrt me thahat!” Leo giggly interupted.

“Uh-huh. Well, Lee…did you know that the underarms are one of the warmest places on the human body?” The scientist said.

The lime green eyed mutant cocked his head to the side in confusion, “Soho?”

“Soooo my hands are cold. Very cold, in fact. I’d be forever in your debt if you could—”

“NO! NONOHO WAHAY IN HEHELL! G-GOHO AWAHAHAY!” Leo squealed, reaching for his brother’s wrists as the elder tried to tickle his neck once again.

Sigh…Leonardo made this too damn easy sometimes.

The glasses wielding teen wasn’t just going to miss this oh-so-definetly-not-planned opportunity! The softshell scribbled his fingers along the slider’s underarms, making the younger let out a loud squawk as he shot his arms down.

“NAHAH AHAHAHA— snrt GEHET THEHE HEHELL OHAHA— snrt OHOHOUT!!” Leonardo cried while banging his heels on the bed.

“What~?” Donnie hummed inocently.

“GEHEHET AHA— snrt GEHET. OHOUT. OHOF THEHEHERE!”

“Awe…why~?”

“BEEHEECAUSE IHIT’S SOHO BAHAHAD!!!”

“And?” Donnie chuckled, “That sounds like a you problem, little brother.”

“AHHHAHA— snrt GAHAHAD FUHUCK YOHOU!!!”

“Pardon…what was that?” Donnie questioned as he pinched where Leo’s hip met his thigh. “N-NONO— snrt NAHAHAH!! I CAN’T— snrt PLEHEHEASE I’M snrt SORRY!! I-IHI TAHAHAKE IHIT BAHAHCK!!”

“Nah…I think I’ll just stay riiiiight here for a bit…” The taller turtle smiled, using both of his hands now to tickle Leo into a laughing and snorting blob.

The younger weakly hit his big brother’s arms, throwing his head back as he squeezed his eyes completely shut.

“…And you know what, Lee~?”

“WHAHAHAT NOW?!”

“I’m feeling…kind of famished.” The elder mused, his smile almost looking like the signature Joker’s as he saw his younger brother’s face pale.

Leonardo scrambled to sit up, fighting with his brother’s arms as he giggly protested, “PLAHA— snrt PLAHAHEASE! PLEHEASE snrt D-DOHON’T!!”

Donnie pinched his brother’s thighs unforgivingly, “You should have thought about that before yapping such ill nonsense about yourself.”

“WHAHA— snrt WHAHAHA— snrt WHAHAT DIHID snrt IHIHI snrt EVEN SAHAHAY?!” The lime green eyed turtle cackled, flapping his hands on the mattress.

It took literally everything in the older twin not to coo his baby brother’s adorable actions; instead, he lightly moved Leo’s hands away, smiling evily as he lowered his head to the other’s plastron, “You don’t even know. Guess you really want this, huh~?”

The blue banded teen kicked his knees into his brother’s shoulders and shell, throwing his head back in complete hysterics whilst waiting for him complete and utter demise.

The softshell wasted no time blowing raspberries after raspberries in the middle of his younger’s stomach, making sure to move the other’s hands away any time he tried to push at the young genius’ head.

Donnie didn’t feel like getting brain damage after all.

Plus, he had his signature glasses ᴅᴏɴᴀᴛᴇʟʟᴏ ᴛᴍ on! And those were trademarked…as you can wonderfully see.

“God…can you get more ticklish?” Donatello giggled, squeezing and squishing the red eared slider’s knees with one hand and scribbling his sides with the other whilst contuinung to raspberry Leo’s stomach.

“DEEHEE DEEHEEHEE SNRT PLEHEHEASE!!! IHI SNRT DAHAHAH— SNRT DAHA— SNRT DAHUNNO!!” The smaller turtle screamed, happy stimming with his arms on the taller twin’s shoulder.

Donnie couldn’t help but chuckle, deciding to show his twin a tad bit of mercy as he nibbled his stomach lightly.

The slider let out bloody murder from his beak, happy tears threatening to fall from his eyes as his bubbly cackles and snorts bounced off the walls of his room.

“Jeez…I think Peppa Pig has some competition, huh~?” The light golden eyed mutant snickered.

“PLEHEHEASE!! TEHEHELLO SNRT IHI’M GOH— SNRT GOHOHA— AHAHA SNRT MYHYHY SNRTGAHAHAHAD!!!” The smaller teen pleaded.

“Do you promise to stop putting yourself in between danger and your family?” The older hummed.

“YEHEHES!!” The younger cried loudly.

“Do you promise to go easier on yourself?”

“YAHA— SNRT YAHA— SNRT YEHEHES!!!”

“Do you promise to accept your doing an amazing job as leader and we all love you—”

“MY SNRT FUHUHUCKING SNRT GAHAHAD!!! IHIHI SNRT GEHET IT!!” Leonardo shouted, his blush now completley blending into the red stripes on his face.

The softshell turtle got off of the other, sitting next to his little brother as his little brother in question hugged his middles and giggled tiredly.

“Y-Yohou could ohof juhuhust sahaid ahall of thahat wihihithout tickling meeheee…” The younger grumbled despite the evident smile on his face.

“And where’s the fun in that?” Donnie smiled back, his expression softening as Leo got up and leaned against him softly. The older wraped an arm around the younger’s shoulder, pulling him closer into a warm, protective gesture.

“Ahand would yohohou look ahat that! Ihi got yohour emo bahad boy ahahass to smile todahay. Your eheeven hugging me~!” The blue banded leader spoke softly, his voice filled with affection as he poked his twin’s forehead cheekily.

“You tell anyone that and I will not hesitate to deny that extremely untrue statement.” The scientist huffed, rolling his eyes fondly as his smile spread.

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

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

#Rottmnt tickle #Rottmnt tickle fic #Lee!Leo #Ler!Donnie #WHOOOOOO BOYYYYYY…#I’m sorry but I’m not sorry 🫶🏾#Angst is like my second child 👶🏾💘💞💝💖💗#But I feel like I need to explain some stuff bc this fandom is probably holding me at gunpoint rn 😅🔫#The reason why I feel like Leo and Raph had so many disagreements when Leon became leader is bc Leo can’t handle yelling #LIKE AT ALL— he just sees it as whomever is yelling means their mad #So if Raphie boy was like: “I CARE ABOUT YOU AND LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH YOU DUMB ASS BITCH WHY CAN’T YOU JUST BE CAREFUL⁉️”#Leo would hear it as: “I HATE YOU SO MUCH RN WHY CAN’T YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT⁉️”#This fandom has been sleeping on AuDHD Leo for Y E A R S and I shall not be silent anymore its SOOOOOOO OBVIOUS 😭‼️#I could not remember the word “hypocritical” for the LIFE of me…when I searched it up I probs wrote “hippopotamus”#Leon is trying PLEAAAASE catch him a break 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾#Older twin Donnie is canon idgaf I was in the writers room TRUST 👏🏾💗💞💝💕#Big bro senses 🤝🏾 Twin senses #Donnie is fucking UNSTOPPABLE 🤌🏾…bud does need to learn how to control is volume when upset tho eheheheh #He genuinely doesn’t know when he’s gradually getting louder or more upset…that’s why he was so panicked when Leo had his lil meltdown LOL #Raphie just expresses his worry with yelling…ex: “AND NOT EAT POSION‼️‼️‼️”#Oh yeah this takes place a couple months after the Invasion…so everyone is like healed and everything but yk they’re still traumatized obvs #😌👍🏾#Leo’s lil tactic on dropping convo’s is a HC I have so don’t quote me on it 🙌🏾#GDGDGSHSN I ALSO NEED PPL TO DRAW DON WEARING HIS GLASSES MORE OFTEN HE’S SUCH A CUTIE PATOOTIE 💝💘💕💗💖💞💓🩷#But tysm Nonnie!!! This was a TON of fun to write!#Make sure your taking care of yourself and drinking water— or at least get a snack 🥰#But after the mission Raph was SEETHING…and usually Don tries to talk to Leon instead cuz like he doesn’t want either party being upset #Nor does he want either of them to feel overwhelmed. So when Leo was like “Ur doing this to me again?!” Hes referring to all the times Don #<- has done that #Leo doesn’t like feeling pitied but it’s not Don’s intention to make him feel that way he just loves him family

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myymi · 7 months

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“Sonic!” The mentioned hedgehog’s ear twitched at the call of his name, a single eye opening so he could look for who was calling for him.

It was Tails. The small fox was running towards him, a smile on his muzzle that Sonic could see clearly from his spot in the tree.

With a smile of his own forming, the teen hopped down from his perch. He stretched his arms up above his head as he watched the kit run up to him.

“Ms. Amy helped me make you something!” Tails’ smile was just about as wide as it could be as he came to a stop before the hedgehog, cupping his paws behind his back. The older couldn't help but chuckle at him, raising a brow once he noticed the batter-like substance that clung to the fur on his cheek.

He had a pretty good idea what that something is.

“Yeah?” Sonic asked softly, taking the kit’s chin in his paw to look at the batter. He licked his thumb before running it over the younger’s cheek, wiping away the batter. It smelled like chocolate.

Tails’ face scrunched up at the action, grimacing at the wet feeling running over his cheek. When the hedgehog was finished he wiggled out of his hold, using the back of his paw to wipe his cheek.

Sonic snorted as he wiped his paw on his leg, “Would that something happen to be a cake of some sort, buddy?”

“It's a surprise, Sonic!” Tails reminded, crossing his arms with a pout. The teen shook his head before raising his paws defensively–he's learned it's best to play along when his little brother adopts an attitude.

“Right, my bad.” Sonic closed his eyes and covered them with his right paw, extending the left one out to the younger. “Go on, take me to my top secret surprise, buddy.”

“You can't close your eyes now, Sonic.” The fox groaned, raising to his tiptoes to tug on the paw covering the older’s eyes. “We've gotta get to Ms. Amy's house first!” Sonic isn't sure why the kid kept calling her ‘Ms. Amy,’ she was only four years older than him. But he refused to drop the title, so they just kinda went with it. He'd grow out of it. Probably.

“Ohh, right. Obviously.” Deciding he wanted to mess with the kid a little bit more, he glanced down at the fancy little watch the fox made him. Taking note of the direction they needed to head to reach Amy's house, he turned and started walking in the opposite direction. “Let's go, then! Can't wait to–”

“Sonic!” Tails tightened his hold on the other's arm, pointing in the correct direction. “Her house is that way!”

“What? No way! it's definitely this way, li’l bro.” Sonic tugged his arm back just hard enough to pull the fox towards him a little.

Tails huffed at the action and spun his tails, taking to the air and quickly pulling the hedgehog up with him.

“Woah, woah, okay!” Sonic laughed, reaching up to pat the kid's paws. “I'll go the right way, promise.”

The kit’s eyes narrowed at his brother, but he ended up choosing to believe his word. He lowered the teen back to the ground, glancing at his own communicator to double check that he was right about the direction.

Sonic laughed and reached up to the flying fox, gently ruffling his bangs. The kit swatted his hand away, dropping to land beside him. His paws wrapped around his brother’s wrist once again so he could drag him down the path and back to the pink hedgehog’s house.

“Ease up on me, will ya, bud?” Sonic asked, though he didn't really care. He just wanted to be annoying. The fox rolled his eyes as he continued to pull his brother along. “It was an honest mistake!”

“Be happy you're still getting your gift.” Sonic wasn't really sure if it was normal for six year olds to grumble, but he figured it was best if he stopped pushing his luck. The kid had a pretty mean bite if provoked. Literally.

It was a short trip back to Amy's house. Sonic hadn't gone far on purpose, knowing the fox was still a little on edge being near others without him. It'd been a good few hours though, so he thinks it's safe to say the kiddo likes Amy.

“Found him!” Tails called out once they entered the house, letting go of the hedgehog’s wrist. He hurried to the kitchen to find the girl.

“Good!” Amy smiled sweetly at the fox as she carefully picked up a stand that held a small cake. “We worked really hard on this!”

Sonic couldn't help but snicker as he leaned against the doorway, “Figured it was a cake or something. Little guy carried some evidence in his fluff.” The kid shot him a glare, rolling his eyes when the teen winked at him.

“Well, when you have fun while baking it tends to get a bit messy.” The girl defended, walking over to present the treat to the older. “Now here!”

The cake was simple. It was small and circular, covered in a royal blue frosting with a line of bright red framing the bottom of the cake. The words ‘We Love You, Sonic!” were drawn out in, mostly, white frosting, with the ‘W’ being pink and the first ‘E’ being yellow.

Sonic could feel his heart swell up at the sight of it. It was typical of Amy to give him pastries with messages similar to this, but it was a new thing for Tails.

They didn't really vocalize their ‘I love you’s, it was just something between that went without saying. And while this wasn't technically saying it, he knew that the kid had to muster up a lot of courage for it.

With that knowledge, he carefully sped behind Amy to where the little fox was standing and trapped him in a hug. Tails squeaked at sudden contact, but started laughing when the hedgehog nuzzled his head.

“You did the decorating, didn't ya?” He asked, resting his chin atop the younger’s head. “It's just screaming you.”

“It's meant to represent you, Sonic,” Tails informed, trying his best to look up at the teen from their position.

“And it was a team effort, mister!” Amy scolded, huffing as she sat the stand on the counter. “We both baked and decorated it for you.”

“You know I'm just teasing, Ames.” Sonic sent the girl a grin, finally letting go of his little brother with a quick head ruffle, “It looks great though, really. Thanks.”

“Of course!” The pink hedgehog clapped her hands together excitedly and turned to the fox, “It was a pleasure to bake with Tails! He's really good.”

The youngest shrunk into himself at the compliment, muttering a quiet ‘thank you’ as his cheeks flushed red.

Amy smiled at him but decided to pivot away from his embarrassment, “Go ahead and sit down, I'll cut the cake!”

Sonic didn't argue with her and sat down at the table. Tails pushed a chair over so he could sit closer to his hero before climbing onto it.

“So, what flavoring did you two use, big guy?” The teen asked, emphasizing the 'two' so Amy knew he was crediting the both of them.

Tails giggled at his brother and looked over to the counter, “It's mint chocolate chip.”

“Mint, huh?” Sonic raised a brow, just barely managing to repress his snicker at the choice. “You sure this is for me?”

“No, the mint's for me. You won't eat the whole cake anyways.” The kit admitted looking down to his paws as he toyed with his gloves, his legs gently kicking as he waited for the treat.

“That is what's mainly for you.” Amy said as she sat the cake stand onto the table, nodding over to a small box on the counter next to the sink. “It's stuff for chili dogs for you two to cook later.”

“Oh, Ames, you didn't have to do that.” Sonic rubbed the back of his neck. He's mentioned struggling a little to get himself full meals with Tails tagging along, but he didn't mean to make her think she had to supply his food.

“It's no problem, Sonic!” The girl simply waved him off before using her knife to carefully pick up a slice of the cake and set it on Tails’ plate. “He mentioned how you guys have been cooking together lately and it's so cute!”

“Oh, yeah, it's a blast.” The teen decided to run with the topic change, setting his elbow on the table so he could rest his chin on his paw. “Little guy's pretty good. Won't be too long til he ends up being better than me.”

“Nuh uh! No way,” Tails firmly shook his end at that statement, moving around so he could sit on his knees to be taller. “I couldn't ever be better than you, Sonic.”

“No talking like that in my house, young man!” Amy scolded the fox with a stern look, reaching over to poke the tip of his nose. “I won't stand for it. Now let's enjoy this cake.”

Tails didn't argue, instead listening to the girl's command and taking a small bite of his slice of cake. He hummed around his fork, his twin tails wagging gently in delight.

Sonic wasn't surprised that the kid liked it. He'd eat anything mint flavored.

Meaningless conversation flowed between the three of them easily as they ate the cake. Sonic was glad that Tails was able to talk with someone other than him so effortlessly. It had been a long process, but they were making progress and that's all he cared about.

It didn't matter how long it'd take. His patience was endless when it came to his little brother, and he was more than happy to slow down for him.

#there's no angst this time i promise #just cute brother fluff #ft amy lol #i love her. i need to write her more ajsndje #miles tails prower #sonic the hedgehog #sth #tails the fox #sonic #unbreakable bond #dynamic duo #tails and amy rose #pinky lemonade #sonic and amy #myydrabs #i wanna write more for the brothers but ive gotta do chores ahhdbdjddn #life why are you so cruel

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onehundredfallenpetals · 1 year

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We could dance the tears away, Emancipate ourselves, We'll cry later or cry now, But baby heartbreak feels so good

#persona 5 #persona 5 royal #shuake #amamiya ren #akeshu #persona 5 protagonist #akechi goro #goro akechi #my art #artists on tumblr #I have had this art idea for so long and then fob brought out this song giving me a caption for it <3 #song is Heartbreak Feels So Good for anyone who doesn't know it btw #Took ages for me to decide I would actually be able to do it justice and start on this and I enjoyed making it so much #I need more angst art ideas if anyone has any lol

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isjasz · 1 year

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The brainrot continues (Blame @vesperionnox and @cherrysherin we are dragging the whole server down with this au)

Part 1

#desert duo #LoSBotwAU #grian #goodtimeswithscar #pearlescentmoon #solidaritygaming #desert duo au #totk spoilers #if you squint #my art #isdoodles #i thought i got over this -> gets dragged back into this au immediately upon one mention #i really should have a tag for this au but i have no idea LMAO IT HAS PPL FROM HC EMPIRES AND LIFE SERIES HOW ARE U SUPPOSED TO NAME IT #the struggle has been resolved: jimmy is now a rito because canary dying first is just too good #scheduled so i dont procrastinate on posting this again #tumblr only bc bless tumblr for accepting more than 4 images <3 i have no idea how to post these on twt so nope LOL #(edit: nvm i caved im still gonna post some)#goddamn i need to get in the habit of posting more or THEY ALL PILE UP #OFOJASIOEJEKALJKSJ IM SO NORMAL OVER THIS AUUUUU #tho it has been slowing turning from desertduo angst into we must draw everyone in this au and put grian in links every outfit #still id call that a win #and btw feel free to send me any ask about this au ill be happy to answer HASJAHHAS #insanity in a nutshell: whatever this is #yeah idk what the dark link one means either idk enough about his lore to make sense of it HELPDDP #THE CRISIS HAS BEEN RESOLVED IT HAS A TAG NOW CHECK IT OUT HEHEHEHRH #yep its just the legend of scar we are geniuses LMAOAOAO

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kaeyachi · 7 months

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Kaeya had always been an efficient and hard-working individual (he had to be to support Diluc in the background as his brother rose thru the ranks after all).

He has so much free time because he completes all his work way ahead of schedule. And if he still has enough time, he adds more to the workload in secret.

And once all of that was done and over with, he makes time for everyone. He has to. He feels as if every moment has to be given to someone else.

No one knows how he does it. No one has to know.

Every mission has a dozen strategies in line, and every battle plan is made with efficiency in mind. His perfect record will not be tarnished. He can't risk it (even if it baffles others that he would willingly activate a ruin guard just to prevent a failed mission. Jean disagrees with his methods, but Kaeya can say that the results say otherwise)

He needs to be quick.

Efficient.

Perfect.

And so he comes and goes like the wind.

Kaeya values time because he knew every second counted. He can't just stand there as if he were frozen. Time could run out in an instant.

Kaeya had only been late once his entire life.

He'd rather he never be late ever again.

It took one day of being of being imperfect for everything to fall apart. On that tragic day...had he gotten there on time... then maybe...

" Come on, let's get moving, traveler. We're not frozen in place after all. " Kaeya teasingly says. He stiffles a giggle at the traveler's exhasperated sigh.

"Yeah yeah, we've heard enough of you calling us a slacker. Can't you be a bit more patient?" Paimon whines at him.

Kaeya snorts, but acquiesces, hiding the shaking of his hands at the thought of being idle.

He imagines hearing a clock ticking.

Kaeya knows that that is his own problem. He tries his hardest to relax as he waits for the traveler to finish whatever they're making on the alchemy table because, seriously, it is supposed to be a relaxing day. There's nothing major going on, and his schedule is once again empty as intended. What's the hurry?

Kaeya taps his foot on the ground as he waits. He wishes he could take his own damn advice when he tells others to relax.

#kaeyachi randoms #kaeya #kaeya alberich #this is actually shorter than it originally was can yall believe?#kaeya with anxiety truther there i said it #kaeya cant stand being IDLE #get it? get it?#you see that is a play of words in reference to when he is stood idle on our screens. he is one of the more verbally impatient characters #and we also see it reflected on his actions both in fighting and at work. he has a speed boost bonus and if he isnt teleporting he is #actually moving so fast that he seems like it. this is what i also concluded that results him in large amounts of free time that only amber #seemed to be hardpressed about. the people of mondstadt find him reliable and approachable despite the lax attitude and frequent nights at #angels share. we also had lore tidbits before of kaeya straight up saying he finished all his work and jean saying that he also did the #backlogged ones. It is actually insane that we hear him relaxing frequently and i bet its not because of the lack of horses COZ LOOK AT HOW #BUSY THE OTHER CAPTAINS ARE. Also id like to think that he is a toned down noelle and that is why jean told him to watch over her training #give us noelle and kaeya interactions pls i kinda need it tbh #to all those that reached this far into the notes i actually have more to say so get ready #if it wasnt clear the only day he was late was when crepus died. everything fell apart for him that day so i can see some obsessive need to #just keep running around and doing things as efficient as possible. I also think that he found the knights slow and inefficient in several #occasions and he is willing to put them in the line of fire just to get their hearts pumping with adrenaline (and fear lol). idk kaeya is #just so anxiety-coded. impatience-core. Mr. dont waste my time type of guy. and also wow look i found a way to make his idles become angst #silly me ehe #oh youre still here? how about i tell you that kaeya-efficiency-alberich probably knows where everyone is at any time of the day?#can we honestly please give him more free time i need more of him tbh #fun reminder that bro is working around 3-4 jobs casually lmao #i also just realized that the notes is a whole nother post on its own #AND THE ACTUAL FUNNY PART IS I CAN STILL ELABORATE MORE ON THIS LMAO #wait let me add this one tiny idea too but he thinks time is so valuable. bro lost 2 dads and lost time with his bro + he significantly #lessened his time at dawn winery for quite some time. i can see why he is extroverted now.

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hualianisms · 5 months

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something i find tragic and messed up is how XL's worst trauma and HC's worst trauma are the same event - XL being stabbed 100 times. why that was traumatic for XL is self-explanatory. for HC, witnessing that was so traumatic that it single-handedly turned him into a supreme ghost king. it was the trauma of being powerless, watching his beloved go through hell unable to do a thing to stop it.

this trauma directly parallels HC's original childhood trauma, of being powerless as a child who couldn't defend himself from his bullies and abusers. he hates himself and judges himself very harshly for being "weak" as a child, blaming himself for his own trauma. just see the way he treats e'ming (who i believe represents the emotions of his child self), the way he drew himself in his mural, and the way he treated the statue of hong hong-er in the extras, and you can guess how HC views his child self.

HC's trauma response was to spend 800 years becoming the strongest possible, extremely wealthy and powerful so that he can protect and provide for his beloved the way he never could when he was a human kid or a small ghost. he also wanted to be as strong as possible so that he never has to feel like that "weak" child again. the trauma of powerlessness truly shapes so much of HC's personality

#tgcf #hua cheng #tgcf meta #my meta #just crossposting twt threads #he hates vulnerability so much and has so much self loathing sometimes #but also its soo fun to write characters who hate vulnerability bc u have to get creative when writing them being vulnerable and the angst #mp: tgcf #i need to rmb to crosspost my twt threads more bc stuff on twt is impossible to keep track of lol #theres more to say about this topic but im too physically tired rn

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ozzo-the-wozzo · 3 months

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I need to you guys to stay with me and imagine Adrien Agreste experimenting with what to wear after he quits modeling but being hopelessly lost on where to start so, after much consideration, he gets the brilliant idea to mimic his friends clothing aesthetics.

So naturally one week he’s wearing a backwards cap and baggy jeans in an attempt to mimic Nino who is ecstatic and another he’s wearing a lot of flannel which makes Alya roll her eyes and another him and Marinette are practically twins much to his delight until she gently tells him he only likes it because they are matching and he should probably keep looking until he finds something that is his own.

But instead he just keeps on mimicking classmate after classmate until he runs through them all and he starts talking to Kagami who’s figuring things out herself and doesn’t provide much to go off of and he settles on wearing suits until someone mistakes him for Felix.

So then he decides to move on from people and starts to look on Pinterest at Marinette’s suggestion and he copies the outfits down to a science but why does everything STILL feel not right? He decides it’s the website so he moves on and copies what he sees in magazines and in ads and it feels a little better but he also feels a little sick when he does it and why isn’t anything right and he’s twisting the ring on his finger so much it’s leaving a mark and hes pacing around the mansion and it has so many portraits and his dad is in all of them and why is he suddenly getting the feeling nothing he puts on will ever be right and why in the world does this stupid ring feel so heavy.

And so after a month of experimenting, he gets up in the morning one day and decides to try on the outfit he always used to wear and attempts to do his grown out hair the old way and looks in the mirror and stares at himself for a while. He slips on his sneakers and then the door rings and he heads downstairs to meet Marinette for school. As they’re walking he is still trying to decipher what he feels and he suddenly realizes that his dad would like this outfit a lot. He smiles to himself and tells Marinette and she smiles weakly and says she supposes he would and then avoids his eyes.

Adrien feels that familiar twist in his stomach that tells him something isn’t right, but when he tries to reflect on why that would be he’s only met with the same fuzzy memories of his father that he can’t quite sort out. He wonders if that’s where the unease comes from but then he shakes his head because those memories must be good because his father died a hero.

And so he wears the same outfit he always wore, ignoring the fact it feels a little too tight on him and that it makes his new ring feel heavier than ever.

#I guess I accidentally wrote a mini fic for what was supposed to be a head canon but SUE ME #YES THIS IS ME TRYING TO JUSTIFY ADRIEN WEARING HIS FUCKASS OUTFIT IN SEASON 6 #BUT ALSO #THINK ABOUT IT #ADRIEN BREAKING FREE OF HIS FATHERS CONTROL RING WISE #BUT ONCE AGAIN FALLING INTO IT DUE TO THE UNIVERSE ITSELF MANIPULATING HIM BC ITS ONE MADE BY HIS FATHER #(see my ml Truman show theory in case ur curious as to what I mean lol)#this post can be interpreted many ways tho bc outside of fantastical elements #I feel as though children who finally break free from the control of their abusive parents still battle with some need to appease them #for a while #so Adrien might grow out his hair a bit but not change his outfit out of…guilt?#idk I’m writing this at 1 am I’m a mess #I’ll be more coherent in the morning #miraculous ladybug #mlb #ml #adrien agreste #ml headcanons #ml theory #ml season 6 #mine #ml Truman show theory #ml angst #ml Adrien angst

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sealofarchives · 4 months

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Could you create a headcanon for ‘Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ about what kind of fathers Leo, Raph, Donnie, and Mikey would be? I find this idea fun. :3

Headcanon: Rise!Turtles being dads and sweetest husband to the reader (Separate) (Requested prompt)

A/N: I'm still uncomfortable with the idea of aging up the guys towards "mature content."

However, this idea was really cute. It only made sense for this prompt where the guys are aged up with some reference to their bad end!future selves. I went with around early 30's when the turtle of your choice and the reader are in a committed relationship and currently raising a kid at the moment.

So please have common sense and think before typing some snarky response with 'oh aged up content is bad lol' (Because I will put those ideas on the 'do not write list' if people get too weird about it...)

Raph

You know how he has the habit of that one baby voice with Mayhem. (and a bit of the hey buddy tone towards Mikey or Donnie)

- His kid is never gonna escape from it. (even by the time the kid is a grown up)

He definitely panicked for a bit when his kid (during the energetic toddler phase) enjoyed climbing over a big guy like him.

- So he had to ask Donnie to make a battle shell specifically as a soft cushion. So the spiky shell doesn't accidentally scratch the kid.

Part of him is worried anytime he has to scold his kid. And only when you're around is when he feels okay to do so.

- He definitely does the "Did you ask (Y/N) if you could have another cookie?" sort of question. (Sometimes willing to go along with what his kid wants or following (Y/N) if he got caught spoiling the kid)

You're getting at least one peck on the cheek by the end of the day.

- Or earlier in the day if he accidentally woke you up.

Compared to his younger self who slightly whined about chores, he grew to enjoy it when both of you worked on it together.

- Laundry being one example where you're usually folding clothing fresh from the dryer. And he stacks a pile back into the clean basket/hamper.

His eyesight in the right eye has gotten a bit worse. (not as bad as his bad end counterpart where he needs an eyepatch) But, you often act as his extra set of eyes and call out to any surprise attacks.

- Which earned the title of you two with a tag team couple and he still blushes thinking about it.

Leo

Every few hours before a night patrol, he always checks in to see what his kid is up to and often gives a hug before leaving.

Often gives bedtime stories through retellings of Lou Jitsu's movies or Jupiter Jim's comics.

- Even acting out of some of the scenes before a yawn decides its time to sleep.

Gave one of his spare bandana scarves to his kid.

- Had the biggest grin on his face when the kid realized "Oh hey! We're matching!!!"

Almost similar to the night patrol part, but if you can't make it because of work or some other boring life detour.

- Its a portal away for a light hang out sesh. For both of you to take a breather away from the grown up life.

Late night conversations are just a regular thing between the two of you.

- Especially when he couldn't sleep. By the time he almost dozes off to sleep in your arms, he still playfully teases you that your voice is soothing to him.

When light conversations about the bad end future was brought up during a casual match of video games, he was never used to the idea that he had a prosthetic arm.

- You instantly hugged his right arm, jokingly reassuring him.

"As long as you can crack a joke in the most serious moment. I'll still know that its you Leo."

"Even in a timeline where, me and the guys were raised by Draxum?"

You gave the red slider turtle a 'really?' pout before he hugged you into his lap.

"Nah I'm just kidding, but for real though. Draxum's former henchmen are still goofballs that know their way around the city. I'm pretty sure that Leo could get a couple of one liners and maybe from you as well."

Donnie

Almost went into a frenzy trying to child-proof the lair. (Especially the month before the kid's arrival changed the atmosphere) But eventually settled down.

- Realizing it would have stressed his kid out by any sudden new changes (and a bit of his family and your help explaining the reasoning as well)

Leo's showboating energy transferred to him but, in a way that, the softshell turtle is very grateful. That he has you as a spouse and both of you raising a kid along side his sentient inventions. And will try to bring it up in any conversation.

- The whole wallet photo gag of him showing family pictures. You love this silly turtle but, usually lightly pinch his face if its the wrong time for that.

He lights up whenever his kid goes to him for any sort of question.

- He slightly restrains himself to avoid going overboard with the answer. But, his kid is smart enough to know that and sometimes tells you that he's not being himself again.

Cannot force himself to sleep unless you're beside him. (or if you have to drag him to bed yourself)

- The few times where he woke up while you were still sleeping. He always gives you a light hug and a kiss on the forehead before getting out of bed.

He subtly took interest in one of your hobbies. (Either an ongoing or a new one) Just so he can step away from a tedious project that was going nowhere and not bother you with the boring details about it.

- Sometimes mentioning a fun fact to impress you.

You gave into his idea of letting your kid have a similar weapon like Casey Jr's.

- Only when they reached their 13th birthday and learning the basics of: constructing it and fixing parts along side their dad. How to use it defensively, offensively, and etc.

Mikey

Considering how his future self had some hair on his head, he kept it long so he can do a few matching embarrassing baby photos to his kid.

- Like giving the kid a tiny ponytail and etc. He definitely cried a bit while having his signature grin when the kid pulled too hard on his hair, laughing at one of his jokes. And you had to step in to help him.

He knows how to work around some of his kid's picky eating habits. Usually making sure his kid is having fun or decorating the plate in an artistic manner.

- However, there are times when the kid can hide the veggie or fruit out of plain sight. Or his kid asks his uncles for help when Mikey's focused on some other thing.

Absolutely does that peek-a-boo trick with hiding his face or whole body into his shell.

- He was nervous at first, if the trick might have scared his kid but, no the kid was giggling. Curiously crawling towards him in awe of it.

Will sometimes make meals ahead of time. (often being, if you returned from work, too exhausted to greet him)

- Either leaving a note on a plastic container in the fridge of: [(Y/N)'s breakfast: DO NOT EAT unless you want an surprise session with Dr Delicate Touch </3] (this also applies to lunch as well)

On very rare occasions, he will temporary wear a cloaking brooch. If you're at an area isn't very friendly towards mutants and/or yokai.

- The one time that happened, is when you forgot to bring your lunch at a job that barely lasted a week. (Stuff that was out of your control but, he was relieved that you got out of that place before your coworkers decided to physically fight back at the manager)

Spends at least one day in the week with you to do some light meditative exercises.

- On the really bad days, he doesn't mind letting you hold his hand as a stress ball or just have a quiet moment to relax while his brothers babysit your kid.

#rottmnt x reader #raph x reader #rise raph x reader #leo x reader #rise leo x reader #donnie x reader #rise donnie x reader #mikey x reader #rise mikey x reader #I added the husband part because I couldn't think of anything else #like without making the dad portion too similar to each other #despite some of splinter's questionable parenting habits he really raised good turtles #so I went towards more lighthearted goofy stuff because my heart cannot take angst (bad end future was already enough for me lol TT w TT)#I already have a biased who's my favorite but this is the first time I'm struggling to write about f!leo #I need help lol

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