#and it made the Fragile mechanic pretty meaningless too

[suits-of-woe]

Hi! Multiples of 4 for Edmund on the headcanon ask??? Thank you so much!❤️

Thank you!!! I know I never shut up about my boy, thank you for continuing to enable me. This is gonna be really, really long I can’t wait…

I’ll tag @princess-of-france too :)

4. What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

I don’t really feel like Edmund cooks. He’s practical but he’s also rich and has better things to do, so I imagine his diet is like 50% black coffee and energy bars he keeps stashed around the house and 50% super expensive meals he manages to make other people pay for. So in that case he’d probably just eat one of the aforementioned energy bars (or ask some even-richer woman out to dinner for the night, cause he’s like that).

8. Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging

Oh man. Sex. SO much sex. To the point where it’s a legitimate problem, even though he doesn’t see it as one. The thing is, I don’t think he’s super pro-indulgence as a rule – in fact, he probably looks down on people who don’t have good self-control, especially when it comes to things that are proven to be bad, like over-eating or smoking or things like that. But sex doesn’t fall into that category for him, all the reasons he’s been told to avoid it he sees as moralist bullshit, and it’s fun and it’s not hurting anyone so fuck you, why shouldn’t he do it? The issue is deep down sex is also a huge coping mechanism for him, and the only way he knows how to deal with his intense obsession with affection without just 100% repressing it all the time or, worse, being emotionally vulnerable. But I don’t think he realizes how much it’s become a psychological need for him, and how hard it would be to stop. It’s not that he couldn’t stop, he’d say. It’s just that stopping is exactly what all those moralist assholes he hates would want him to do, so why should he?

12. Favorite book genre?

Edgy social commentary probs. I don’t picture Edmund really being the type to read much fiction, but at the same time, I think certain books mean a lot to him. He’s spent his whole life concealing his controversial views on religion, fate, society, sex, basically everything from Gloucester (and to a lesser extent Edgar) in favor of putting on the guise of a perfect traditionally moral son so I think being able to deal with all those hidden ideas through reading about then would really help. He’s probably got a whole hidden stash somewhere in his room he knows his father will never find.

16. Biggest and smallest long term goal?

His biggest long term goal is just to rise to the top as much as he can. I don’t think he’s the kind of person who likes to set limits on his own ambition – he looks at opportunities one step at a time, but if the doors keep opening, who is he to stop? If he can be Gloucester’s heir? Great. If he can overthrow Gloucester entirely? Better. If he can become king? Best of all, but hell, even then he might not stop. Smallest? Ummm idk maybe get his space totally organized. I feel like he’s the kind of person whose organization never quite catches up with his work, and he always says he’s got better things to do than shuffle papers around, but it secretly kind of drives him crazy so he’d like to be totally neat someday.

20. Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

I imagine Edmund has always been pretty robust and healthy (unlike Edgar, probably) and never really got sick that often, even as a kid. That said, on the rare occasion that he did, I think it was a really bad time for him. Cause like I’ve talked about a million times I think Edmund is very driven by his constant deep need for affection, but it’s the kind of thing he can usually repress on a day-to-day basis as long as all his inhibitions are intact. When they aren’t intact, 9 times out of 10 it’s because he’s drunk/high, which is almost always in some kind of party setting, which means he’s pretty much guaranteed to be able to find someone to at least make out with for a bit to make those feelings go away. But if he’s sick enough to be feverish, it’s pretty much the only time he’s both emotionally uninhibited and unable to use sex as a coping mechanism, and it doesn’t go well. Plus with Edgar being more fragile (and, in my headcanon, his mother dying from sickness at an early age too) Gloucester pretty much keeps all members of the family away from him for fear of anything spreading, so he’s pretty much all alone and left with all that unadulterated loneliness he’s not used to feeling half this much and it’s bad. It’s really bad. He tries not to think about it.

24. Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

He’s honestly ahead of the curve in pretty much every subject. He’s a brilliant silver-tongued wordsmith, he’s a super logic and evidence-driven thinker which I think would make him great at math and science, he’s athletic too, and just generally sharp and good at picking up new things. The only thing I think he’d be bad at is any interpretation of art (and to a lesser extent literature) because I think he’d get too frustratingly literal about it – it’s just lines on a page, dammit, it doesn’t mean anything, people will try to find patterns out of anything but the real world is meaningless and there’s nothing really there. In terms of what interests him the most though, it’s politics, which is what drives him insane because that’s the one thing he’ll never be allowed to pursue.

28. Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

Depends on the era of his life. I don’t think he has anyone he considers even a real friend, let alone a best friend, when we see him in the play. When he was younger he would have said Edgar, but that ship sailed a long time ago. Now, he doesn’t really do genuine friendship. There are people he likes, but no one he wouldn’t throw under the bus in a heartbeat if that’s what it took. Similarly, I think he tries not to see anyone as his worst enemy. It’s the world that’s his enemy, and society, and it’s a matter of a lot more than taking down one person to beat that. But really, I think it’s Gloucester he hates more than anyone. That part of the plan is more personal than he’d probably admit.

32. Thoughts on material possessions in general?

He’s not big on them…until they become something he can’t have. Like he’s certainly not the overly-sentimental type to hang onto things he doesn’t need, and I think he sees a lot of material wealth and status symbols as really inherently shallow. But the second those shallow wealth and status symbols are denied him, or used to mark him as lesser, then he’ll be damned if he’s not getting his hands on them if it’s the last thing he does.

36. What makes them feel guilty?

People actually loving and respecting him on their own, not because he manipulated them or did them favors or somehow cheated to get their approval. So much of how he justifies everything he does is the fact that, as a bastard, he thinks he’ll never have half a shot at the advantages everyone else gets, so if he wants anyone to approve of him or admire him or show him affection he has to manipulate the hell out of them (or the situation in general) to get it. He’s convinced himself it’s the only way, so when that’s proven wrong, it rocks his world. There’s a reason “Yet Edmund was belov’d” comes the line before finally changes his mind and tries to do something good.

40. Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

Both? One? Or neither? Neither can be en- just kidding it’s BOTH and it’s a problem. He’s been looked down on his entire life for being a bastard and that cuts deep, it always has, no matter how hard he tries to shrug it off. He’ll never really get rid of the idea that he’s lesser, or at least everyone considers him lesser, so he has to claw his way to every bit of advantage and approval he can get. But he also really believes that birth means nothing, that merit and intelligence and survival of the fittest should determine who rises to the top, and in that respect…he maybe overcompensated. Because he also manages to be a raging narcissist who thinks he’s smarter than everyone around him (to be fair, he mostly is) and is entitled to anything he can win for himself.

44. Religion?

MY EDGY ATHEIST KING. I think he’s super anti-religion, and anti-spirituality even more so – just anything that involves people blaming their fates or their decisions on forces out of their control or pretending like anything is just “meant to be” makes him incredibly angry. That does fall under the category of things he won’t admit to preserve his image though, he’ll grit his teeth through whatever religious proceedings are required of him if it’s to his advantage.

48. How do they express love?

Ummm badly? He craves other people’s love constantly, but him actually being the one feeling Real Love isn’t something he’s really prepared to deal with, and it kind of makes him freak out. By the time he’s really headed down the road of executing his plans, I think the main way he expresses love is by trying to get the people he loves far, far away from him and this world and his path of destruction. On a more general note though like I said in that post I made a while ago I think his main love language is physical touch, so when he’s not in such a dark place that either results in lots of hugs or lots of sex depending on the person.

#at this point i'm not even gonna apologize for my inability to be succinct #if you follow me you know what you're getting into by now #you've brought me upon yourself #anyway GUESS WHO'S TALKING ABOUT HIM™ AGAIN #these were so fun #i still don't have a specific universe idea for all my lear headcanons so these are like half modern half play accurate half idek #but these are my thoughts on him in general #edmund #king lear #mine #asks

[cosmicpolaris]

From @teetlebros list of prompts, which she wrote like a long time ago, but I just write as slow as a snail, comes my Donnie-centred one-shot. Enjoyyy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At first, it was just a small cut, nothing serious. Injuries happened, especially in their field of work. Nonetheless, Donnie felt like he had to hide it, so he did.

Just the thought of his brothers fussing over him about some minor wound was irritating the soft shell. He had noticed a long time ago that they were cautious with him. Always prying around to check if he hadn't hurt himself or something along those lines.  

Donnie detested being babied by them. A casual visit from Raph in his lab. Probably to check up on him. Leo and Mikey snooping around. Eighty percent of the reasons were connected to the purple-clad turtle's well-being.

They didn't even have to say anything for Donnie to figure it out. It was written on their faces.

In his eyes, the first step towards independence was the battle shell and his upgraded Bo staff. You can't hurt what you can't touch, right?

Even now and then, he would get a couple of bruises and cuts, but brush them off just as easily. He wasn't delicate. There was no way in seven hells he would prove Leo, Mikey, and Raph right.

"Donnie twelve o'clock!" Mikey shouted swinging Repo Mantis with his Kusari-Fundo in Donnie's direction.

The genius turtle quickly turned his head in the direction of the shout. He jumped right in time and managed to kick Repo Mantis in the chest, but not before the mutant could hit him with his free front leg, hard.

Donnie was sent flying back with a lot of force. He hit the ground with a grunt and a loud crack coming from his shoulder. The turtle bit back a pressing scream of pain and his eyes watered.  

His shoulder was definitely dislocated. There was no need for further proof to conclude this.

On the other side of the field, Raph punched the giant mantis with his tonfa one last time before he fell unconscious. Leo and Mikey were already by Donnie's side, checking if he was alright. Raph quickly joined his brothers.

"You okay, D?" The big snap turtle questioned, a tint of worry evident in his voice.  

"I am fine," Donnie, who had managed to sit, waved at him with his good arm. His left one was hanging by his side, completely still. The brainiac didn't want to cause himself unnecessary pain by moving it.

"This doesn't look fine," Leo pointed to his left arm.

Mikey nodded his head in approval "Yeah, Bug man hit you pretty hard, D. Are sure you are--"

"For a second time. I am fine," Donnie cut out his younger brother, emphasizing on 'fine'.

A dislocated shoulder wasn't a big deal. He would just pop it back himself when they get back to the lair. To prove his point even further, the purple bandana wielder stood up from the ground. "Let's just go home."

The others were still reluctant and sharing uneasy looks with each other.

Donnie felt the old feeling of burning irritation creep back in and started walking away on his own. Just as he suspected, his brothers followed.

Once they were in the Turtle Tank, Donnie operated exactly as he would if his shoulder was alright. It was extremely painful, but he couldn't let his brothers know how bad it was.

Every now and then they were sneaking a glance or two at him. Most notably Leo. Donnie tried not to notice him in any way.

Back at the lair, the four turtles were ready for some well deserved relax and tons of pizza. However, one of them immediately withdrew to his laboratory upon arrival.

Donatello closed the big metal door behind him with his good arm and headed to the table full of gadgets. He pushed most of them aside to have working space.

"This is going to hurt," The turtle muttered to himself.  

Very carefully, but not painlessly, Donnie popped his shoulder back together as gently as he could. However, it didn't work without a couple of pained shouts, which much to his regret brought his brother’s attention.

Right after Donnie finished with his shoulder, Raph opened slightly the door and peeked inside with a worried, but caring expression.

"Hey buddy, are you doing alright?" The bigger turtle asked.

"I am fine, Raph," Donnie replied, propping himself at the table with only his right arm, his back facing his brother and biting back the throbbing pain. He would definitely need ice for that.

"Are you sure? Because we heard--"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I am FINE," The purple-clad turtle raised his voice at the end of the sentence, which made Raph step back in surprise.

His younger brother's yell left him a little stunned, but Raph regained his composure a little confused and backed away slowly. "Okay," He looked around uneasily, "if you need something just say so."

After Raph left, Donnie let out a sigh and rubbed his shoulder. It was close. Too close for his liking. He would have to be more careful in the future.

The following injuries weren’t as extensive as the dislocated shoulder. Donnie, of course, kept them secret as well and brushed them off as easily as someone would a fly. He did everything he could to seem as if everything was alright every time he got hurt in a fight.

However, his brothers had noticed his reserved behavior and started watching more closely. The boys couldn’t help, but concern about the smarter turtle.

One day, as ordinary as the previous one, proved to be a breaking point for the purple-clad teenager. The wound wasn’t significant. To the used to injury Donnie, it would have seemed pretty minor in any other circumstances. It happened on a patrol. Donatello still couldn't believe that something as stupid as a strained muscle would fail his cover so easy. He shouldn’t have gone patrolling after sitting in his lab for long periods of time. His poor muscles have stiffened, but he brushed it off just like every other little inconvenience.

He just couldn’t prove his brothers right in any way. Never. If this happened, they would never treat him as equal. Their behavior towards him had always been slightly different than how they used to act with each other. Some stuff were too dangerous for little, fragile Donnie. Well, he had demonstrated time and time again how wrong they were. Who could know that all his hard work would collapse upon something so meaningless?

“Ouch!” He groaned when sharp pain shot daggers into his leg. Donnie reached to massage the strained muscle, praying none of his brothers had heard.

He had no luck with the latter. All three other turtles turned at the same time when they heard their brother wail.

“I am fine,” Don automatically mumbled, the word long engraved deeply into his mind. He without waiting for them to speak. what they would ask was already crystal clear to him.

‘Are you alright?’

‘What happened?’

‘Are you sure, Donnie?’

The questions he despised so much, started reciting in his mind and with every word grew the frustration he had been suppressing for so long. He kept rubbing his sore muscle, looking at the ground until the skin warmed under the touch. Donnie stood up, despite the pain.

“Let’s keep going,” He casually waved at his brothers and took a couple of steps ahead to quell every drop of doubt that could go through their heads.

“Maybe we should go home. We have done enough patrolling for the night,” Raph suggested. Leo and Mikey nodded in agreement. As for Donnie, he just rolled his eyes. It appeared that whatever he did just wasn't enough. He would always be the delicate Donnie to them. It made him so angry, so much it actually burned behind his eyes as if the anger had materialized.

“Can you just stop?” He asked in disbelief, not expecting an actual answer. “All of this fussing and coddling like I am some child!” Unconsciously, his voice was rising with every word, until it turned into a desperate shout, powered by years of different treatment, because of his soft shell.

“Donnie, we are just trying to--”

“Protect me?” Donnie finished for Raph with a bitter chuckle. “I don’t want to be protected and sheltered. I can do this good enough on my own,” He pointed at his battle shell. Donatello was well aware of his disadvantages, but that never meant he wanted to be cherished like a porcelain vase made for decoration.

“Well, sorry for thinking about your safety,” Leo spoke with a sarcastic tone.

“Donnie, we don’t want anything bad to happen to you,” Mikey said with glossy eyes. “It wasn't meant to make you sad.”

Mikey’s trembling voice didn’t seem to affect Donnie. He was at a whirl weaved by fierce emotions and was just getting started.

“Sad?! That is a mild way to put it. Try with angry.” Donatello deadpanned. “And guess what, Michael, people get hurt, terrible things happen all the time. There is no way to stop that, so quit  babying me to make yourselves feel better.” The words were coming out harshly and his hand cut through the air horizontally in an asserting gesture.

“Wow, wow,” Leo stepped ahead with hands raised in front of him. “That was quite enough. There is absolutely no need to be this cruel. We were just looking out for you like brothers do.”

“Like when you never let me be the mummy,” Donnie narrowed his eyes. “Like when we were kids and you always went easy on me, because little weak Donnie can’t play rough.” The turtle shook his head slightly and chuckled sadly. “I always believed I ruined your games that way. Was that your idea of looking after me? Place me on a pedestal like I need special attention, handle me like I am so kind of," Donnie stopped and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "...burden."

Suddenly, he felt cold sting his exposed skin. Would it always be like this? Would he always be inadequate to be anything more than just a big brain? Always too delicate, too fragile. A liability, burden to his brothers. More than anything, he wanted to lock himself in his lab for days and be left alone. The turtle found himself longing for the mechanical hum of his inventions. At least, the machines wouldn’t judge him or treat him differently for who he was.

The other turtles were looking at their brother, unable to utter a single word. The said had left them shell-shocked. They never knew how many things Donnie had kept for himself. Mikey stared down at his feet, tears shining distinctly in his eyes, feeling guilty for making his big brother miserable. Raph was at the verge to start apologizing rapidly to Donnie and Leo just kept glancing from side to side, completely at a loss of words - a rare phenomenon.

Donnie shook his head one more time, before going to the fire exit on the left side of the rooftop and climbing down towards the empty dark alley. Without waiting for a reaction from his brothers, he lifted the man cover and slid down the rusty ladder with the intention to get to his workshop as fast as possible.

A couple of very silent days followed. Donatello did his best to avoid his brothers around the lair. The task proved not to be very complicated as he wasn’t leaving his laboratory much. Even Leo, Mikey and Raph weren’t very talkative around each other. Each one felt it was their fault for pushing Donnie to his breaking point and thus for his outburst. In time, every little wince and twitch made sense to them. It wasn’t among their intentions to make Donnie hide his wounds and feel miserable.

On the fourth day, the three turtles started to warm up to one another again, after strained atmosphere had scattered.

On the fifth day, they were standing in front of Donnie’s lab, a little nervous.

“Come on, we have to do this,” Raph urged them and they all entered together.

Donnie had his back turned towards them and was intensively working on something. After his outburst on the roof, the strong need to feel productive had filled him and he took it as his mission to finish as much of his started projects as possible. That left him on little sleep and lots of coffee.

Leo cleared his throat, “ Um, D.”

Donnie jumped and turned at the sudden sound, his mechanical hands spread in all directions. “I almost got a heart attack!” ’

“Sorry,” Mikey said with a sheepish look on his face and hands hidden behind his back.

“We have something for you, buddy,” Raph smiled warmly.

“Which is?” The purple-clad turtle asked, trying to seem uninterested, even if he was genuinely curious.

As if he was given some sort of cue, Mikey went right in front of Donnie and extended his arms. In them the youngest turtle was holding a drawing of the four brothers, each drawn with their respective color.

“We made a picture,” Leo explained as if it wasn’t obvious enough. “Each one of us drew themselves and let Mikey do you as well himself, for obvious reasons,” he said referring to his and Raph’s terrible artistic skills.

“It shows all of us playing the mummy game,” Mikey continued, “and look,” he pointed at the colored in purple figure, “you are the mummy this time.”

“And we can play now too,” Leo suggested, “ If you would like.”

“We are sorry we made you feel like you have to hide from us and for the babying,” Raph said, touching his two index fingers in one another. “We will stop if it makes you feel better.”

“You were never a burden to us, Donnie, never,” Leo added, a caring expression on his face.

“We love you so much,” Mikey said, still holding the drawing for his brother to see.

Donnie looked at their faces one by one and after short anticipation, smiled and took the picture from Mikey. There was no point in being mad at them anymore. Not after that apology. Their words had warmed him up in a way he didn't expect they would. Plus, his brothers never meant to hurt him in the first place. And Donnie had truly missed their adventures and pizza nights. Working in his lab was something he loved, but his brothers were on an entirely different level. And this little gesture proved that even further.

“What are you waiting for, come on.” He spread his arms open and the other three ran in for a hug.

The warm embrace of his brothers, melted every bitterness his soul had kept and Donatello felt safe. Safer than he ever felt with the battle shell strapped to his back. Not because he couldn't get hurt, but because he was shown he was truly loved.

#rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt2k18 #donatello tmnt #angst #i think it counts as angst #tmnt leonardo #raphael tmnt #michelangelo tmnt