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#sometimes he just goes turtle

iwasforceedagainstmywill · 1 year

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Rottmnt Headcanons!? not really

More like a crackfic concept really

I've seen the headcanon that Leo or Raph as Casey Junior's Dad (Adoptive dad ) and I like it.

But Imagine if it was biological.

Don't think about the logistics just think about how funny it is.

Because the idea that they discover it in the dumbest way. Like they assume he called (which ever turtle) Dad because they assumed it was a habitual accident from the future or he was adopted by them.

Like he doesn't have any obvious turtle features up front but he likes water a little too much to be a normal human but they assume it's because water was scarce back in his future.

Rats would've been part of his diet regardless of the limited food. (No Donnie not sulking about having to temporarily share his Pinky stash)

Maybe he has that weird killer instinct they have (they were genetically engineered to be soldiers) but once again it deduced he got the trait from living in a literal Apocalypse timeline.

(I like to think depending on the turtle dad Casey would have a different trait. If it's Raph, Casey has a weird tongue, if it's Leo, Casey has glowing stripes that is invisible in most lighting (think blacklight), if it's Mikey, Casey has sunset spots (easily mistaken for scars) and if it's Donnie, Casey has softshell spots and ridges of his back.)

When they finally figure it out it's like: "Why didn't you tell us?" "You didn't ask"

Imagine the reveal was because he can do the eye thing. Like when he's really focused, distracted or angry and they notice and are just like what?

"Wait, humans don't have a third eyelid" "They don't?" "Maybe they evolved in the future" "But can't April do that too?" "That's the reflection of her glasses" "Does Cas- "No Casey does not" "Maybe we should just ask"

"Oh? I got it from my Dad" *Still don't who know that is*

#Rottmnt #Crackfic ideas #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #Rise Casey Jones Jr #Not part of the idea but I like the thought that CJr actually really likes water once he gets used to the copious amounts #His love for it was inherited by Leo who'd take him swimming with him when they found clean enough water source that was undrinkable #sometimes Casey Jr goes swimming with Raph Leo and Donnie to bond (Mikey joins as well sometimes but he doesn't like water as much)#It this a crapost?#They all find out Leo's his dad and Don just goes 'I knew it' and Leo does the same in the reverse scenario.

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saltydoesstuff · 11 months

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Is there a chance of getting AI feral Future Leonardo?

To be honest I haven't fully thought about feral peepaw too much, and how he would be-- But as soon as I can get a feel for how he would be in a feral state of course I'll make a bot for him!

#I know for a fact that the cause of him going feral would be because of the apocalypse in some way #Just unsure how and or if he gets to make it to the past is the thing #Maybe he goes feral sometime after Casey is yeeted #Or he went feral before then and Casey had to drag him with in hopes that the past turtles could help him #So many things I can do here.. hmmm #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt #rottmnt au #saltydoesstuff #rottmnt leo #feral au

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cryptvokeeper · 1 year

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Honestly if Leo wanted to make new swords he should’ve made em from whatever the hell Raph’s weapons are made of he puts those things through so much fuckin abuse and they haven’t broken once

#Again. Cartoon logic.#But it’s so wild he picks locks with em he pries open doors he jams em in guns that explode #Swear to god sometimes they bend fully in half and they’re just fine #Next turtle iteration give me Raph who goes through sai like tissue paper cuz he keeps destroying them using them im for things he shouldnt #2003 spoilers

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kathaynesart · 8 days

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The eye of the hurricane. I like to think Cassandra sometimes called the brothers by the nicknames their dad used, given they were probably pretty close before his passing.

BEGINNING || PREVIOUS || NEXT (SOON) MASTER POST

Man oh man, this one was way messier and off model than my last few updates but whatever, we got to keep this ball rolling! Life's been crazy so I've had to take some unwanted breaks in between updates. Thanks everyone for your patience as always!

One thing I wanted in this flashback was to really get a sense of how the brothers worked as an experienced team with Leo at the helm as a proper leader. It's something we never got to see much of in Rise and I felt it was important to include since half the team is already gone by the time of Replica. Team Dynamics Ted Talk under the cut!

We know from Casey Jr that Leo stressed the importance of listening to your team. A big part of that also means knowing how to communicate with them in general.

With Michelangelo, he keeps it short and succinct, trusting his brother to know what he's doing when in his element. This trust goes a long way with Mikey, having spent years of his youth as the baby striving for the respect he felt he deserved. Leo knows it's best to not bog Mikey down with details, allowing him to improvise as needed. This unspoken freedom has only grown over time as Mikey has dipped deeper into spiritual arts that, frankly, go completely over Leo's head.

The greatest sacrifice Leo has ever made was read Donnie's Big Book of Bad Guy Codes. While he doesn't remember ALL the numbers, he has memorized the ones that matter and it has helped tremendously in avoiding miscommunication with his genius brother. More importantly it silenced any of Donnie's usual belly-aching. As Leo's "twin"/"equal" the two still butt heads from time to time. Donnie respects his brother's authority (mostly) but will still push the boundaries of what he's allowed on a semi-regular basis. Give Donnie an inch and he will take the mile and then find a loop hole that allows him to go twenty miles more. This is partially due to him often being the one left behind at HQ, making the turtle just a TAD stir crazy. Leo does his best to keep him in line regardless.

Big brother Raph will forever and always be big brother to Leo. As such he holds a place of authority in Leo's heart and is someone he still regularly seeks counsel from in both the ways of leadership and more. Raph is always happy to support his younger brother and does a surprisingly good job (albeit after years of practice) of walking the line so as not to step on his brother's toes in the process. At least not since the secret of "the Key" blew up in their faces several years ago. They don't talk about that anymore. Leo is the leader now and he's done a great job in recent years as far as Raph is concerned. He trusts him to make the right call. The two have a close bond and regularly use mind meld to quickly communicate rather than speak ...this will be important to remember for the future.

Hope that overall feeling came through for this group!

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ilk-insolence · 4 months

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Raph Is A Great Strategist

Numerous times in the show Raph has shown to have a preference for straightforwardly punching his problems away rather than think up a more complex solution. Like how his immediate fix to getting Mayhem out of the mirror in Mystic Library was to punch everything in the bathroom but the mirror. However, when Raph understands the situation requires more in depth strategy, he’s shown to be an incredibly capable tactician.

(long post ahead!)

In nearly all the plot heavy episodes like Shadow of Evil, Many Unhappy Returns, and the season finales, Raph gets moments where he’s highlighted for his strategic thinking. In Insane in the Mama Train, he’s the one who figures out which eyeball-button goes to the front car with the dark armor, because “‘it was the only button [the Foot Clan] didn’t want me to press!’” [21:05]. He’s also the one who came up with the scheme to defeat all the (known) combatants in the train, with Leo specifically attributing Raph as the deviser during their mind meld [19:46]. In Many Unhappy Returns, after spending a single night waylaying the Shredder, Raph formulated a plan using all the tricks the team learned, seamlessly transitioning the mystic collar Leo acquired into it [19:53], to defeating the Shredder. Additionally, he’s repeatedly called for a retreat during fights, like in Shadow of Evil, Shreddy or Not (Finale pt 2), and the movie, when he can tactically recognize that a battle couldn’t be won. Each time, the show/movie implied that that was the right call, for the family to lose the fight but win the war.

And it’s not just that Raph is good at strategy when he’s pushed to be more serious; the show characterizes him as passionate about creating plans, he enjoys doing it. Literally in the first episode, Mystic Mayhem, after the turtles’ initial plan failed of getting Splinter out of the living room to touch his Do-Not-Touch Cabinet, Raph immediately started devising a new plan that involved “ten chickens [and] a gallon of rubber cement” [9:35]. It was convoluted, sure, and they didn’t end up using it, but it was inventive and the opposite of reluctant. This is also shown in Bug Busters, where Raph planned out dousing Mikey in honey to attract the oozequitoes [2:52]; Snow Day, with the idea to freeze Ghost Bear like in Jupiter Jim Pluto Vacation 4; and Raph’s Ride-Along (and also Bad Hair Day), where Mind Raph created multiple schemes to get the criminals arrested. The show wouldn’t have made Raph be so creative with his plans if they were trying to characterize him as someone who didn’t like strategizing.

So does why Raph do stupid shit sometimes where he doesn’t think things through at all? Well, even though Raph is good at strategy and enjoys doing it, it’s clear his immediate impulse is still “punch the problem in the face”. In fact, all the turtle boys contain the fascinating dichotomy of being incredibly smart in some areas, and the dumbest teenagers alive in others. Just look at Donnie. It’s also how Raph is a loving protective older brother, and the guy who shoved Leo into a wall so hard he disappeared in one frame for shits and giggles (The Mutant Menace x). None of this means that Raph is bad at strategy though.

tldr: Yeah, Raph has a lot of dumb and, frankly, insane moments in the show, but he’s still an incredible tactician who’s plans consistently saved his family and sometimes the world. He's a great strategist.

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flawseer · 1 month

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3000 AS character drawings

(Fathom, Indigo, Pearl, Albatross)

I appear to have developed an addiction to drawing dragons. There is no known treatment, so I have been advised to just ride it out and see where it goes. Here are some ancient Seawings:

Prince Fathom

Fathom is said to look remarkably similar to his descendant Turtle, or at least Darkstalker seems to think so. He could be an unreliable narrator who assumes all green Seawing lads look the same though, who knows.

When I picture Fathom, I imagine him as looking visibly marred by what he experienced. He is careworn and looks tired most of the time because, at night, spiraling thoughts and stress dreams are interfering with his sleep. His general physique is a bit oddly proportioned, with some areas of his body (face and extremities) looking more gaunt than others, indicating that he has rapidly lost weight.

Hoping he was able to return to some form of normalcy and make a recovery after the conclusion of the Darkstalker book.

Indigo

Fathom's childhood friend, bodyguard, and numerous other things. I have no idea what the plans of the graphic novel adaptations are with regards to the Darkstalker book, so I don't know if she will get an actual depiction any time soon.

I gave her a forward-swept, somewhat wild-looking head fin because I thought that was fitting for her character. It contrasts with the more put-together, rounder, or rigid appearances of the royals she is surrounded by.

Princess Pearl

Fathom's uptight sister and future Queen of the Seawings. As far as I know, the books never go into detail with regards to her color scheme. I imagine that, in terms of looks, she takes a lot after her grandfather, resulting in a light blue coloration. Some of these traits would then later be passed down the royal Seawing line until they resurface in her descendant Anemone.

I do sometimes think about what happened after the Darkstalker book. Does she believe her brother is dead? Or is it assumed he evacuated with the rest of the Nightwings? Did Fathom ever try to reconnect with her in later years?

Prince Albatross

Fathom and Pearl's grandfather and person of historical infamy. The graphic novels draw him very blue, but he is described in text as unnaturally pale, almost white. Really minor detail in his luminous patches: I drew them that way to suggest he passed his spherical markings on to Pearl (which she then got her name from) and the crescent markings were inherited by Fathom.

Also, his ear is frayed and worn. I imagine he developed a nervous tick where he squeezes and yanks his ear whenever he is upset due to his sister's constant abuse.

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

Errata:

I initially wrote that Anemone is Pearl's ancestor. This was a nonsensical lapse of thought, as, barring questionable time travel plots, she is obviously her descendant. Corrected.

#wings of fire #wof #dragon #digital art #wof art #flawseer art #wof seawing #wof fathom #wof indigo #wof pearl #wof albatross #wof headcanon

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royalarchivist · 3 months

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Ramon had a cute idea for the Huevitos (members of Fit's community) to fill the #ramonbday tag with art and kind messages so he can show them to Fit for his birthday (February 1st), so here's my contribution! I have over 800 Fit-related clips, so it was hard to choose just a few fun moments from stream :'D

Even though the QSMP server won't be open until February 3rd, we still have a few more days to share messages, art, etc. – so if you'd like to post something for Ramon to potentially include in Fit's birthday surprise, make sure to post it by January 31st and use the tag #ramonbday!

[ Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]

–

Fit: I can't believe I'm a homosexual now.

–

FitMC 2023 - 2024 Highlights

–

Vegetta: Leonarda, give me the picture.

Fit: Leonarda, you should give him a picture.

Vegetta: It's for saving your life!

Fit: [Picks up the photo she dropped] Oh, now I have it. [Sees its a photo of Vegetta and Melissa in their stripper outfits] Oh. Oh my.

–

Fit: It's a life experience Tubbo, you know? Aren't you glad you–

Tubbo: "Life experience" deez nuts, you bald bastard.

–

Fit: Ok, I'm looking through the bars– There's like, yeah–

Pac: [Falls off the wall] AAAAA–

–

Fit: [Dumping his wild cats in the Bakery] I'll just– I'll just release them in here. Screw it. What's the worst that could happen?

[The next day]

The big cats are still, uh– [Sees the cats mauling the Baker] Oh my god. They do NOT like the Baker

–

Jaiden: Fit, you're just a guy, right?

Fit: I'm just a dude. I'm just like– I'm just like the generic RPG protagonist. Like, human male, warrior. Like, it's– I'm as vanilla as you can get

Fit: Sneeg– shut up, I'm doing gay roleplay right now!

–

Fit: Tubbo, if you want to disable mines, you are disrespecting the entire Hispanic community.

–

Fit: What are you doin' staring at me, Baldy? Yeah, you think you're hot sht?

[The Binary Monster shows up]

Fit: OH, FCK–

–

Fit: The oldest anarchy server in Minecraft.

Fit: The youngest gay roleplay server in Minecraft.

–

Fit: [While playing "Hide and Seek" with Ramon] If he moves, then I know that was the spot.

Ramon: [Stares at him as the Metal Gear Solid "discovered by an enemy" vwing! sound plays]

Fit: [Cackles] WHERE YOU GOIN' BOY? WHERE YOU GOIN' BOY?

–

Fit: To be a turtle in the Arctic, you hate to see it. Yeah, you know this turtle is... not so different from me. It's living in a place that's trying to KILL it.

–

Tubbo: [To Pac] Just lay down. [Starts Casualonas-ing] This is for you.

Fit: [Immediately equips his weapon]

Tubbo: This is for you, king.

Pac: [Laughs] Fit - you see this?

Fit: [Shoots Tubbo, who starts screaming] I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Uh-

Tubbo: Ok, ok, well he–

Fit: Misfire, misfire, misfire!

Tubbo: He wasn't- he wasn't- OW OW OW!

Fit: Misfire!

–

Fit: Sometimes- it's not about doing the right thing, Phil – it's about doing the more entertaining thing. Right?

Phil: PFTTTTT–

Fit: They banned my ass. They're like, "Why are you talking to Pac like that?" That's unacceptable on this family-friendly Christian Minecraft server (TM). Like– "We can't be having any of that." "Can't be having any of THAT."

–

Cucurucho: [Slowly turns to stare at Fit while Pac is talking to him]

Fit: [Silently starts cracking up]

Pac: Ok Cucurucho, I'm gonna be waiting for your response

–

[Fit putting up art that Ramon drew]

Foolish: Boo it if it's bad!

Fit: Heyyyyyy! That's actually –

Foolish: Oh! Wait, that's– That's actually pretty good, what the fck.

Fit: Ramon, you weren't supposed to actually try. This is incredible!

[They both laugh]

–

Pac: Yeah, yeah! I was–

Tubbo: Everyone goes through their dick phase.

Fit: Yeah...

Pac: Yeah, everyone does.

Fit: Oh? Oh– is that so, Tubbo? Yeah?

Tubbo: Everyone- everyone–

Fit: When did you go through your dick phase? [Laughs]

Tubbo: I'd argue I'm in my dick phase right now.

Fit: Uh, you know, speakin' of spruce– you know Bruce Lee, right?

Phil: Yeah?

Fit: If Bruce Lee was a plant, he'd be Spruce Tree.

Phil: [Disappointed grumbling]

Fit: [Laughs]

[Fit gets kicked off the server]

Fit: [Laughs even harder]

#FitMC #Morning Crew #QSMP #ramonbday #Fit #Ramon #Edited #Subtitles #AT LAST #It always takes forever to write the transcript of these subtitles #hopefully I didn't miss too much #anyways. I do have so many frickin clips it was hard to narrow it down #I love the wii music it really is the perfect background music for these kinds of videos #Portfolio

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braimin · 1 month

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I don't think that zosan would ever really be the type to be easily jealous. Like sure Sanji can get 'jealous' over Zoro's swords but that's like the only time Sanji is ever worried about the attention his marimo is giving to something else. And Zoro knows how the love cook can be and that the way he treats women is just how he's always going to be. They're both very secure in their relationship and have never had a time where they felt like they had to protect it from another person.

However, I do think that Sanji tries to get Zoro to be jealous sometimes. It's just nice to be desired and what better way for Zoro to show that than public displays of jealousy? It never works though, as previously mentioned, Zoro knows Sanji. He trusts him and knows whatever attraction he shows to someone is usually all for show.

There is only one time where Zoro has ever gotten close to real possessiveness and it was like, the one time Sanji wasn't trying. He and Usopp made a stupid bet on some island and the loser was supposed to wear a dress to some little party the straw hats were invited to. When Sanji loses, he figures he might as well go all out and really dress up for it. It's been a long time since he's had to wear a dress and he does find it fun if he's in the right mood. So he has Nami and Robin help him pick something out and do his make up. When they show up everyone is kind of in shock because wow Sanji looks really good.

No one is used to him looking like that and it's not like Sanji really told them how he spent those two years apart from them. But the night goes well, he basks in all the compliments he gets and dances around and shows off. He doesn't really pay attention to what Zoro is doing until they get a few hours into the night and suddenly he's looming over Sanji where ever he goes. He keeps a hand on Sanji at all times, either on his back or his hand and he pulls Sanji in to sit with him constantly. At first he thinks that maybe Zoro is just tipsy and in the mood to cuddle, but then he starts to notice the way he'll interrupt someone if they've been talking to Sanji for too long, or he'll drag Sanji back to the crew and try to get him to stay at their table.

It makes Sanji want to see how long he can drag it out, see if Zoro can get jealous over the amount of eyes on him. Zoro puts up with it like a champ. Because at the end of the night, he knows who Sanji is going home with. But when the night does end and they get in bed Zoro is very clingy. Sanji wakes up late the next morning and everyone politely ignores the fact that he's wearing a turtle neck despite the heat.

#zosan #one piece #sanji #zoro #i think when sanji's plans to make zoro jealous fail he's a total drama queen about it #he goes into what i like to call *damsel mode*#he whines around for a while and zoro is just like 'you love me too much to cheat'#seeing him in a dress triggers something in zoro's monkey brain tho #it's less of like a jealous type of possession and more so a pride in how gorgeous his partner is #he wants to make sure he's right next to sanji at all times so he can be like 'yeah look at this pretty boy he's allll mine'

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fooled-around-and-fell · 5 months

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Marks

Summary: Tangerine is reminded of the times you got hurt because of him, and the guilt is eating him alive.

Genre: angst, fluff

warnings: scars, very little smut, p in v (wrap it before ya tap it)

a/n: welcome to the list, Tangerine 🧡

Masterlist

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Tan is finally home after a week of being gone. He's finally here, and not just the lingering smell of when he last slept next to you. He's here, holding you close to him as your skin touches his.

There's no urgency, no rush. He's telling you that he's home, and he's staying for a long, long time. He peppers kisses on your neck, nipping and almost leaving a hickey, but stops cause he knows you have to work tomorrow.

Surprisingly, you pull him closer, urging him to keep going.

"Babe?"

"I'll wear a turtle neck."

Chuckling, he happily obliges and begins sucking on your flesh, his thrusts getting rougher at the same time. "So sweet."

"Tan," you moan out his name, legs locking behind him when he hits that spot. His thrusts get more erratic, and when he feels you coming around him, he spills inside you. He moans when you're still squeezing him.

"I've missed you." You chuckle.

"Sweetheart, you've no idea." He kisses you before pulling out and getting a towel to clean you up.

He sees you lying down on your stomach, slowly falling asleep, and he smiles, feeling like the luckiest man in the world. But then he sees the scars you have, ones that you got because of him.

The scar on your hip from when someone sliced you with a knife because you tried to get away from their grip, the one from an explosion, and that other one from when someone broke into your home to get revenge on Tan.

Suddenly he feels more disgusted with himself rather than lucky. No, he's still lucky, lucky because, despite everything that happened, you're still with him. Why is that? What did he do to deserve this?

If anything, you deserve so much more. At the least someone whose job isn't going to endanger you. The fact that you keep getting hurt because of him... Tan's mouth goes dry, and he doesn't know what to do.

"Tan? What's wrong?"

He hears your soft, sleepy voice. How can someone so kind, so perfect, be so nice to him? How can someone like you like- no, love him?

But he's not about to pour out his worries onto you. Not when he knows you're just going to assure him it's not his fault and that you still love him. He doesn't deserve that. You don't deserve that.

Without saying a word, he climbs into bed, spooning you. He's holding you extra tight, swearing to God that he's going to try his best to not let anyone hurt you ever again. Not even himself.

"I love you." He whispers.

Your eyelids feel heavy, and you mutter an "I love you too" before falling asleep.

-----

You wake up in the middle of the night feeling cold, and when you turn around to find Tan, you see him sitting on the bed instead, head in his hands.

"Tan?" You called out to him, caressing his back. "Everything okay?"

You know this happens -- it has happened before. Tan sometimes gets nightmares, and he'll just sit in silence for a while before returning to bed. He never wants to wake you.

"Y-yeah." He's taken aback. "Sorry, love, did I wake you?"

"No, not at all." You answer, searching for his eyes. "I was just cold."

"Did you have another nightmare?"

He doesn't answer but still accepts your invitation to go back to bed, burying his head in the crook of your neck and letting you cradle his figure.

He hugs your waist, and his grip tightens when he feels the scar on your hip. That's when you know what he's thinking about.

You kiss his forehead, "it's not your fault, Tan."

His jaw clenches and he buries his head deeper into your neck, if that's even possible. Tan doesn't answer, and you figure he must not want to talk about it.

Mindlessly, you start playing with his dark curls and suddenly you feel something wet against your skin. You realize Tan is crying.

"Hey." You pull away a little, wanting to look at him but he avoids your gaze, looking down like a kid in trouble. It's a little cute, you're not gonna lie. "Baby, look at me, please?"

Tan's scared. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know what to do. If he tells you he's sorry, does that seem like he's just saying it? If he says he won't let anyone hurt you ever again -- isn't that what he said last time? He doesn't want to give you empty promises but also doesn't want to let you go.

"Let me in that head of yours." You lift his head by his chin. "We're a team, remember? We figure things out together."

He really is the luckiest man in the world.

"I..." He starts. "I'm sorry, I can't promise people won't try to hurt you. All I can promise you is my best. I'll do my best to make you happy, keep you safe, and make sure you won't regret choosing me. And I can't thank you enough for that -- for choosing me. I don't know what I did to ever deserve you, but I will cherish and love you until the day I die. No, even after that. I'll love you in the afterlife."

"Your best and your love is more than enough." You kiss him deeply. "I love you, Tan. And though I know you won't listen to me when I tell you this, I'll tell you anyway; you did everything to deserve me, just as I deserve you."

Tan finally smiles a little. "I'm not perfect."

"And I never asked you to be. I don't need you to be perfect, and I don't want you to be. I'm not perfect either, but you know what? You love me anyway."

"And you love me anyway."

"Exactly," you smile. "These scars, I don't remember them as scars that hurt, I remember them as marks that show how much you mean to me, and how you've saved me every single time."

Tan pulls you to his chest, hugging you so tight you almost can't breathe. "I love you."

"I love you too, Tan."

#tangerine #bullet train tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x you #tangerine x reader #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x oc #tangerine x female reader #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine bullet train x reader #tangerine fluff #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #tangerine fic #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine imagine #aaron taylor johnson characters

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mighty-ant · 3 months

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i've been rewatching tmnt 2012 and tmnt 2003, and there's one extremely specific difference between the two that really exemplifies to me why 2003 is the better show: how both series treat unhoused people

the Professor is a character we meet very early on in 2K3 - the turtles met him sometime before the series start and he's close friends with all of them, gifting them computer parts or comics or anything else he thinks they'd enjoy, while the turtles bring the Professor and his community blankets and help protect them from bad guys who would take advantage of unhoused people

the turtles respect the hell out of him, and he's invited to their christmas parties as well as april and casey's wedding years down the line

the societal mistreatment of unhoused people is the focus of the Professor's first episode, and at no point is he ever depicted in a meanspirited or stereotypical way or are there are any jokes told at his expense. he's a well-written, fleshed out character that the show and writers actually respect as a character, and that goes for most of the reoccurring non-white characters in the series like Angel, Karai, and Silver Sentry

and then you have tmnt 2012

"Homeless Guy" makes his debut in the very first episode of the series, on a dirty mattress in a filthy alley, farting in his sleep. he's part of the joke that new york city is absolutely disgusting but the turtles are in awe of it all anyway

as a character, "Homeless Guy" never goes beyond this cheap, insulting depiction, and pops up a few more times in the series as the butt of the joke or to have something absolutely vile happen to him (FOR REAL THO, this series had a major gross-out obsession, it was hard to watch sometimes)

to me, the depiction and treatment of "Homeless Guy" exemplifies the generally meanspirited nature of the show, and the lack of empathy in its characters

calling every new mutant or alien they meet an ugly freak feels iffy at best and just wrong at worst when your main characters are inherent outcasts from society - basically, instead of building bridges with their fellow outcasts, tmnt 2012 would rather blow up the bridge and cook pizza over the ashes

#ive kept silent too long #ive got tmnt brainworms right now don't look at me #and don't come after me either lmao #im a tmnt historian at this point #but also don't be mean if tmnt 2012 is your fave #it's just not my fave #ant talks #ant posts #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3

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somerandomdudelmao · 11 months

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After Casey's nightmares, does he sometimes run to one of the guys' rooms and subconsciously hug them for comfort? Or does he stop himself and keep all those feelings bottled up?

I can imagine that he's tried, but he's had to be reminded that they're not them. They're not on that level yet. And even though they do sympathize with Casey's past, they still haven't clued in the amount of pain that he's going through. That he has gone through. They just don't understand. Casey loves them all like family, but he loved the broken versions of them. The ones that grew up to fast and had to cope with the loss of everyone they loved, and more. He loved Commander O'Neal, Uncle Raph and Donnie, and Sensei. They were all he had. And now, well, they're coming back. But he doesn't know any of that.

Cass, I hope some of that convenient plot-twist magic is coming soon 🫵

Yes. Yes exactly. He doesn't. When he has a nightmare, he takes out his mask and listens to old tapes or goes on a little walk (patrol) to look around for dangers.

He doesn't want the younger versions of the turtles to worry about the future, which they've already averted anyway. They are so happy and untouched by the war he doesn't want to change that. And he knows they don't understand. They have no context they have no experience, all they have is Casey's stories, and Casey tries to tell them only safe things.

Also, there's a difference between coming to a father figure for comfort or some other boy who calls you "dude." It's just not the same.

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fishsticksloser · 1 year

Note

This isn't an nsfw ask- but I wanted to ask for the rottmnt boys in mating season and how they act towards their s/o

Mating Season

Rottmnt x gn!reader

Warnings: feral turtles, aged up

A/N: there is nothing explicit in this, just turtles being turtles

Donnie

He made precautions once they all started dating

It wasn't an issue before because April is their sister

You can tell it's starting because he gets more affectionate

Normally kissing your neck more

He talks about the way you smell

During mating season, Donnie is locked in his room

He can't get out, he made sure of it

He is feral

Donnie doesn't speak hardly at all, instead communicating with chirps and hisses (mostly hissing)

If he does speak, it's normally begging

He doesn't like being away from his lab, but he can't do anything when he's in this state anyways

Larger, bulkier blankets and such have to be removed because he'll tear them up

He makes a nest on his bed with his clothes and thinner fabric

Due to him being feral, Shelldon is the one who gives him food and water

You sometimes give Donnie food, but it can be dangerous so you leave it to Shelldon (he bites)

Paper plates and such have to be used otherwise you won't be getting them back as he adds them to his nest

After mating season, he dismantles his nest immediately

He hates having a dirty room

Leo

Also absolutely feral

But! Donnie is a little scarier when feral...

Leo tried not to show when it's coming on, opting to remove you from the situation completly

Although that hardly ever works

He locks himself in his room as well

Unlike Donnie, he actually does talk

He's a sweet talker, tries to convince you to let him out... That it's over

He's done so successfully a few times

Leo is very persuasive

He's not as dangerous to approach

He'll bite sometimes, but that's just on bad days

If you give him food and water, he'll stay as far away from you as he can

Leo will wait there until you back up from the door

It's almost like Leo takes the logical part of Donnie's brain during this time

He also makes a nest

He doesn't tear things up like his twin so he has a bigger, comfier, bulkier nest

After mating season, he'll leave the nest for at least a week just to make sure it's over

Mikey

Mikey doesn't lock himself up

He knows himself and will let you know when bad days are coming

He rarely goes feral during mating season

When he does, you're not coming over

Period

He still talks and everything, but he needs physical contact otherwise he'd lose his mind

His nest is pretty basic, it's not too big, but it's comfy

He likes having you stay over so his nest is warm and inviting

He feeds himself so you don't have to worry about anything

Raph

Raph does go a little feral at least he thought so

But he saw Leo and Donnie and realized he was just paranoid

He doesn't lock himself up, but he tells you not to come over at all during this time

He's worried he might hurt you

Raph acts pretty normal for the most part

He does make a nest, it has to be in the living room because his room isn't big enough

He can go feral like Mikey, but he tends to be pretty mellow

Raph has a tendency to tear things up, but not as bad as Donnie

During this time, the couch is moved out of the living room so Raph has more room and doesn't feel the need to tear up the cushions

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lovebugism · 1 year

Text

☄. *. ⋆ ┄ We Fight to Make Up

summary: after a run-in with your ex, steve's anger gets the best of him. sometimes you think he picks a fight just for the make up sex. pairing: steve harrington / f!reader word count: 7.6k warnings: smut, steve calls himself daddy once, briefly mentioned breeding kink, a touch of angst, insecure!steve, also steve with scruff because that needs a warning too, 18+ mdni a/n: ok i'm not the happiest with this but it's been sitting in my drafts for so long and she needs to see the world now so.. enjoy? <3

You don’t go out anymore. None of the party does, really.

Fighting through the end of the world and somehow surviving for three years straight made bars and clubs and getting drunk seem a little less important. It gets too easy to stay within the inner circle that’s seen the same sort of hell you’ve seen.

Eventually, time goes on and you don’t realize that you’ve only been around the same ten people until the thought of going to the grocery store alone sounds scary.

Fighting monsters, weathering alternate dimensions, beating up Russians soldiers — that’s cake. It’s the getting back to normal that’s so hard.

That's a bitter pill to swallow. None of you got to have too much of a childhood before the knowledge of a sentient darkness swirling beneath your feet turned everything upside down (no pun intended). A life with a regular routine unbound by the impending doom of an armageddon is hard to go back to, when fighting to stay alive is all you’ve ever done.

You try really hard, though. All of you do.

The kids try to find a nostalgic amusement in the arcade they used to frequent while grappling with the fact that they’ll never been those kids again. The older group of you dabbles in the simple pleasure of growing up and discovering what adulthood really means — getting drunk and going dancing just because you can, but facing the inevitable consequences of those actions all on your own.

The six of you find a certain solace at the Limelight. For Steve and Jonathan, they serve good beer — obviously cheap and unusually tangy on the tongue, but nice and cold nonetheless. For Eddie and Robin, there’s a karaoke machine and a stage across the bar, complete with every rock ballad imaginable. You and Nancy take special interest in the dance floor — a platform with light-up rainbow squares for all your drunken twirling needs.

It’s a nice place. More than that, it’s a familiar one. Eventually, going there every friday night is like comfort food in the belly, pleasant and warm. Steve feels safe there when he’s with all of you and tonight he’s especially fuzzy with a quiet sort of happiness that’s got his cheeks all pink.

Maybe the beer is partly to blame.

Or maybe it’s because you’ve got your hand tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, anchoring yourself to him and simultaneously fending off any unwanted attention from the scantily clad women around you who can't seem to take their eyes away from your Steve.

But he only watches you as you smile into your glass while Eddie Munson, all sweaty after his Madison Square Garden worthy rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart, tells some stupidly unfunny joke. You’re pressed contently into his side, like you would melt into him if you could, and he’s buzzing with the comfort of your warmth and the chemically induced mellow from the drink in his cup.

It was a good night. An easy one. A fun one.

And then it just… wasn’t.

When your ex waltzes into the bar, he brings the cold air in with him and an unusual sophisticated energy that’s typically foreign to this side of town. He’s got on a gray corduroy blazer and slacks to match. The black turtle neck he wears beneath it clings to his lean torso and broad chest, like he wants people to marvel at how muscular he is.

You don’t even realize it’s him at first. You turn to Nancy to talk shit about the douchebag at your eight o’clock that just walked in while the guy settles at the far end of the bar, around the corner that faces the group of you. He removes the dark Ray-Bans from the straight bridge of his nose and uses them to push back his cinnamon-colored curls.

Steve feels you tense at his side then. You duck inside yourself and force him and Robin to form a makeshift shield around you.

It’s a tad too dramatic for two people who ended on pretty decent terms. It was about as amicable as a breakup can be — you were both seventeen and thankfully already mature enough to know that the relationship wasn’t bound to make it outside of high school. So you split up in search of more fulfilling things.

You found yours, in Steve and in the rest of the party. And by the looks of it — the obviously expensive suit and the silver Rolex glittering under the dim yellow bar light — he found his.

You aren’t exactly sure how, but he sees you.

Probably because Robin couldn’t stop ogling at him from over her shoulder, obviously not getting the hint to act casual and inevitably dragging his attention over to the group of you.

He’s confused by the attention at first and then beaming when he notices you. The man flashes a set of pearly whites beneath a plump pink grin, all but shoving through the crowded bar to come and meet you.

Steve is able to get a better look at him when he’s no more than a couple inches away. The guy wrenches you away from him to wrap you in a friendly embrace, smiling like a ray of a thousands suns while he laughs with a hearty mirth.

A childlike and terribly jealous scowl settles upon Steve's features as his stomach wrenches something fierce. This stranger is touching you, and he hates that he’s touching you, but it’s more than that.

Steve’s almost certain this is what he would look like if he hadn’t been through the end of the world. The ornate suit and sunglasses worth more than most people’s salaries could’ve been his. In another life, he could’ve been this pretty and perfect and pure.

But, instead, here he is — dressed in an aged Hawkins Tigers sweatshirt and hand-me-down jeans that are frayed at the hems. There are bits of dried blood on the knee that he can’t get out. He isn’t quite sure if it’s his or if it belongs to one of the three varying monsters he’s been face-to-face with over the years.

His hair is pushed back and visibly un-styled, fluffier than usual because it hasn’t been washed in a while. And only now does he notice the prickly layer of scruff itching at his jaw and above his lip because the effort to shave is just too much sometimes.

He wishes he had, though. Now, he wants to completely perfect his appearance and change his life entirely — all at the sight of some stranger he didn't know existed before now.

The man introduces himself to the rest of the group when he parts from you — Todd.

Because of coursehis name is Todd.

No one says that out loud, of course, but you do share pairs of knowing looks. Eddie’s the only one brave enough, or rather drunk enough, to take the piss out of the guy.

“Aren’t you a little overdressed for Limelight?” he asks before laughing into his beer.

The rhetorical question leads to the man, Todd, to start complaining about work — how he’s making more than he knows what to do with, that the lifestyle isn’t as lavish as everyone made it out to be, that work is his best friend most days because he doesn’t have time for real relationships anymore.

And it doesn’t sound braggy. This isn't some rich guy complaining about all the money he has. He’s genuine, and that’s somehow even worse.

Steve can tell he’s working for some big four accounting firm without him having to say it. He can practically smell it all over the guy. Todd’s just got that air about him, that he’s got an office on the fiftieth story with large glass windows that span from the floor to the ceiling. He’s making well into the six-figures if that’s the case. Just like his goddamn dad.

Just like he would be if the endless cycling of fighting hadn’t stripped him flesh from bone.

Steve forces himself to shove that thought to the back of his mind.

“You know I’ve actually been thinking about, you know, just dropping everything. Putting in my two weeks and fucking off to France,” Todd admits. His eyes sparkle like a pair of fucking diamonds when they lock in on you. “Like we always used to talk about.”

That was your dream. The kind of reverie that wasn’t at all practical or the least bit tangible, but the kind you fantasized about nonetheless.

And here this asshole goes, living it for the both of you.

You’re grinning at him anyway, patting him on the shoulder while you congratulate him. You tell him he should do it. That he deserves it.

Steve, meanwhile, is so angry he can feel the prickle of the red-hot rage on his skin, like so many little needles. It’s a simmering heat for now, all slow and lazy. The longer he holds it in, the more likely he is to pop into a full boil. He knows that. But he keeps the fire in his chest and wallows in that high-pitched ache.

Todd leaves not too long after. Makes it a point not to overstay his welcome. He’s polite when he goes, making sure to talk to all your friends even though he didn’t exactly come for them — he compliments Eddie’s leather jacket and Robin’s taste in style, Jonathan and Nancy are both blushing pink when he praises their work with the local paper. He says something to Steve he can’t quite register because he’s too busy fuming.

The brunette girl beside him is practically swooning, and he has to remind her — “Robin, you’re gay.”

The man was kind, terribly so, the sort of politeness you can’t help but notice and marvel at, like a pretty pebble you’ve found on the ground. He didn’t overstep any boundaries with you either, like he respected that you two were practically strangers now — fucking asshole — and whether or not he knew you were with Steve, he kept a chivalrous distance anyway.

He must’ve known, though, he did have eyes after all. There’s no way he missed the way Steve had been looming over you the whole time. Or the possessive arm he had around your shoulder. Or the stern chocolate gaze that had ping-ponged between you and him the entire conversation.

When he leaves, there’s nothing to talk shit about or make fun of him for. Not only is that really fucking annoying, but it’s boring, and it leaves you and Steve as the punching bags for all their stupid jokes.

“You certainly have a type, don’t ya, doll?” Eddie teases you as he reaches behind Nancy to shove at your shoulder. “Steve’s practically a carbon copy of that douchebag.”

“Holy shit, I can see it now,” Robin marvels breathlessly. Her deep ocean gaze is still locked on Todd across the bar. He’s minding his own business now, ordering another drink, while the rest of you can’t seem to stop talking about him. She turns back to Steve, her eyes flitting over his features like it’s the first time she’s seeing them while she puts the pieces of a puzzle together.

“But, Steve’s like the dollar store version of him, though, right?” she wonders rhetorically and then feels the need to explain herself when Steve furrows his brows at her. “—Because, you know… he’s a lot richer than you are…”

The boy rolls his and brings the beer back to his lips. The clarification makes it sting more.

“Thanks, Rob.”

Steve isn’t quite sure what’s got him seething. He’s the personification of a forest fire now — scorching, raging, and deadly — without a reason to be. It’s entirely likely you’ll never see Todd ever again. He lives in the city these days and he just told you that he was planning on moving to fucking France.

But these facts don’t mean as much to him when he knows that the guy isn’t totally over you.

Steve knows Todd would be more than happy to take you out for coffee tomorrow morning to tie up any left-behind loose ends. He’s a rich guy going through a quarter-life crisis (Steve knows a little about what that’s like, too), he’d be more than happy to sweep an old ex-girlfriend off her feet and take her all the way to France with him. She’d need only to ask him to.

Maybe that’s what angers him. There’s a man, all rich and pretty and unscathed by war, that might love you like he does.

The wildfire in his chest grows. It’s a wonder it hasn't seared a hole in the fabric of his sweatshirt. And it burns. It leaves aching blisters on his skin like it’s the real damn thing. It’s like punches to the face, worse than every time he’s ever been beaten up combined.

He manages to keep the ashes of himself together. It's the least he can do for the rest of you, who obviously aren’t as bothered by Todd’s lingering presence and have since moved on to things more meaningful.

It wouldn’t be fair to project his ache onto you.

You guys don’t get too many nights like this, with work and school and lingering bouts of PTSD — who’s he to ruin this night for everyone else when he’s the problem?

But if any of you notice his simmering anger, you don’t show it.

He isn’t sure if that makes him feel better or not.

Nancy and Jonathan stay no longer than fifteen minutes after the fact. “We’ve got an early day tomorrow,” the say with a shrug, though everyone knows what that’s code for. Robin makes kissing noises at them as they make their exit.

Now, the brunette girl stands in front of the stage that Eddie parades on. He belts “If you only hold me tight, we’ll be holding on forever!” into the microphone for the hundredth time. She cheers for the boy like it’s the first time she’s ever heard the stupid song.

The bartender hands you two drinks, a couple of Sex on the Beach’s for you and Robin to try.

She hadn’t stopped talking about it since she spotted it on the menu even though she hates peach schnapps. You tell Steve you’re going to run it to her and that you bet she won’t make it through one sip without gagging. You also promise that you’ll try and pull Eddie away from the stage when the Bonnie Tyler song fades and then inevitably loops again.

He only nods and mumbles a vague affirmative under his breath. He doesn’t even look at you. Just stares down at his empty glass of beer and draws patterns on the cloudy cup with his finger.

It’s hard not to notice his uncharacteristically long silence.

He hasn’t been King Steve for quite some time, but that version of him always manages to peek out after a couple of drinks. He gets loud and brash and smiley and stupid. It makes the quiet demeanor he possesses now that much more daunting. Like a flag he’s waving to make sure everyone else knows that he’s upset about something or other.

Eventually, it makes you burst.

“Is something wrong?” you blurt.

He finally glances at you then. And has the gall to look confused. “What?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. You shift your weight on your feet and try to ignore the distant stinging of the ice glasses in your hand, how the cold of them shoots pins and needles into your palms. “You’re just… being really quiet.”

“I’m fine,” he dismisses with a shrug of his own. A hint of a smile flashes at the very corner of his mouth before he brings his drink to his lips. He swallows down the rest of it in one quick gulp. You watch anxiously as he waves to the bartender for another.

“We can go home if you want—”

“Jesus, I’m fine,” he interjects. The laugh that spills from his throat borders on annoyance. “Just go get the freak before he drives me crazy.”

With that, the two of you part ways. You, with the knowledge that something’s wrong with your boyfriend but having no way to make it better because he won’t tell you anything. And Steve, with another irrational reason to be angry at the world because how do you not get it?

If his ex-girlfriend showed up to a bar, looking like an airbrushed model with more money than all of you combined who’s got brains and wit and humility, he’d want you to get a little fucking jealous too.

It’s stupid. He knows it’s stupid. But he chooses to wallow in his anger than reflect on it, anyway. He takes pity on himself and makes everyone else out to be the enemy. Like he does best.

Even hours later, when he’s sobering up with room temperature water and a bowl of pretzels — and you’re calling a cab for a significantly drunker Eddie and Robin — he still feels the sting.

He makes sure you know it too.

The drive back home is uncomfortably quiet, which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if he at least had the radio on. But when he stuck the key into the ignition and music started blaring from the speakers (because he forget to turn it down beforehand), he turns it off completely. You feel to awkward to touch it.

“Do you, uh… Do you wanna talk about it now?” you ask him.

You’re unfamiliarly timid with him as you peer at him through your lashes. It’s like you’re looking at the sun, the way you have to glance at him from the corner of your eye so he won’t blind you. And it isn’t because of his usually sunny disposition because, somewhere along the course of the night, his shine got snuffed out. It’s because he’s practically lit himself on fire with his anger where he sits next to you.

And he still has the nerve to shake his head. “Talk about what? I told you, there’s nothing wrong,” he dismisses with one hand in a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and the other resting its elbow against the driver’s side door while his fingers pick anxiously at his lower lip. Nothing wrong, my ass.

“Are we seriously gonna play that game tonight?”

“What game?” he scoffs out a laugh.

“The game here you’re upset about something, but refuse to tell me why, so I have to guess what’s wrong with you until I get it right and you let me make it better.”

Steve glances at you and then back to the road. “I… I don’t do that.”

Oh, fuck, he totally does, he thinks to himself. Fuck, he hates that you know him so well.

“You’re literally doing it right now.”

“Well, I can’t be. Because I’m not upset about anything,” he argues with a shrug. “That’s, like, a mathematical impossibility. Or whatever.”

“Considering this is the most you’ve said to me all night, I know that isn’t true— And it’s not even a conversation! You’re just being passive aggressive!”

“Passive aggressive, huh?” he repeats sardonically.

“Yes!” you seethe. “You’re mad at me and I can tell that you’re mad, so just tell me why—”

“I’m not mad at you,” Steve grumbles. He feels even more like shit for making you think he was acting all pissy because of something you had done. You hadn’t done anything. You were perfect. You’re always perfect. And here he goes, making you think otherwise.

He slows to a stop at the last red-light before home. The neon scarlet matches that anger sweltering in his belly. He still refuses to look at you.

“Then what happened between when we got to Limelight and right now that’s got you so fucked up?” you ask him with a furrowed brow and inquisitive eyes.

The boy only huffs. His chest deflates with a heavy breath. He almost forgets to answer you because he’s too busy praying for the light to turn green so he can get the fuck home.

He just needs a little food in his system, he concludes, and a nice hot shower and a bed to rest his tired bones. Maybe then he’ll be able to function like he’s meant to.

He feels a sense of relief for the first time in hours when the light bathes the two of you in a neon emerald glow.

You let out a sharp exhale through your nose at his silence. You shake your head at him like an annoyed parent and cross your arms over your chest. Your knees turn away from him and towards the door in time with your gaze that flits to the window. Now you’re the one that’s pissed.

Steve mumbles lowly when he finally answers you. It’s nearly inaudible.

“Your douchebag ex.”

“What?” you reply, sparing a glance over at him. It isn’t a question of whether you heard him or not, but of why that’s what he’s being so mean to you about.

“Your douchebag ex,” he repeats louder and picks chapped skin from his bottom lip. He rubs his tongue over the irritated skin to soothe the burn. “That’s what I’m upset about.”

Your brows furrow as you rack your head for the conversation you had with Todd that you’d already forgotten about. He’d said hello, and that you looked nice, and then asked you what you’d been up to before making conversation with your friends. He’d wished you luck and walked back to his seat not too long after. You wonder if there was some code in his words that you’d missed.

“…I don’t get it. What did he do?”

“Really?” Steve wonders with an emotionless laugh. “You don’t have a single clue why that might’ve pissed me off?”

He barely slows at the sign of the four-way stop. The block is practically a ghost town now. No one’s out so late into the night. Any other time you might’ve said something about it, but you’re just as eager to get home as the simmering boy next to you.

“No! He stopped by to talk for, like, five minutes! Are you really upset because another man talked to me?” you shout and it burns him because, yeah, that is kind of what he’s mad about — but it’s more than that and you don’t seem to get it. It’s not your job to either. He’ll just burn for the both of you.

The car jerks to a stop when he parks in the driveway.

“Yeah, you’re right—” Steve mutters to himself as he snatches the keys from the ignition. “You don’t get it.”

You feel the impact of the slammed of the car door as he exits. The headlights illuminate the boy as he uses his key ring to unlock the front entrance of your shared home. The dim orange overhead light slowly dims above you and then shuts off completely, bathing you in darkness.

With a sigh and a fleeting thought of oh, it’s gonna be that kinda night, huh? you follow less unenthusiastically behind him.

“Then just explain it to me,” you plead, your voice coated with exhaustion. The warmth of the living room seeps into your bones and makes you that much more tired. “I really, really don’t wanna do this tonight.”

“That asshole was all over you,” Steve finally chooses to air his grievances while he toes off his sneakers.

“He hugged me once! What was I supposed to do? Push him off?”

“That’d be a start.”

“I would’ve done it!” you promise.

He plops onto the couch with a rather dramatic huff as you struggle to take off your boots, what with the zipper getting caught in the slider and being distracted by the storm cloud across the room.

“I don’t care about him! I literally haven’t seen him since I was eighteen! I basically forgot he existed in the first place.”

Steve doesn’t let himself take any solace in your words.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs with the shake of his head. He rests his elbows on his knees, runs his palms over his face once before dragging his fingers through his mussed hair. “Sometimes… I don’t know, I guess, sometimes it feels like maybe you deserve someone better than me.”

His confession feels like a stab in your heart.

You can only imagine how many daggers are piercing him now.

“Steve…”

“No. Don’t give me that bullshit spiel, alright?” he spurns with a shake of his stubborn head. When he laughs, it lacks any and all emotion; it’s gut-wrenchingly bitter and coated with venom. “We both know he could take way better care of you than I ever could. He’s practically a fucking millionaire, babe! And he’s, what, twenty-five? He has the money to drop everything and fly across the world— to France.”

“Steve—” you try again, to stop the spiral before it starts.

He doesn’t let you.

“I mean, fuck, I know how bad you wanna go there. You’ve been talking about it since we were eight,” he laments with wide, glassy eyes and an hand splayed out towards you. He brings it, then, to his chest and clutches at his heart, “But I can’t take you. Because I’m so broke, it fucking hurts. You deserve someone to do that shit for you, alright? And it’s not me. It’s never gonna be me.”

“…You really think he can take better care of me than you do?” you ask him so quietly that it sounds like a whimper. Your face is twisted in anguish, like his sadness pains you too.

“Well, yeah,” he chuckles like the answer’s obvious. He sniffles. “Considering we’re working our asses off just to make it through the week and you’d never have to work a day in your life if you were with that asshole.”

“It’s not about the money, Steve,” you agonize with the shake of your head. “I don’t love him. I would be so unhappy if I were with him because he’s not you. I don’t give a single fuck about France if you’re not gonna be there with me.”

You close the distance between you as you walk from the entrance to where he sits in the living room. He can hardly look at you as you round the couch to stand ahead of him, sparing only meek glances your way.

The small smile on your lips only half puts out the fire raging in his chest. It’s one of those natural wildfires now. The kind that you’ve just got to let burn.

“What do I have to do, Steve? What do you want me to do to prove that I just want you?” you ask him softly, nudging your sock-clad foot with his own. “I’ll fucking— I’ll find his number in the phone book right now and invite him over if you want—”

Yeah, because seeing him again is gonna make any of this shit better, he thinks bitterly to himself, though he’s pleasantly surprised by your following promise.

“I’ll make him come over here, act like I wanna catch up or whatever, and then make him watch while I suck your cock,” you paint the picture for him in a suddenly low, sultry tone.

Steve can almost see it — the look on Todd’s face as he stands in the foyer, his hands balled into fists at his side, wearing an angry amber tint upon his perfect face while he watches the girl that got away take a mouthful of another man’s dick. “I’ll get all nice and pretty on my knees for you and make him watch.”

Steve tenses at your words. His fingers twitch where they rests on his knees, itching to get a hold of you. His eyes go heavy as he gazes up at you, his stern stare looking much darker than before — hungrier.

Your eyes carry a similar sort of desire. They swim with innocence and yearning and knowing.

Because both of you understand how your fights usually end. You’ve been together long enough to know. The anger grows and grows in the belly of a dragon until it’s all you can do to keep your hands off of each other. You make Steve come so hard he forgets all the reasons he was raging in the first place and then he apologizes with his tongue deep inside you, touching you in all the tender ways he knows how.

“Yeah,” he breathes with a nod, the word heavy on his tongue. “That’s what I want.”

“You wanna own me, don’t you, Stevie?” you purr.

Your movements are calculated and cat-like as you mount him. Your hands caress him from his knees to his thighs, then rise up to his chest when you straddle his lap. “You wanna fuck me and make me forget about every guy that’s ever had me before you. Is that it?”

He nods, too dumb to speak for now. Your voice is all silk and heat. It reminds him of your wet, hot pussy sitting just over his lap. Only the thin layers of your clothes separate you from him.

“You wanna ruin everyone else for me, huh?”

“Fuck, yes,” he breathes, both in an answer and a moan as your hand reaches between you to grab his cock through his jeans.

“You already have,” you assure with a sincere twinkle in your eyes. “But feel free to remind me.”

When your mouths collide, it’s all tongue and teeth and spit. It’s not passionate, it’s dirty.

His tongue forces its way between your lips and into your mouth, rubbing every part of you he can reach with the muscle, like he wants you to feel all of him there — a lingering touch that you can’t get rid of.

Your mouths caress each other and then break apart again in acute, wet, and filthy clicks that fill the silence in the house.

His stubble softly scratches you as it rubs against your skin. The feeling of it sends chills down your spine. Fuck, you curse to yourself. It’d feel even better between your legs.

Steve separates from you suddenly, his teeth digging into your bottom lip. A whimper leaves your throat as he mouths at it. With hooded eyes, he lets it go and watches it fall back into place. Then he grabs your cheeks with two large palms and drags you back to him, sucking on the bitten skin and then on your tongue.

The sensation’s got you moaning, your eyes rolling back in your head, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Your obedient hands worm between your bodies to unbuckle his belt.

“You gonna be good for me?” Steve asks you while your fingers undo that button on his pants. His lips are pinker and more swollen, coated with a fine sheen of spit that matches what's smeared on his chin.

“I’ll be so good for you, Stevie,” you promise before reaching through the band of his underwear to wrap your fingers around his warm, half-hard cock.

A grunt escapes his throat as he slides your panties to the side. He’s suddenly grateful for the easy access granted by your dress — the one that makes your tits look like heaven, the one he was cursing just hours because it had Todd drooling all over himself when he saw you.

The thought of the man no longer angers him. He’s not the one with his finger between the lips of your pussy, already drenched and coated with you.

“Yeah? You want daddy to fill your hungry little cunt?” Steve asks you, almost taunting you. He only uses that nickname when he’s in a certain mood — the mood to ruin you.

The tip of his finger catches the peak of your swollen clit and you keen.

His touch makes you so stupid that you’ve already forgotten to answer his question. He makes sure to remind you, though, when his hand rears back and smacks against the bare flesh of your cunt.

You hear the wet slap before you feel it.

It makes you clench around nothing and moan louder for him, pressing yourself closer to him.

“Words,”he demands softly.

“Please,” you moan helplessly into his shoulder. You love when he gets like this, assertive and showy with the power you let him have over you. He gets mean with you, but never too much that you forget how much he loves you, and that’s when you like him best.

His finger slips so effortlessly into you. You could easily take more than that with the way your pussy is so eager to suck him inside. He knows it, too. He just wants to tease you.

He wants to leave you empty and yearning before he fucks you silly. For now, he’s taunting you with his slow and clinical touch, observing everything he’s doing to you and how it has you twitching and begging for more.

He wants to commit it all to memory.

He’s barely got the tip of his pointer and middle finger prodding at your clenching entrance; it’s your pussy that drags them further in, opening for him and then tightening around the appendages so they’ll never leave. The obscenity of it makes both of you moan.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty like this,” Steve mutters to himself. “And so fucking wet— enough for me to slip right in, don’t ya think?”

You’re not so sure but you nod into his shoulder anyway. Even after all this time together, you can’t quite get used to how big he is. He still has to work you up to take his cock, with three or more fingers shoved inside of you until you’re ready. Even then, it still burns for the first couple of seconds. There’s always a grace period that you have to wait for before he can move.

And you feel the ache of him in your belly after, every damn time. Like he’s still there.

But you’re so wet now, impossibly so, you don’t think you could feel a thing other than pure bliss when he nestles his cock deep inside of you.

You whine quietly when he pulls his fingers from you, though it turns into a breathy moan when you see them glisten with your wetness. He slides them over his length, jerking himself to lube himself up for you. Just for good measure, he grabs hold of his cock and rubs the rounded tip between your velvet lips, coating it further with your slick.

“Think there’s enough for me to take your ass tonight, baby?” he asks over your low moan. He has to hold back his own, grit his teeth to keep it from leaving his mouth. God, you feel exactly like silk. “You want me to fuck that tight little hole, huh? You’ve only let me in there, right?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer tightly.

He doesn’t know which question you’re answering. Probably all three. Or maybe you’re just moaning because he’s got you all stupid with his cock and it’s not even inside of you yet. Both seems most likely.

Steve positions himself against you. When you feel the bulbous tip of his head, you hardly wait to slide down, down, down upon his cock.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel full. It takes less time before he reaches the apparent end of you. The feeling makes you jolt against him, like your body’s trying to move back up and away from the sensation on instinct. He’s quick to grab your hips to keep himself inside you.

“Uh-uh,” he hums. “Don’t run away from me.”

“Fuck,” you moan into his shoulder and then whine. The pleasure and the accompanying ache has your head spinning. “You’re already so deep.”

“I know, baby. You gotta take all of me, though, okay? Said you were gonna me by good girl, remember?”

His coo is enough to comfort you. You nod against his neck and let him guide you further and further down his cock.

You grit your teeth when you think he can’t possibly fill you anymore. The burn peaks all at once and ebbs so quickly, letting the rest of his inches slide in you with ease. And, god, if you don’t feel him in your fucking throat.

He stills, thankfully, and lets you get used to the feeling of him all over again.

“There you go,” Steve praises like he always does and then laughs at how rigid you’ve gone. “Breathe, baby.”

The exhale comes out as a sob and a small “fuck”, but you force yourself to relax against him nonetheless. His warm hands rub soothingly against the buzzing skin of your thighs beneath the skirt of your dress. “Doing so good for me, baby.”

“I can feel you in my fucking guts right now,” you slur, voice fragile like glass.

Your words are almost enough to make him burst and you haven’t even moved yet. A deep, hearty groan climbs from his throat. He tips his heavy head to the back of the couch and clenches his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut to stave off the feeling.

He makes himself climb down from the peak of pleasure and quickly gain his bearings all over again.

“Ride me, honey,” he whispers you.

Immediately, you start rocking your hips against him. His sigh is blissful, almost dreamy, as he watches you work yourself on top of him.

You’re always so patient with your pleasure, so calculated and attentive. You slide your hips back over his thighs and then up again, moaning every time the material of his sweatshirt rubs against your clit. You’re not chasing the feeling, you’re letting it come slowly and ease its way up to you. You know you’ve got all the time in the world.

Steve has always admired your patience, but it’s never one he could hope to possess. He rides toward an orgasm on a white mare. He claims it, he hunts it, he snatches it. Because, you’re right, you’ve got all the time in the world — he wants you to come as many times as the night (or, rather, your pussy) will allow.

So it isn’t at all surprising when gets impatient with your slow movements. And when one hand falls to your ass and the other slides up your back and clutches the opposite shoulder, you know what you’re in for.

Even though you’re expecting it, a high-pitched moan spills from your mouth when he starts fucking up into you. He’s doing a whole lot more than just hitting the right spot. The rubbing of the fabric is unrelenting against your clit.

You’re always done for when he takes you like this. Both of you know it.

“You already close, aren’t you?” he manages through heavy pants over the lewd slapping of his thighs against your own. “This is all it takes, huh?”

“’S because of you,” you slur into the sticky skin of his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you moan.

He can feel himself getting closer and he groans through gritted teeth. The hand on your shoulder ascends to the back of your head. His fingers tangle in your hair and pull you from the refuge you’d found in the book of his shoulder. It allows him to see you for the first time since you’d mounted his cock.

Your cheeks are blotchy and glowing cherry. Your eyes are glassy and glazed over with pleasure. Your lips swollen from where you’d been biting at them.

Perfect, he thinks to himself.

He drags that hand to your chest, wrenching at the plunging neck and pushing it down to reveal your tits. They bound out of the fabric with ease, a small red and raw line at the tops of them from where the dress had kept them so tightly contained.

He palms at your left breast, digs his fingers into the fat of it and lets your hard and pebbled nipple rub against his palm.

“Fuck, baby,” he almost whines. It takes all of his willpower to keep his eyes open to look at them. “You’ve got the prettiest fucking tits I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s why I wore this— wanted your attention—” you confess through each of his thrusts.

“Yeah, you got my fucking attention, sweetheart,” he manages a breathy laugh.

His heart swells at the thought of you picking this dress because you thought he might like it. That you’d think of him doing something as mundane as picking what you wore out to the bar you went to every Friday night.

It gets too easy to want to slip into that softness. But he knows that you’re already close. So, so fucking close.

“Now come all over my cock for me, yeah?” he demands softly. “Cream on this dick and show me how good you are.”

And, like the good girl you are, don’t need to be told twice.

You shudder against him and then go rigid. He watches with a proud, lazy grin as you tip your head back, squeeze your eyes shut, and let your mouth fall agape. The feeling in your stomach builds and builds and builds, the pleasure disappearing for a moment, before coming back in an explosion that makes you gush.

As though your moans weren’t enough of a confirmation of your orgasm, you go so unmistakably tight around him that it makes his legs twitch beneath you. He angles his hips so he can peek between the two of you to watch the sheen of your cum glisten on his hard cock.

“God, you’re so fucking sensitive like this— holy shit.”

“Steve!” you whine when your high starts to fade and his thrusts only quicken.

He's chasing his own pleasure now, you know that, but the feeling against your abused pussy is growing into a nearly unbearable one.

You bite your lip so hard it’s a wonder you don’t draw any blood. You grip his shoulders and ball his sweatshirt in your fist, tethering yourself to him and to reality.

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” he asks with his chin jutted out to look up at you. “Who else can fuck you like this?”

You can tell by his glassy eyes and erratic thrusts that he’s close to his own orgasm. He always wants you to talk him through it, to praise him and to tell him how good he makes you feel. For obvious reason, the whole thing comes terribly natural to you.

“Only you,” you promise tiredly. “’S just you, Stevie—”

“Fuck,” he spits and tilts his head to the back of the couch. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and brings his bottom lip between his teeth, never easing his impossibly swift thrusts.

“Want you to come in me,” you whisper to him. You rest your arms on his shoulders and drag your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp and pulling every time he lets a moan slip. “Want you to come so deep inside me— I’m dripping for days—”

“Shit, baby.”

“And then, when I’m all round and full with your baby— everyone’s gonna know who I belong to, right?”

“Fuck yes,” he groans. “Gonna come so— fuck— so nice and deep in this pussy. My pussy.”

“Please,” you beg, like you aren’t half-delirious with your own pleasure. “Come in your pussy, Stevie.”

“Holy shit—” His cock pulses and twitches and then spits inside you. He grabs onto your hips more roughly than he intended and keeps you tightly pressed against him while he comes, giving you several long and warm ropes against your velvet walls. He whimpers when your pussy flutters around him.

You collapse against him when his orgasm comes and goes, rocking against his lap to get him through his high until he stops you with a firm squeeze to your thigh. You both sink further into the couch, swimming in the peaceful void that pleasure always pushes you into.

He rubs his hands beneath the skirt of your dress, petting your warm and sticky skin as the after-sex bliss rest heavily upon the both of you.

“Here,” he breaks the satin silence and taps at your hip. “Get off, baby. Let me get you some water or something—”

He feels you shake your head from where you’ve tucked it in his shoulder again. “Don’t wanna move. Want you to stay inside me.”

“Yeah?”

You’ve never done this before — cockwarming. He’s not sure if you have before, but he definitely hasn’t, and certainly not with you.

Before you, he was the kind of asshole that went to sleep right after sex. The thought of staying inside his partner never crossed his mind. But to his defense, none of his partners thought to do it either. Being King Steve and all meant there wasn’t a lot of cuddling going on after sex. It was usually one-and-done affairs, but he never did this with any of his girlfriends before either.

And now that he’s matured into a somewhat respectable adult, he takes great pride in taking care of you after, in cleaning you up and making sure you’re alright. And when you’re either falling asleep or wanting to shower, there’s no room to be kept inside you. Not until now.

“Wanna fall asleep like this,” you confess. The way you’re halfway slurring and settling more heavily against him tells him you’re not too far off.

“That’s not gonna be comfortable for you, baby,” he scolds softly. Because him — he’s perfect like this. He’s slouched in the plush cushion of the couch and you’re wrapped so tightly around him (in every possible way) you've become his own personal blanket.

But your back is hunched from where your neck is snug and pressed into his shoulder. You’ll likely wake up aching tomorrow, in more ways than one.

“Don’t care,” you mumble and sprinkle kisses to his neck, just because you can. “Wanna stay like this forever.”

“Forever?” he laughs tiredly.

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You shift on his lap to look at him, exhaling a moan through your nose when you feel him twitch inside of you, even though he’s going steadily soft. Your gaze is innocent and yearning and knowing — hungry again. “Think you can take that, Harrington?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he promises with a sincere twinkle in his cinnamon colored eyes. “I can take it.”

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #stranger things #stevie oneshot #published by bug #st oneshots

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indieyuugure · 1 month

Note

Hi indie!

I don’t know if this will ruin any future plots for your indie turtles

But…

Will Splinter die in your turtles story? If not, where is he when they go to the space arc or when they are outside of New York?

Love your art❤️

Uh, I don’t believe it will.

No I don’t want Splinter to die in my version, I much prefer he stays alive.

Okay but for your second question, I actually had this idea that he finds the turtles while they’re in Space. Maybe sometime like the middle of their adventure, but he just like shows up. Maybe something like this:

I have some drafts and stuff of Splinter’s adventure where after almost having a panic attack because his boys won’t answer their phones and haven’t come back even after the sun rose, he drops Klunk off at April’s place, aggressively interrogates information out of Bishop. He then goes on to steal an alien starship and traverses the galaxies playing detective in search of his boys eventually finding Trax’s ship and on it, his very shocked boys.

I feel like I would really love to incorporate him in if not just because I love Splinter, but also because I feel like it wouldn’t be in character for Splinter to just shrug and be like “Yep it’s cool, my sons were probably kidnapped by sadistic nightmarish aliens but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Good questions! :]

#tmnt #q&a #indie’s turtles #indie tmnt

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baskeigh-ball · 3 months

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God I love that swap au, especially with Raph. Cause like he's always the one to take the heavy hits for the team, he's used to an even encourages people to test his durability/strength at times. So to now be in a body that's suddenly the exact opposite would make me want to wrap myself in 50 layers of bubble wrap and never leave

As one of the many vocal Raph enthusiasts on this site, YES EXACTLY YOU SEE MY VISION

It was the obvious choice for Raph to be in Don's body because it has so much potential! He's has to force himself not to be the shield now!! He's going against a lifetime of Toughest Biggest Brother Instincts because he's not the toughest biggest brother anymore!!!

He figures out why Donnie is so obsessed with his tech--which, he had a basic understanding before, but now he REALLY gets it. A softshell has very few natural defenses. He can get hurt much more easily, so he uses a battle shell to pick up the slack. But I can imagine Raph becoming waay too attached to the shell. Even though it goes haywire sometimes because he has no clue how it works, it becomes his security blanket.

Not to mention his strategy in battle is completely overhauled because he's not the Punchy Guy anymore. Well, he's still a heavy hitter, but he has to rely on technology instead of his own raw mystic strength. So he's basically rendered useless, at least by his own logic, because what good is Donnie without Donnie's brain?

He never thinks that about Donnie tho, in fact he and Mikey and Leo have spent years trying to uplift their brother and make him know that his self-worth is not attached to what he can offer to the team. But, of course, Raph doesn't cut himself the same slack. I can also imagine him slightly resenting the others for having an easier time adjusting to their different weaponry, meanwhile he's left with high-tech armor that never listens to him and tries to kill him just as often as it protects him. Just saying, it's inevitable that he snaps eventually but that's another story for another day

Sorry for ranting, I have too many thoughts about the silly red turtle and it comes out in the form of word vomit since I have nowhere else to shout into the void about my obsession with him lmao

#surprise surprise- i made another au because i wanted to focus it on my favorite red turtle #sorry to anyone following me that prefers leo or donnie #this account is raph and mikey All The Way #(but mostly raph)#rottmnt #asks open #rottmnt mind swap #mind swap drabbles

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