The Day People From The United States Understand That Gringo Is Not A Fucking Racial Slur, That Brazil

Agradeço a todos que colaboraram com minhas 1000 curtidas!

do not forget the patron saint of these weeks that we celebrate ourselves proudly and openly in the streets

her name was Marsha P Johnson, and we have her to thank for so much.

remember, the first Pride was a riot, and she was one of the brave souls who endured it to help carve the path which so many of us walk today. she helped found several activist groups regarding LGBT safety and wellbeing. and she was absolutely radiant, too.

thank you, Marsha. we remember you.

Hello I really like your work, do you think you could yandere Leo/Donnie with a reader that cries really easily?

A/N, not important: YES I KNOW I HAVE A SCHEDULE NOW BUT LEON SAID I COULD IGNORE IT ONCE A MONTH AND I AM SO PROUD OF THIS. This was so fun to do because I am the most emotional person, and I cry so much it isn't even funny. I apologize for the headcanon bit, I really suck at writing them and Leo's contradicts himself left and right lmaooo. Maybe I'll go back and rework them one day. Am VERY proud of the fic portion though. Once I finish a last couple fics, I might do Raph and Mikey for this as well. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: Needles(Donnie), kidnapping, restraints, crying, dark themes, yandere

Words: 3629

Summary: Yandere Leo and Donnie navigate trying to deal with their darling who cries easily

Leo:

He finds your sniffles and tears a bit endearing, and it plays into his hero complex. You’re just the cute little human who can’t handle the real world. That’s why he saved you, whisking you away to the lair to ‘keep you safe’. 

Teases you relentlessly for it. He finds it funny, albeit a bit worrying. He knows how easy you cry though, and isn’t all that concerned. He’s been watching you for years, he’s well aware how easily you’re set off.

He knows you’re only crying because of him, so he feels safe poking fun at you. It’s not like you’d willingly let him help, so he might as well have some fun if you’re going to be ‘dramatic’.

He’s determined to make you smile one of these days instead of breaking into sobs when he gets too close, but until then, he’ll just pretend your tears are from the joy of seeing him.

While he does find your puffy eyes slightly adorable, your countless tears do slightly annoy him. He doesn't like that you cry at the sight of him, or whimper at his touch. You’re supposed to love him. He usually ends up guilt tripping you after a few minutes, trying to make you feel bad for your emotions.

If he goes too far in his teasing and realizes what he’s saying is actually hurting you, he immediately changes gears and starts pampering you instead. He loves you, you’re his darling. He was just trying to get back at you for crying whenever he touched you. He didn’t mean to actually upset you. He just thought you were a crybaby.

Instantly pulls you close and starts actually trying to comfort you. He holds you in his arms while whispering apologies, letting himself be more vulnerable with you. You love him after all, you’re just confused. If he can’t be vulnerable with you, how can he expect you to ever trust him.

His favorite thing to do is kiss your tears away, trying to comfort you through bouts of affection. He knows you’re more sensitive, so once he realizes it’s serious, he’ll take care of you.

If you cry for a reason other than being scared of him, he’s quick to help you with your problem and comfort you, even if his form of comfort makes you cry more. It’s not his fault you hate his amazing hugs. He can’t deal with you crying for another reason, it means you got hurt or are thinking of something that’s not him. He can’t have that.

If you’re crying from a person or because you’re hurt(either emotionally or physically), he gets more serious and takes care of you. He’ll put on a movie and burrito you in blankets until you can’t get out, then snuggle up with you and whisper sweet nothings while you’re stuck. He finds it sweet and caring. You find it nerve wracking.

If a person makes you cry, he’ll gladly go remove them so they’ll never bother you again. If it was one of his brothers, he’d mess with something they enjoy and be as petty as possible to them for the next few days. He doesn't want you to truly be upset.

I let out a small groan as a buzzing sounds through my head and rattles my skull. I slowly shake off the sleep, trying to ignore how heavy I felt. My skin tingles uncomfortably, as if there were bugs crawling just underneath the skin. I stretch in my bed, confused to feel a plush comforter on top of me. A distant rattling sounds as I move and my wrists are tugged painfully back into place. My eyes flutter open and I look around, panic coursing through me. This wasn’t my bed. This wasn’t my room.

Where in the world was I?

I feel my throat start to tighten as a heavy weight settles on my chest. This was wrong. I pull uselessly at the restraints connecting my wrists to the pole that stretched from floor to ceiling. No matter how hard I tug, it didn’t give. All it did was make the skin on my wrists red and inflamed. They were starting to burn. I look around my prison with misty eyes, trying to figure out my surroundings. It looked as if I was in a refurbished subway car.

I blink away my tears as I suck in a shaky breath. Crying wouldn’t help. I couldn’t cry, not now. I needed a clear mind to get out of here. Swallowing back the building tears, I scan the room for something that could possibly clue me in to what was happening. I was obviously kidnapped and restrained, but why?

Ransom? I shake my head. I wasn’t the most well off considering I was just a college student. That same logic applies to robbery. I wasn’t wealthy, and sure didn’t look at it. My family wasn't exactly the cream of the crop either.

I shakily exhale. Was I just brought here to be tortured and murdered? Just an unlikely victim of a crime of passion? I shudder at the thought, new tears brimming my eyes. This wasn’t fair. I just wanted to go home. I wipe a few tears off my cheeks as they fall, the salty liquid leaving small stains on my cheeks. I sniffle softly, trying to keep it down. Crying in front of my captor would not be the best.

My head shoots up as I hear the faint padding of footsteps outside the door, a loud voice shouting to others in the area. I thickly swallow. There was more than one. I was outnumbered, chained, and alone. I quickly settle back into the bed, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment before letting my face relax. I take a couple deep breaths to calm my tears. Years of crying at the slightest inconvenience sure helps when you need to calm down quickly. Although, I would argue this is a perfectly acceptable situation to cry over. Not that I wanted to.

The fluttering of a curtain being pushed to the side sounds through the room. I hear my captor walk towards me, a soft tune being hummed as he nears. His voice was smooth and crisp, way too happy to match the fear coursing through me. I feel a wave of disgust wash over me. This guy kidnapped me, and is now humming a happy little tune like everything was right in the world. I wanted to jump up and scream at him, hit him with everything I had. This wasn’t fair.

I stay still on the bed despite my violent desires. Doing such a bold action while I was chained would only result in my own injury. I try my best not to tense as I feel his presence near and the humming grow louder. I make sure to keep my cheeks soft, trying to keep up the facade of a deep sleep. Maybe if he saw I was sleeping, he’d leave me alone.

I feel a finger caress my cheek, tracing the tracks of my tears. I hold back a shudder at his touch, trying not to shake. I forgot about the tear tracks. My pulse thunders in my ears as every part of my body begs me to run, but I can’t. I was stuck, a loop of chain keeping me grounded. There was nowhere I could go. Nowhere to run, nor hide. I was trapped with a monster, awaiting my demise.

“You were crying.” The voice pauses for a moment, seemingly thinking. I try everything to keep my breathing steady. I hear a small chuckle from above me as the voice speaks once more, this time in a more teasing tone. “Aww, did you miss me that much?”

My breath hitches in my throat and I don’t breathe, trying to convince him of my unconsciousness. It doesn’t work. I feel a couple more quick taps to my face, each one sending a chill down my spine. I hear another chuckle above me as he continues to poke at my face, watching it scrunch up from my inability to control my muscles.

"Open your eyes, I wanna see them." The voice demands, despite his tone being surprisingly soft. I hold out for a moment more before I feel a sudden wetness and pressure in my ear cavity. I jolt back, glaring at him while I wipe my ear with the heel of my hand. I open my mouth to complain, to try and hold my ground, but all words leave me the moment I meet his eyes.

He was a turtle. A large, smug, humanoid turtle. His arms were muscular and the limited part I could see of his build was strong. Two stark red crescents peaked out of his blue mask and stood out against his green skin. I could barely understand what I was looking at. 

I gape at him for a moment, trying to process what I was seeing. A scream builds up in my chest, fear upon what I saw. His eyes were big and held a strong ego, scanning me up and

down for my reaction. 

"What, don't like what you see?" He asks, still grinning. It was if he thought this whole thing was some huge joke. Nothing more than something to laugh over as the years go by. I swallow the lump in my throat, trying to control my breathing. Too much was happening at once and I could feel my chest starting to constrict on me. The pressure keeps rising and my heart thumps loudly in my ears, drowning out the words I watch him speak but cannot hear. New tears prick at my eyes, quickly falling down my cheek and gathering at my chin before splashing onto my clothes and lap. The turtle's grin widens as he sees my tears, a small coo sounding from his throat. "I know, I know. This meeting was bound to get a bit emotional. It sure is shocking to meet your soulmate for the first time."

I pause at his words, blinking as more tears fall. I try to hold back the choked sobs as I hurriedly wipe away my tears, feeling weak and pathetic for crying in what was possibly my killer. In the least, he was certainly my kidnapper. Showing any ounce of emotional vulnerability in front of him made me feel like I was falling further into his grasp, the chains around my wrists rattling quietly as I move my hands. I jolt back as his three fingered hands move to cup my cheeks, holding my face tight to keep me from squirming away. Tears continue to roll down my cheeks, completely out of my control. His blue masked face just smiles, wiping them as they fall with his thumbs.

Donnie:

He gets really upset at your constant stream of tears. You’re supposed to be happy with him. He doesn’t understand why you insist on throwing a ‘tantrum’ every time he comes near you or something slightly inconvenient happens. Your emotions don’t make much sense to him, even if he realizes the pattern.

Donnie’s not the best at empathizing with your tears. He finds them annoying and proof of you not settling him in. In his mind, the tears equal his own failures as a lover.

The more you cry, the more intense he’ll get. It’ll start with him trying to find solutions and devolve into threats. He just wants you to stop crying. Why won’t you stop crying?

Despite knowing you will cry at anything, he still takes it personally every time. It starts to annoy him and stress him out as he desperately tries to figure out what’s wrong.

Will probably lock you in his room if you keep crying. He doesn’t want to deal with it. Your tears stress him out and make him feel bad, which he doesn’t want. You’re supposed to love him, not cry at the sight of him.

If you’re crying about him or something he did(in his mind, something you made him do), he’ll just ignore your cries. He may snap at you to shut up a couple times, but just grumbles under his breath other than that.

The reason he hates it when you cry is because it makes him feel bad. He learned pretty quickly the way he tries to comfort you doesn’t help much, so instead he just ignores you. He would love to hold you close and keep you occupied so your tears stop, but you never let him touch you. At least, not without a fight. He usually gets fed up enough to leave you alone, but he’ll probably ignore you for days afterwards as a punishment.

If you have a ‘valid’ reason to cry(according to him), he’ll step in and actually help you. He’ll try to comfort you to the best of his ability. He doesn’t want anyone else to bring you pain, so he’ll take care of the problem and make sure to help you. He’ll pull you close as he works and let you cry into his chest for once, ignoring the way you fight him.

He wishes so badly you’d just stop crying. Sometimes he’ll even go to Mikey for advice on how to make you not so scared. It hurts him to see it, and it makes him more agitated with you, which ends in more tears. He wants it to stop.

He tries not to physically punish you for crying. He hates your tears, but you are doing a relatively good thing by trusting Donnie enough to cry in front of him. He’ll usually end up building you a quick item to keep you occupied or have SHELLDON spend time with you until you calm down. He doesn’t want to make your sobs worse.

If he wants affection, and you cry, he’ll just not care. He’ll spoon you from behind so you don’t get your tears on him and hold you close. He’s not willing to give up his own needs for your dramatics.

Bright lights shine into my closed eyelids, my body recoiling as my eyes start to open. I keep them squeezed shut, trying to minimize the damage to my sight. To my left, soft footfalls could be heard paired with a low muttering. I try to move my limbs, my breath hitching once I realize I was strapped down. I feel my breathing quicken, my blood running cold. I let my eyes flutter open, ignoring the way the bright burned my retinas as I force my eyes into focus. Tears built up in the corners of my eyes while my chest tightened.

I couldn’t move. My head was stuck between two large pieces of padding and my limbs were strapped down. The cold metal of the straps burned into my skin, the padding pressing uncomfortably against my cheeks. My face grows hot with tears as I try to force them down, not wanting to alert the presence at my left to my consciousness. A small gasp sounds, and I realize I was too late.

A large, humanoid turtle moves into my vision, my heart pounding in fear as he looks me up and down. I couldn’t help but gasp at his appearance while he towers over me. A purple mask covered the top half of his face, only showing his cold eyes. I look at the purple metal on his back, watching the light catch it to make it shimmer. The purple markings on his shoulders and thighs seemed to glow with the screen he had in front of him, glancing between it and me. His face is scrunched up in thought while he stares down at me, the look of surprise in his eyes morphing into one of confusion. I stay silent, unable to wipe the tears trailing down my cheeks away, unable to keep my dignity in front of this monster.

I couldn’t help but wish for my parents, for freedom. Silent tears continued to build up and fall while the figure in front of me stared me down. His eyes were glued to my cheeks and my expression, one I could only imagine is of terror. He raises his hand to grab my face and I flinch.

I press my head against the headrest of the chair, trying to dodge his approaching hand. He ignores my attempts, grabbing my face firmly and frowning as he stares into my eyes. He wipes my tears before dropping his hand down to cup my chin. I struggle as he forces my face up to make me look at him, a short whimper being pulled from my throat. I blink back more tears, unsure what to make of the turtle in front of me. He continues to stare down my shaking form for a moment, his bottom lip jutting out.

“Are you… Crying?” His surprisingly smooth voice asks. I scrunch my face up, confused why he was even asking. His question took me a bit off guard. Why was he confused about my tears? Sure, I cried more easily than most people, but this situation wasn’t one I would consider something I shouldn’t cry over. The turtle continues to stare me down, seemingly waiting for me to answer. I don’t. I had nothing to say. My voice wouldn’t let me either way. He drops my chin with a glare, rolling his eyes. I let out a breath of relief when he backs up, my limbs still shaking slightly from the fear. I watch him move around the room, not sure whether to be relieved or worried when he ducks out of my sight. 

"Your tears won't phase me." He says, the clinking of metal and glass punctuating his words. I hear a small beep along with liquid being swirled around, my fear rising. Was I about to be experimented on? To be ripped apart and killed brutally? What would something like him even want with me? "Cry all you want, but it won't stop me. You're mine."

His words make me pause as I try to decipher the meaning of his words while he comes back into my line of vision. He's absentmindedly pulling a medical cart with him, staring down at the screen on his wrist. I try to look at the contents of the medical cart, but his body is blocking my sight. I gulp. What could he possibly want? The pads around my head feel sticky from my tears. I wanted to be away from this dreaded chair so bad. I wanted to go home. The turtle looks at me again, smirking at my discomfort. I take a deep breath as he drops his wrist and wheels the cart in front, ready to show off the torture he planned on putting me through.

My breath leaves my chest when I see four syringes lined neatly on the surface of the cart, a sharps container and needles off to the side. I feel as though I had been doused in cold water, new tears springing to my eyes. I was right, I was about to be experimented on then killed. There was no way I could fathom getting out of this alive. I grip the armrest of the chair I was strapped to, my hand cramping and my knuckles turning white from the force. His eyes meet mine and narrow slightly, tsking at the new tears rolling down my cheeks. He didn’t comment on them, but he seemed obviously relieved I wasn’t making much noise. If I could, I would thank the heavens I was a silent crier.

His gaze follows mine to the medical cart holding the needles, a thoughtful hum sounding from his throat. He turns back to me, he drawn eyebrows raising. “I am aware of your allergy to penicillin, and I can assure you there is none in any of the injections I’m about to give you.”

I pause at his words, trying to understand how he knew that. Did he run tests on me while I was asleep? Access my medical history? I shudder at the thought, my mouth too dry to scream and shout all the things I wanted to. My eyes widen as he comes near me with the first shot, his three-fingered hands covered in latex gloves. I struggle violently against the straps, trying desperately to escape. A loud sob is pulled from my chest as more tears pour down my face, fear crashing over me in strong waves.

The turtle pauses, looking down at my mess of a form. A minute goes by as he watches me panic, his right eye twitching. He looks down at the needle in his hand and frowns, tapping his thigh repeatedly with the unoccupied hand. He looks back at me, ignoring my teary face. “I was not aware you had trypanophobia. I apologize, but I really need to do this. If you close your eyes, it’ll be easier. Your struggling will only make it worse.

I suck in a shaky breath, trying to speak. I blank at his words, my eyes still trained on the needle. I assumed he thought I had a fear of needles, and not of being injected with a mystery liquid. Hopefully my death would be quick. He reaches out with one hand and stabilizes my arm, bringing the needle dangerously close to my flesh. I sob harder, trying to jerk away from him, but to no avail. I take one last look at the world around me, expecting to not be able to see it for much longer. I close my eyes and try not to scream as the needle enters my skin.

Classic Leo for a change.

What do you all study when you're doing art studies??

[ 📌 ] Update

Ok, to be honest I don't like Madness Combat anymore since September. I will stop of forcing myself to write for it, mainly because I am not enjoying it and every single piece I write is turning into shit. The only thing I got from trying harder was a burnout, writer's block and guilt for not being able to accomplish people's requests.

I won't delet the asks, I'm only going to write for another fandoms for now, and then write one or another. Sorry if you have requested and only wasted your time.

And my blog will have a Update. I have been planning it since last year.

I'm sorry but I love vintage lesbians so much idgaf that you think media is oversaturated by lesbian period dramas I for one think we need MORE lesbian period dramas- 1950s lesbians, 20s flapper girl lesbians, post war lesbians, Victorian lesbians, rriot girl lesbians, butch perfomers in gay bars lesbians I WANT

It okay if you want to get rid of your autism.

Lot of people on internet say that autism great and that they like it. That okay too, everyone allowed own opinion on self.

But not make you bad person if you don’t like it.

It hard having meltdowns and sensory overload. Hard to need others to care for self.

You allowed to dislike your autism.

POV : he made you laugh so hard you snorted and he was whacked in the face with the "oh, its them. I want it to be them"

dumbasss also doesn't realise you fell in love like a year ago.

i did this in 2 hours i can't express how much i was POSSESSED with this idea and the facial journey he'd go through. I am so in the court if "you fell first, but he fell harder" lane with leo. But in that way where it's not that he loves you less but in how hard it hits him all at once and he can't react to the intensity of it beyond the "oh, oh. OH. Oh okay. Yeah, no." and im going insane on this here day thank you

Rise! Boys with a S/O that has a bad swearing habit:

Leonardo

Lowkey encourages it.

He just thinks it’s really funny how shamelessly you throw the “forbidden words” out there.

Will bust out laughing when you casually tell someone to fuck off.

When you describe it as a bad habit, though, he pulls back a bit.

Offers the idea to replace any swears with random words in Spanish.

(That’s what he does.

He never actually swears in Spanish, though.

It’s pretty funny.)

Will absolutely let you be a bad influence on him, much to the others’ dismay.

“What the fuck was up with that guy at Hueso’s the other night?”

“Yeah, what a shithead.”

“HEY—”

*Dramatic gasp*

“No, no, let him cook—”

Donatello

…. Okay? What of it?

He honestly doesn’t care.

Words are words.

He tends to cycle between his innocent dessert-inspired swears to the most vile combinations of letters to ever grace the planet.

It’s like Russian roulette.

Oh the rants you two will fall into.

Venting to one another brings enough curses to the world that it would have the members of Witch Town shaking.

Overall, he’s pretty indifferent to it, but if it’s bothering you, he’ll do his best to assist.

Though as someone who has his own bad habits, it’s less of him helping you and more of you leaning on each other.

It can become a bit competitive, though.

“Quit biting your nails, you’re gonna fuck them up.”

“Keep yourself from swearing for the next five minutes and I’ll consider it.”

Raphael

Oh the poor sweet thing.

Literally the “no more saying cuss words guys! 😨 it’s inappropriate and violent! 😖” kid.

He loves you, but he’s pretty uncomfortable by how often you swear.

He softened up a bit when you explained it wasn’t entirely voluntary.

He knows what it’s like to lose control sometimes, mild or severe.

He gets you a chewing stim toy to bite down on whenever you feel the urge to swear, as he had a similar method when he was younger and adjusting to his strong jaw.

Will absolutely glare at you if you’re about to curse.

“Oh, fu—”

“🤨”

“uuuuuuuuudgesicles. Fudgesicles.”

“😊”

Overall, he’s very supportive.

Michelangelo

So here’s the thing.

Mikey is no stranger to swearing.

In fact he probably has the foulest mouth in the family with Donnie as a close second.

He gets away with it because:

A. Youngest privilages

B. No one expects it from him

C. Dr. Delicate Touch

He also keeps his swearing to a minimum around his brothers (cough cough Raph cough).

But when you two are together, all Hell breaks loose.

His behavior does switch when he learns that you recognize it as a bad habit, and suddenly you find yourself in a Dr. Feelings seminar.

He helps you find alternative vocal stims to use instead of swearing that still hold enough bite to be satisfactory.

He practices these with you for his own sake as well, so similarly to Donnie, the two of you lean on each other.

If the situation calls for it, however…

“DID YOU STEAL MY FUCKING PINK STAR???”

“Noooo ☺️”

“…..”

“I’m gonna fucking skin you—”