Sometimes We All Just Need A Reminder That Being Strong Isn't The Same As Being Alone 🧡
sometimes we all just need a reminder that being strong isn't the same as being alone 🧡
*comes into ask how with a shaky smile*
Howdy there Hon. I hope the New Years been treating you alright so far, and I wish that it will continue to bless you with the goodness you deserve ✨🧡
Sorry to bother your inbox again, but this is “Independent Woman” from a request a couple weeks ago and I've had kind of a rough day, and your writing always makes me smile.
If it's not too much to ask, may I request a follow-up on that prompt please? How the Bayverse/Rise boys would react to their stubbornly independent SO having a rough day to the point that they cave and ask for cuddles?
No stress, no worries if you're not in the mood for it. I totally understand. Please take care of yourself first and foremost! Please drink water and know you are appropriated! 🧡✨
howdy anon-chan! 🧡
i'm so sorry that you've had a rough day. i hope at this point it's going a little better and that you're able to get the rest you need. there's a quote that i like to think about when i'm having a rough time: "Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow." -Mary Anne Radmacher
anyway, i hope this helps you smile!
(here's the other post)
Leonardo
Leo has been waiting for (hoping for, praying for) this, for you to come to him in your time of need. He feels bad, he doesn't actually want you to have a bad time or a rough day, but at the same time he loves to be needed. He already has a plan in place.
Mikey scampers off at his signal, and Leo escorts you to his room. There he encourages you to get under the covers and mess up his bed however you need to in order to get comfy.
Then he climbs in with you and holds you. He doesn't ask about what's wrong, doesn't try to talk to you about anything. He can tell that isn't what you need right now.
Mikey comes in (quietly for once) with some tea. He sets the tray down on the bedside table and smiles at you before quickly leaving. Leo tells you that the tea is there if you want it, then goes back to quietly holding you.
You realize, after laying in his arms for a while, that he is meditating. You try to match your breathing to his, and you see a small smile steal across his face when he feels what you are doing. You fell right into his trap.
The two of you breathe in sync for a while, just soaking in each other's presence.
If you decide to talk about it, Leo listens very closely to you. He's not confident that it will happen, but he hopes that you'll tell him if it's something he can help with. No matter what though, if you just need to vent or need advice or need him to do something for you, he will respect your wishes.
Raphael
Raph's first instinct is to find out who hurt you so that he can go take care of them. Fortunately, he goes with his second instinct, which is to bundle you in his arms and carry you to his room.
Once there, he climbs into bed and rearranges the two of you until you are both comfortable. He makes sure you are completely covered with him, his strong hands rubbing your back. "I've got ya sweetheart. What do ya need?"
Raph isn't quite confident in his ability to comfort you, so he does need some guidance. But once you let him know what you need, he's on top of it.
If you just want to curl up on his plastron and be held, he will stay with you as long as you need. He will rub your back. He will be your own personal weighted blanket. Gentle touches or rough hugs, hell if you need him to distract you he will. Anything for you.
(Raph finds that he wants to give you the gentle touches. He wants to hold you gently, he wants to show you softness. But if that's not what you need, he'll just have to talk to you about it later. This ain't about him.)
If you want to talk about it, if you need to vent, Raph'll listen. He'll empathize. He might growl or mutter as you talk, but he won't interrupt. If you want advice, he'll do his best to give it to you.
Anything you need, he'll get it for you. Drink, food, more pillows? It's there almost before you ask for it. You won't have to lift a finger or do anything if you don't want to. "I'll take care of you princess."
Donatello
Donnie immediately has so many questions, but he sets them aside. You asked him to help you learn how to be cared for, so he's going to do just that.
He takes to the lab, because the bed there is comfier than the one in his room. He puts on some music you like and turns down the volume. He encourages you to climb in and climbs in behind you. He lays down and lets you climb on him however you want.
Once the two of you are comfortable, he asks if you want to talk about it. He realizes that you need to be guided into asking for what you want, and he's prepared to do that. Your answer is the beginning of the mental flow chart Donnie created specifically for caring for you.
If you do want to talk about it, Donnie first asks if you want advice or if you just want to vent. Once that's established, he is an active listener. He asks questions and gives you nudges if he thinks you need it. He'll make those snarky comments that make you laugh. He checks in periodically to make sure that you're still okay. Talking to Donnie will always make you feel better.
If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay too. He'll ask if there's anything you need, then send the drone to zap Raph into getting it for you. Once Raph is gone (rubbing his arm and muttering murderously), Donnie settles in for a nice long cuddle session with you.
If you're okay with it, he pulls up some work. He asks if you want a distraction, and if so he'll start telling you about what he's doing. Donnie works with one hand while the other absentmindedly rubs your arm. He still checks in every once in a while to make sure you're okay and ask if you need anything.
Michelangelo
Mikey, much like Leo, hates that you're upset but is so happy that you came to him so he could care for you. This is a huge step, you're making progress! Now it's his turn to make progress, to show you how he can care for you.
He asks if you need anything first, so he can grab it without interrupting the "epic cuddle session" you're about to have. (Later, when you ask him to get you something, he'll interrupt the cuddle session anyway with zero complaints. He just wants you to be happy.)
Once that's all taken care of, he hustles you off to his room, hand on your back. Thank the pizza gods that Leo had forced him at sword point to clean it the day before. You both get in bed and get comfy.
He holds you as if you are a treasure, a beloved teddy bear. It is hard to believe that Mikey can be this gentle. He wraps you in blankets and props you up with pillows until you are surrounded in softness and him.
Then he starts to talk. He chatters on about anything and everything, whatever comes to mind. His skateboard tricks, their latest encounter with the Foot, Raph breaking his most recent lifting record... you are caught up on ALL the turtle gossip.
Mikey doesn't stop until he gets a smile out of you. When he sees it, his answering smile lights up the room. He asks if you are feeling better. If you are, he starts being silly, kissing your face and tickling you until you are crying from laughter. If you aren't, he asks if you want to talk about it. He'll listen and commiserate with you, and support you no matter what.
More Posts from Theanonymousninja247 and Others
HoLy FliPpEn ChIcKeN iS tHaT sUpPoSeD tO bE a BlAcK hOlE oN cRiTs JaCkEt sLeEvE?! (Impeccable design may I just say like chef kiss) *excited astronomic nerd noises activate*
AND YOU SAID HE HAS A PASSION FOR ASTRONOMY!?! Holy cheese and crackers ! I need him to meet my OC Vincent so they can be star buddies and explore the wonders of the galaxy together! (If you can’t tell I don’t have many astronomical friends, so I am ESTATIC that somebody else has a passion for it! 😁🙌🏼✨🧡)
...I was asked concerning Crit's colors, SO--
Aggressive Affection at its finest. Chef kiss 😚🤌🏼
part1 | part2 | part3 | part 4
context: 1/ 2 / 3
I don’t know if I can show you, but here’s a piece of one very cool thing
I might not be the best…well anything…but if there’s ONE thing I’m good at, it’s being an enthusiastic fan. So y’all can bet your bottom dollar I’m gonna do my best to help. You’ve got my solemn promise 🫡🧡❤️💜💙
Signal boost! Please read if you want to save ROTTMNT!
Resources!
Hashtags: #SaveROTTMNT #SaveRiseoftheTMNT #UnpauseROTTMNT #UnpauseRiseoftheTMNT #SaveRiseofTMNT #RiseSeason3 #RiseTMNT
Who to address your posts to…
Tumblr: @ nickelodeon @ paramount
Twitter: @ nickelodeon @ paramount @ brianrobbinstv
Instagram: @ nickelodeon @ brobtv @ paramount @ tmnt
Blue sky: @ Nickelodeon @ paramountpictures.sky.social
Incorrect Quotes that anyone is free to draw…
Save Rise of the TMNT Masterpost
Memory
RaphaelxReader
Warnings: Amnesia, Angst
(this is so tropey and self indulgent that I was almost too embarrassed to post it, thank you @the-cauldron-witch for giving me the stones. Apologies in advance. 😅)
"What are you to me?"
You freeze, your pen stopping mid-letter. For the last week you'd been trying to figure out how to answer if he asked, and you were still at a loss.
Don't think for him, Donnie'd said, the memories are there, he just has to form the connections. They'll be stronger, and this will go faster, if you let him do that on his own.
He knows he shouldn't be asking, but every time he looks at you he feels like he's missing something important, and the way you look at him sometimes... he can't bear it.
"We should, um," you clear your throat, looking very intentionally at the paper in front of you, "we should really focus on this analysis. The more data we can feed Donnie, the sooner he can figure out of there'll be any serious lasting consequences to this."
"I'm missing three years of my life, I'd say that's pretty serious," he quips, humorlessly. You still haven't looked up at him. Jaw tight, measured breaths the only thing keeping your hand steady. You'd been keeping it together for the last two weeks, you couldn't break now. Least of all in front of him.
Six hours trapped in a reinforced refrigeration truck. He only survived because of what little body heat you could offer, but you'd both nearly died. You woke a few days later, in the infirmary, your hands still raw and recovering from frostbite, but Raphael... didn't.
For fifteen days, no one knew if he was going to survive. You didn't sleep. You couldn't eat. You wouldn't leave his side. The number of arguments you and Donatello had about you resting were in the double digits. He might lose his brother, he wasn't going to lose his best friend, too. The only way you agreed was by dragging the couch beside the cot Raphael was laying in.
When he awoke he couldn't remember much of anything. Slowly, over the course of the next week, memories drifted back like smoke. He remembered his father, his brothers, April, his best friend, Casey, that dumb ass, Vern, but not you. The last three years are still a blur and none of it makes any sense.
He looks at you like a familiar face at the grocery store. Like something is digging at the back of his mind, something important, but he can't quite place you. He looks at you with curiosity, even attraction at times, but the love that you built and fought for, through death and distance, is gone.
You inhale, before the pen begins to move again in your hand. He reaches up and stops it.
"Y/N..." The familiar feeling of his hand around yours, his thumb gently brushing the hollow of your wrist, makes your chest ache and your eyes fall closed.
Tears glitter at the seam of your eyelashes, as the words slip free unbidden, barely louder than a whisper, "I miss you..."
His hand stills, there it is again. That feeling, understanding just outside his reach, he's pulled to you and he doesn't know why. Everything you do affects him, and right now, you're crying, and he would tear the world apart to see you smile again.
You inhale sharply, pushing yourself to your feet and pulling your hand from his, leaving the pen on the table, "I need to go."
"Y/N, wait," he begs, quickly, standing, "please, I-"
All of your faculties are being used to keep you in one piece. You don't even have the ability to attempt any kind of excuse. "I'll be back tomorrow night. We can finish the analysis then." You shove your laptop into your bag and zip it closed, slinging it over your shoulder, before you rush out of the lair to echoes of him begging you to stay.
You barely make it home before you collapse by the couch and weep. Three years. Three years just gone.
You pull the deep red blanket he made you last winter off the couch and wrap yourself in it, in him, in his scent, because it's the only thing of his you can wrap around you.
You let yourself cry. Mourn. Since he woke up, you've been shoving everything down and away.
This is not about you, you'd scolded yourself.
You'd reminded yourself it must be worse for him. He's probably terrified, losing so much time must be scary as hell. And you'd kept it together. Every time he looked at you with that question in his eyes. Every time he said "hey" and kept walking. Every time he touched you... and let go.
But you've reached your breaking point
The feeling of his hand on your wrist was so familiar, and you were pulled back into lazy evenings in bed, the sunset painting your skin, as the two of you found any excuse not to get up for work. Comfortable, safe, warm. Things you haven't felt since before all of this started. And it was all too much.
Violent sobs rip through your body, as your heart rages in your chest. It's not fair. You'd already been through so much. Fought so hard. And, for him... none of it happened. The bone-deep love and connection that had become so vital to both of you, was ripped away, and you were the only one left bleeding.
You don't notice the soft landing beside the window.
He just stares at you for a moment. He's overcome with the need to catch you up, hold you to him, and do whatever he has to do to fix it.
"It's important, isn't it," he says finally, quietly, "what I can't remember."
You gasp and stand up, clumsily, hands flying to your eyes and wiping pointlessly at tears as you turn away, "You shouldn't be here."
"See, I'm not so sure about that." He steps forward slowly, "because..." His eyes fall on a carved wooden rose, and he pauses. A craftsman can always recognize their work. His eyes begin to scan the dimly lit room around him.
No photographs, but all around him are little things made by his own hands, his favorite books and movies, this place doesn't just feel familiar. It feels like home. His eyes return to yours as he continues his approach.
You fall back against the wall as he advances, "Does Donnie know your here? You really shouldn't be out running around the city by yourself. You're still recovering, it's not... safe." Your breath hitches as your back hits drywall.
He takes your hand gently, holding it just like before, caressing the inside of your wrist. Your jaw clenches, and your eyes sting. As he invades your personal space, your body reacts on instinct, head tilting up, hand against his chest, and his responds, gripping your waist and pulling you into him, breathing in deeply a scent just on the edge of his memory.
"That's what I'm missing, isn't it," he asks softly, tears darkening the fabric around his eyes, "that's what this feeling is... love."
Your heart twists, and you can't breathe. You're trembling with loss and grief and you don't want him to stop.
"I love you," he says, almost in wonder, holding your gaze.
It's like a bullet to the chest and all the air rushes out of you. Tears stream freely from your eyes and you draw a shuddering breath. "You don't even know me," you say, and you swear you don't mean for it to come out as bitter as it does.
He flinches, stepping back, but not releasing your hand. The shame and guilt are instantaneous. None of this is his fault. You look down and away, unable to meet his amber eyes, "I- I'm sorry," you manage, "I-"
"You're wrong."
You look up through tears as he steps forward again, pulling you closer. A hand comes up and cups your cheek as the one around your waist tightens, and he looks down at you with an intensity you haven't seen in weeks.
"I may not know your face, or remember... anything about you, but..." His eyes close and his hand slides into your hair as he dips his head and touches his forehead to yours, "I remember... this," he continues breathlessly, gripping your hair gently, "I remember this feeling... Your skin... against mine. Your scent..."
It's there. He can feel it. Just beyond his reach. He's been grasping blindly. Needing you and not knowing why, needing to feel you under his hands, against him.
The hand at your waist slides to your lower back, pulling you closer. "Help me," he pleads, eyes shut tight, all focus trained on you, voice thick with hope and desperation, "please... help me remember."
Donatello's warnings burn to ash within your memory as his mouth claims yours in a searing kiss.
It's clumsy at first. Demanding. Desperate. Like a dance he doesn't quite remember the steps to. He holds too tightly, moves too stiffly, but you open to him anyway, and a warm wave of sunlight flows into him.
He was so cold. He's still so cold. He can't remember the truck but he can remember the cold. Seeping into him slowly. As time dragged on and his body heat waned he'd grown so tired so quickly. He could still feel it. Frost on his edges. He's tried everything. Heated blankets, hot showers, gallons of tea. He's been trying since he woke up, he just can't seem to get warm.
But where his skin touches yours, it's like holding the sun.
Your heat floods into him like warm, golden light. Like the dawn. Pouring into the deepest, coldest parts, and filling him completely with that feeling. Love. And there you are, beneath the melt. As vital and familiar as his own heartbeat.
His kiss softens, his hold becomes more sure, familiar. It takes you a moment, but you realize, between kisses, he's whispering, "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." He holds you the way he always has, and he kisses you the way he always has, and soon your crying too hard to kiss him back.
He holds you tight against him, pressing you against his chest, kissing your hair, apologizing over and over as if any of this is his fault. You cling to him desperately, afraid that if you let go it won't be real, that he'll forget you again. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, afraid that you'll be wrong, and you'll look up into his, and you'll find only questions.
His hold tightens and his eyes burn. He's angry. This is unacceptable. Unfair. He got played, and he was supposed to die in that truck. What the Oroku fuckers didn't count on, what they never count on, is you. You'd pressed yourself against him, sharing what little warmth you could. By the time the others found you, both of you were unconscious and hypothermic, but still alive, Raphael's large body wrapped tightly around yours. You'd kept his heart beating. Just like always.
He pulls back and attempts to raise your chin to meet his eyes. You resist. He can smell your fear, feel the pounding of your heart under his fingertips.
He rests his head against the side of yours and speaks your name softly, in the same voice that has pulled you peacefully from sleep a thousand times. Another sob escapes you and you curl into him tightly, before a few moments pass and you unfurl, your eyes raising to meet his.
The weight of his gaze settles on you and you never thought you could be grateful to see such depths of pain within him, but within the pain was... everything else. From the depths of despair to the heights of ecstasy, every moment of the last three years was a storm inside his eyes.
You can see the naked rage, swirling in the tempest, and it mirrors your own. Those responsible would be dealt with, later. Now, you reach back behind him, and he dips his head to make it easier for you to remove his mask. You toss it aside, and he presses his forehead to yours. You rest your hands on either side of his face, tracing the familiar scars, and you can feel his shuddering exhale.
"I love you."
"I love you."
"I'm sorry."
"Raphael-"
"I didn't mean to-" His breath catches on a sob, and you pull him tighter against you. Burying his head in your shoulder, he wraps his arms around your waist and breathes deep. If scent is the strongest sense tied to memory, he would bury himself in you. He would never forget again.
....
I know this isn't how amnesia works, okay??? I KNOW the plot here is swiss cheese!!! but it got stuck in my head and now you have to deal with it too, so there.
...
Tag list
@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins @sacred-holy-light @celeste-clearwater-06 @pheradream-15
@saspas-corner No U
You give off thunder vibes
*Liam Nelson Voice* I know who you are. I will find you, and I will fight you.
*hands on hips* There’s nothing subtle or epic about me, Broski. I’m literally the definition of loud and proud. That makes me lightning and aggressive sunshine. We’ve talked about this.
Currenly I am processing the utter UNFAIRNESS OF THE DUM DUMS WHO RUN NICKELODEON HOW DARE THEY TAKE AWAY MY SHOW WELL THEY CAN TAKE THEIR LITTLE DISGRACES OF SOMETIMES TERRIBLE CARTOONS- AND SHOVE IT RIGHT UP THEIR ASSES
*nods and reaches behind my chair to pull out a weighted blanket and throws it over your shoulder while handing you a warm cup of herbal tea*
Ridiculous right?! Instead they choose to air another season of SPONGEBOB of all things. Spongebob! Even after the creator specifically asked them not too!
They had at least 5 seasons in the works! We get jiffed with 1 and a half! All for the sake of dumb commercialism 🙄😤😭
Save Yourself
*waves sheepishly with a crooked grin*
Uh…howdy. Hi. Y’alls art been giving me the brain tickle all day today, hope it’s alright to return the favor.
So…uh enjoy? Original art by the incredibly talented: @rawcherrycake
(You seem cool Broski, love to be your fren)
Original character Rafid by the ever cryptic: @chessman-protocol
(Once again, ever the inspiration hon 🧡🙌🏼)
Music: Love + War by Kwabs
Editing programs: CapCut and Inshot
Just a little something I came up with while reading my scriptures today.
thanks for @saspas-corner for being my personal adviser in designing it 🧡☝🏼
Again, the healing hug I needed to see. Bless you 🙏🏼😖💙❤️
THeYrE bRoThErS aNd tHeY lOvE eAcH oThEr, Your Honor.
His bones may be broken, but his heart? So light
Can you tell ive been listening to this ost
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“If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things."Doing my best to make this blog a safe place for every kind of folks. Y'all are more than welcome here!🧡P.S. The only thing minor about meis my minor inferiority complex. But HAY, life like me, is growth in progress🤙🏼🌱
289 posts