They All Need Therapists

me having a new idea for a relatively short fic:

I love being Squingle Dinglus coded

NEVER get into anything thats heavy on color symbolism bro . for months you will not be able to look at the color blue without instantly thinking of Squingle Dinglus

IT HEEEE OH I LOVE HIM SO MUUUUCH

hoodieless hemo? hes never in a good mood without it LOL

The way I only use ellipses and the dash in dialogue, but then I am fighting every higher power there is about putting too many semicolons now that I know how they work. Commas are whatever, we love the stability of the comma <33

feeling called out today

credit: _ADWills

Rottmnt eyeball/side profile headcanons!!! :D

(Notes under the cut if you can’t read my handwriting lol)

1st picture:

Mikey: rounder, almost downturned, welcoming, soft, big eyes

Donnie: natural RBF 100%, almost always kinda closed, slanted/almost horizontal

Leo: very slanted, sharp, detail oriented, opposite of Mikey’s eyes, cat-like

Raph: horizontal, square shaped, lines under eyes from worrying, he’s just a big brother

2nd Picture:

Mikey: round, short, small snoot, round jawline

Raph: pointy, slanted (snoot), short (head), wide (head)

Donnie: big ol’ forehead, small snoot, tall head, sharp jawline

Leo: pointy, tall head, big ol’ mouth for yapping

Miscellaneous: Give my boys craniums!!! Space for brain!

4/6 Ichimatsu month!!

I am a few days late but here they are!! Thorns duo! Totty is getting blackmail teehee. blmatsu get outta here

Osomatsu san fandom here I come I hope you enjoy this it gets a little self indulgent somewhere in there but yea lesgo

I hate her.

Ichimatsu x reader, fluff? Angst? Background all matsus x reader, she/her pronouns, mention of a back scar

Word count: 454

°•.•°

You're asleep at the Matsuno's house, something about drinking with Osomatsu the night before. Ichi didn't care to remember. Maybe he didn't want to.

I hate her, he thought, slotting in perfectly right behind you where you were curled up. I hate her, as he wrapped his arms around your warmth. I hate her, as he buried his nose in the scent of your shampoo. I hate her, as his hands traced the waistband of your pants. Your soft skin and fluffy hair and gentle breaths pissed him off.

He especially hated how you allowed yourself to get wrapped up in their filth, because you'd have to leave. Ichimatsu knew that, and his heart twisted up like it would shatter with the tension, and he hated that the most. Why were you torturing him?

Why spend your time with the six scummiest people?

Why give Oso money when you have so little?

Why spend what little time off you have doing things his brothers liked?

Why push yourself until your energy ran so low that, even now, with his horrible aura and cold hands and exploring touch, you didn't wake?

God he couldn't fucking understand you. I hate her.

He froze when you squeaked, hands stilling on your ribcage. He was trash but he didn't dare go too far, because he couldn't lose this just yet. You, he could do without, but not the warmth. He hated how comfy you were.

You turned in his arms, now facing him with your closed eyes and pretty lips. Your hands were so warm against his chest, fingers curled but palm flat on his hoodie. Your back was a perfect expanse of skin beneath his touch, even the scar. It was like you had a seam, like you were literally made to be so perfect and couldn't hide it. I hate her.

He squeezed your sides, eyebrows cross, expression loathing, just until you told him to stop. He wanted to rip you to shreds. "Ichi, cut it out," you grumbled, and he quit. He hated that you knew it was him. Hated that this song and dance happened enough that it was routine. Hated that the others weren't so eager to cherish what they had every second that they had it, even this. Even the rest. He was the one that got to see every expression you made with closed eyes.

You wrapped your arms around him, and his irritation turned into steam, vanishing in the waves of your warmth. He wrapped his arms around you, too, tight but not squeezing. He could feel your breathing slow against his chest. He buried his face in your hair again, taking a deep breath.

Ichi sighed.

I hate her.

can i ask what lineart brush and software you used for ur latest post :-))

Hellooooo, i draw in IbisPaint and these are the brushes i usually use <3

4/5 Ichimatsu month !!!

I cleaned a rather ugly messy sketch I had for these two teehee. Kind of cosmic karma for how Ichi was holding that cat yesterday. I call these two cycle duo because after high school they kinda switched. blmatsu get outta here

Salveō! Would you be willing to take a writing request for a rise!Donnie x reader? (platonic pls!)

the storyline could be something along the lines of the reader eating one of Mikey’s food at dinner with the turtles and it being a bad texture. (For me, a big one is lumps in smooth substances. Like rice pudding.. *shudder*) Anyway, the reader gets overstimulated and shuts down, Donnie brings ‘em to his “sensory room” in the lab and gives pressurized hugs and back rubs until the reader is comfortable and regulated again.

I’m a sucker for autistic reader fics. There’s not enough of those :(

This seems adorable! I unfortunately don't get to the point of shutting/breaking down from bad food textures (though I do have foods I refuse to eat), but I'll try my best!

The Pudding

Word count: 546

°•.•°

Usually you loved dinner with the turtles. Sure, they could be loud and unruly, but somehow they didn't drain your social battery as much as other people did. Listening to the brothers fighting was entertaining, and they talked so much you didn't have to worry about finding something to say. Usually, you'd say it was one of your favorite activities, trying what Mikey decided to make.

Today, though, that couldn't be further from the truth. Dinner had been fine, one of the best Mikey has ever made, but you could feel the color drain from your face as he revealed a bowl for dessert. A lumpy pudding that you just knew you wouldn't like. You would have passed, but Mikey used his puppy dog eyes, and said something about it being something new he tried out. That's how you ended up with a small serving on your plate.

Raph and Leo ate most of it, saying the pudding tasted great, but for you it wasn't about the taste. Donnie had had some of his own, a smaller serving in comparison to his brothers, and he watched you watch the thing on your plate. Still, you steeled yourself and ate a few spoonfuls, ignoring the urge to gag. That'd be so rude. After maybe four bites you wanted to cry, physically unable to swallow the next spoonful but only feeling worse and worse with the texture just sitting in your mouth.

Suddenly Donnie pulled you up from your seat, walking you from the room just as the other three were about to start a food fight. With a three fingered hand on your back you entered the soft shell's lab, and your confusion got interrupted when a metallic claw offered you an empty garbage bin.

“Spit. I know you still haven't swallowed your last bite.”

Oh yeah.

You spit out the pudding and felt tears gather in your eyes.

Why couldn't you just be normal? Everything was great and you're being a baby over nothing.

The tiny garbage can had been placed elsewhere and you took the last couple steps into a room with low lighting. Brown noise seemed to be playing from hidden speakers around the room. You turned to Donnie, and of course he already had an answer.

“This is my Overstimulation Panic Room. When I get overwhelmed, I come in here and it helps.”

You nod, looking back around the room and wondering what exactly you should do to ride this out. It took a gentle touch to one of your arms for you to notice you were squeezing yourself.

“If you would like I could offer you some pressure in the form of a hug?”

Donnie rarely offered hugs; you found it very kind he'd do so just for your own little meltdown. With another nod he wrapped you in a hug and squeezed, his chin on your head. You could guess he was using those same metallic claws to do other things on his phone, but you wouldn't expect anything else. The buzz from the speakers let you focus on things other than your mind, sounding like wind, and the dim purple lighting meant your eyes could take a break from seeing so many colors.

You'd have to thank Donnie later, somehow.