puzzledcretin

[puzzledcretin]

I wrote a fic for my homie for crimmas so you should like read it or whatever...

@omagpies

[puzzledcretin]

They should kiss more /f

Gay doodles

[puzzledcretin]

Haha Jumpscare

Hi I don't know what possessed me but have a cute one shot with Leo.

[puzzledcretin]

Joyride

(Written for @tmnt-write-fight for @letsdeweythis)

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Prompt: Rise Splinter and April go on a father-daughter outing Word Count: 2,702

Read On AO3

“APRIL, IF YOU DO NOT STEP ON THE GAS YOU ARE GROUNDED!” Splinter shouted at the top of his lungs. 

The tires of the turtle tank bounced against the asphalt of the road. The entire vehicle jostled aggressively, but firm hands on the wheel held the old girl in place. 

“Oh, I know you are not trying to ground me right now. I am the one with a license-”

“I had my license!”

“Yeah! When you could reach the pedals!” April shouted back, turning her head to look at the rat in question. Splinter looked back at her, his eyes narrowing as he took in the hurled insult. “And you can’t ground me! I am not your baby, Splints!” 

April maintained her gaze on Splinter. His gaze turned forwards, his jaw seemed to clench. There was something in his expression that she couldn’t quite pick out, something that she could have sworn she had seen before. She just couldn’t place where. 

“Watch the traffic light!” Splinter suddenly yells, breaking April out of her stupor.

April jerked her head forward and shouted as she slammed her hand down on the bright pink button on the console. Her goal had been to lower the suspension to ride under the traffic light, but when the explosive sound of boosters fired off behind them, they both knew this wasn’t going to end well.

The tank accelerated rapidly, the windshield on a straight collision course. April gripped the steering wheel, in the corner of her vision she could see Splinter’s claws gripping the arm rests of his seat. 

The two screamed as they sped closer and closer-

-

“Hi, I’m April O’Neil, and you’re probably wondering how I got here.”

April moved to sit in front of her camera. She adjusted her glasses, looking down to the small note cards in her hands. They held the script she had so perfectly crafted, but as she looked up into the lens of the camera, she froze. 

This felt.. Entirely phony. Which was stupid, she was doing a silly little school assignment that asked her about the influences in her life. She wanted to talk about her parents. Her mother was a strong, passionate woman. She taught April to stand up in the face of trouble and kick until she couldn’t anymore. And her father was an extremely intelligent man, he encouraged her to excel in school and to chase every opportunity to the ends of the Earth if she wanted to. Her parents were shining beacons in her life- but they weren’t the only ones.

April’s mind drifted, she knew exactly who her life influences were. A bunch of slimy mutants in the sewers who she called friends for years at this point. They shaped her!

Raphael taught her to be strong and shout in the face of evil. 

Leonardo taught her to be confident, she believed she developed some of her quick wit from him. 

Donatello taught her.. A lot. There wasn’t much he didn’t tutor her on. But with all of that came with her love of knowledge and investigation. 

And Michelangelo taught her to have fun. Even if it was stressful, even if it was hard, she knew how to have fun.

Those were her influences. April groaned, pushing herself to lean back in her chair. She pulled her glasses off her face, wrapping her arm over her eyes. She breathed out slowly, trying to weigh her options for the time being. 

The assignment required voice recording or video recordings of an interview with a person who influenced you. Talk to them about it, ask them questions. 

This was a hard decision to make- and it was a dumb assignment. But she got up from her chair and walked out of her room. Her father was out of town for the week, some business related thing that she couldn’t recall off the top of her head. And her mother was working the night shift at the hospital. April could wait for her, but she wanted to get this out of the way. 

April grabbed her backpack and searched through it for a moment, digging around. She really needed to clean this out at some point, too many pencils and wadded up pieces of paper. Finally, she found what she was looking for. With careful hands, she pulled out the old voice recorder she had. It was old, but her dad had found it in a thrift shop on one of his trips and Donnie tricked it out for her. 

She tossed her bag back down to the floor and walked over to the door. April snagged her shoes and slipped them on as she left out the door. 

Fine, she would just interview one of the turtles! That’s fine, she’ll say they’re one of her cousins. It would be easy and then she could edit it all and send it in to her teachers. Easy peasy and she can start her weekend. She had a great show to catch up on and everyday she waited was another day she risked massive spoilers!

April tugged her jacket tighter around her body as she made her way down to the sewers. At this point of the night, she should be able to catch at least one of them! 

-

“What? Drax is taking us on a training retreat, we’re leaving right now,”

April’s eye twitched as she looked at the group of four turtles in front of her. Leo was grinning wide, a pair of bright blue goggles slapped over his eyes. They looked ridiculous with the plastic nose covering his snout. Tossed over his shoulder, he had a light blue towel to match. 

“You’re joking.” April stated flatly, adjusting her glasses as she tried to think. “You.. What do you mean you’re training? Since when do you leave to train?” She questioned, looking between the turtles.

Mikey grinned, adjusting the bright yellow floaties that were wrapped around his biceps, “Draxum is taking us to an underground river to train our swimming! You know, embrace the turtle, baby!”

“I would like to not embrace the turtle, actually. Dear, April, I will stay home and conduct the interview with you-” Donnie stepped away from his brothers, but then a large hand came down on his head and pulled him back, ignoring the indignant squawk that followed. 

“Sorry, Donnie. But you’ve got the best set of lungs out of all of us, little bro. You have to come with us.” Raph decided, moving his hand down to smack Donnie’s back. The soft shell stumbled forward, but caught himself with a huff. 

Mikey pulled out his phone as he heard the text tone chime, staring at the screen for a long moment. He squinted at it, “Okay.. Either Drax wants us to do our laundry or we gots to go. I am putting my money on the second one but we can never be too sure,” 

Leo rolled his eyes before pulling one of his katana from their sheaths. With a smooth twirl of his wrist, a bright blue portal formed beside them along with a small trickle of water that spilled from it. 

“I’m sorry, April. But it looks like we have to go. But! If you’re here when we get back, I am more than willing to show off my star potential,” Leo said as he flipped his mask tails over his shoulders. “Come on, guys, we have to hit the river!”

Leo leapt through the portal first, followed by Mikey and then Raph. Donnie stopped, grabbing April’s hand, “Don’t make me go with them, I’ll do anything. Do you want your laptop overclocked? I’ll do it! April please!” Three hands came out of the portal and yanked Donnie through it. The portal swirled for a moment longer before disappearing. 

April huffed, looking down at her now wet sneakers. Great, great! This was fantastic. April pushed her glasses up to rest on her head. She was ultimately screwed if she didn’t figure something out at this point. The young woman pulled her recorder out of her jacket pocket and looked down at it. 

“Dang it man… Now I have to go home,” She muttered and shoved it back into her pocket. 

“Young April!” 

April turned her head to the side and let out a sigh, “Hey Splints! I thought you’d be out training with goat man and the boys?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest. 

The mutated rat scoffed, swiping his hand over his old robe, “I will not have wet fur! Look at it, it’s far too nice,” Splinter said, pushing the fur along his head back. It used to be just gray, but the more April looked at it, the more she could see the white strands poking through. She remembered when she first met the man, he looked much different now. But, so did she. 

“What are you doing? It’s quite late,” Splinter inquired, though his eyes seemed to linger around the area in which the portal had disappeared from.  

“Nothing now! My evening plans just walked into the Hidden City along with your boys! I’m probably going to go home now, not much else I can do now,” She muttered, rubbing her chin slowly. 

“Hm.. Why don’t you join me on some errands! You have your license now, right?” Splinter asked, gesturing April to follow, 

“Well.. Yeah? Why do I need it?”

-

“And why did we have to come here?” April questioned as she looked at the old looking tea shop before her eyes. She flickered her gaze over to the elderly rat who was looking over a small list in his hands. 

“This is the one tea shop in New York that carries everything I want! Now, let’s go,” Splinter said as he got up from his seat. April cocked her head to the side but followed along, walking out of the turtle tank on his heels. 

The two walked up to the door and Splinter pulled a hood up over his head. April shoved her hands into her pocket as she walked through the door, looking around. Incense seemed to be on one side of the store while small artifacts lay in cases. It was bizarre. 

“Splints, I’ve worked in 75% of all retail stores in this city but I have never heard of this one,” She muttered.

“That’s because this is a family store, no need for employees when they have family!” Splinter barked out a laugh at his own joke as he walked over to the counter. An old man looked down from his newspaper, looked Splinter over before scoffing. 

“We have nothing for you here, go now.” The man ordered, flicking his newspaper to straighten out the pages. April arched her eyebrow further, eyes shifting from Splinter to the man behind the counter over and over. Splinter’s body seemed to tense, but he puffed out his chest and placed his hands on his hips. “Well! I am sure that’s just simply not true. Now if I can pick up my order-”

“Beat it, Yoshi.” The man glared over his newspaper, “You come in here all the time and say you will pay next time, but you never pay. Your account is closed until your debt is paid. Now go.”

April let out a long sigh, reaching behind her to pull her wallet out of her back pocket. 

“No, April-”

“How much is this debt?” April asked as she stepped up to the counter. Her thumb pressed against her debit card, nail scraping against it. 

The man behind the counter seemed to only grow more agitated, slamming the newspaper closed as he pulled his feet from the counter. He set the folded up paper on the counter so he could face April properly. 

“1,783 dollars and 42 cents,” 

April’s eye twitched, slowly turning her head to look at Splinter, who was very pointedly looking away from him. 

“Hey, Splints,”

“Yes, April?”

“Why, of all things, do you have a severe tea debt?” 

April’s question was met with a very long silence, followed by the man behind the counter scoffing once again and leaning back in his seat. 

“I knew it,” He muttered, picking up the newspaper once again. April closed her wallet, stuffing it back into her pocket before she turned on her heel. 

“Well, looks like we’re going home, Splints. Come on,” April called, stuffing her hands in her hoodie pockets as she walked to the door. She rolled her neck, pushing open the door as she pulled the tank keys out of her pocket.

“HEY!”

“Run April!” 

Suddenly, the short rat sped out the door before April could and she turned her head behind her to see the man behind the counter on the phone, pulling a weapon that April couldn’t identify.

She very quickly sped out the door, slamming it behind her as she raced up onto the tank. 

“What did you do!” April shouted as she got into the driver's seat, looking over at Splinter. Sat in his lap, was a small box of expensive looking tea. 

“You stole something!”

“Now is not the time-”

“No, now seems like the perfect time to talk about my sudden accompanying of your crimes! What were you thinking??” April questioned. Splinter’s eyebrows drew together and he seemed conflicted. April rolled her wrist, trying to urge an answer out of the man and right as he finally opened his mouth, the tank shook violently. 

“What??” April questioned as she looked at the monitor. On the back up cam, she saw three cars, one of which had crashed into the rear of the tank. “Oh Donnie is not going to be happy about that…”

“Drive!”

-

And that’s basically where we left off, let’s get back to that, shall we?

As the two sped towards the traffic light, April yanked her hands off the wheel in order to cover her face. Splinter looked up at her, his eyes widening before he reached over and yanked on the steering wheel. He jerked the tank to the right, speeding it down into a parking garage. 

April pulled her head up as the entire tank seemed to tilt to the left, just in time to see Splinter slam his foot down onto the brakes. The tank squealed loudly followed by complete silence as Splinter twisted the key in the ignition. 

April jerked her head around to look over her shoulder behind her, the three cars that had been chasing them sped on past the entrance to the garage. 

“What.. What were you thinking!!” April shouted as she looked to Splinter. Splinter moved to sit back in his seat, his thumb brushing over the lid of the tea box. Once again, April’s words were met with silence, Splinter was staring at the small box and April couldn’t read the text that was on it, it was all in Japanese. Unfortunately, her Duolingo lessons would not be helping her this time. 

“Splints..”

“You looked sad,”

“What?”

Splinter finally turned his head to look up at April, “You looked sad. That the boys were leaving. I understand, being left behind. It’s not the same, I know, but I understand. And I didn’t want you to be left behind. My plan was to get this fancy tea and some popcorn and we could watch some movies. But, I understand if you want to go home,” Splinter spoke softly. 

April stared for a long moment. She.. Well, she had no words for this. But she did know that Splinter was an idiot. 

“You stole tea for me?” 

“Of course, I’d steal tea for any of my children,”

April couldn’t help but tear up just a little, reaching up to wipe her eye from under her glasses. She settled back in her seat some, tapping her fingers along the armrest of her chair. Splinter, as crazy as he was, was possibly the most unorthodox in his kindness, but it was kindness nonetheless. 

Slowly, she pulled the recorder from her pocket one final time and looked down at it, running her thumb over the five dots where the microphone laid. 

“Actually… Would you be interested in doing an interview for me?”

[puzzledcretin]

Dad said I'm grounded, wanna stay for pizza?

(written for @tmnt-write-fight for @nights-flying-fox)

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Prompt: Hop visiting your au!! Hop is the Dimension Hopper Leo AU Leo btw :3 I wanna see him interact with your sillies!! Hop masterpost Word Count: 1,455

Read On AO3

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Mass. I can’t bring you down to the Hidden City. Your dad said no. Now, I would love to bring you down to the city, you know that, but I really can’t do it.” 

Massy frowned as a large hand came down on his head. He huffed, looking up at his Uncle Leo. Leo gave him a sideways grin, a mix of pity and something else. 

“I don’t want to just.. Sit around and do nothing,” Massy muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his beanbag. Tossed around the floor was a bunch of Leo’s old comic books, they had been searching through them before for some storyline Massy remembered when he was little. But then Leo’s phone rang, and it seemed important.

“I’m sorry, Messy! You know what your dad said, you are grounded for a month following your little dimension hopping incident. Let me tell you, your dad is a hard-”

“I’m a what?” Mikey questioned as he stepped past Leo, carrying a laundry basket. 

“You are a delight to this family and we all love you,” Leo responded, grabbing the knot of Massy’s mask. He jerked it to the side, covering up Massy’s eyes. Mikey scoffed lightly, but he smiled, waving his brother out. 

Leo shrugged, “Sorry, kid. Maybe next time.” The slider gave a half hearted salute before he dipped out the doorway of Massy’s room. 

Mikey shook his head, looking down at his son. He set the laundry basket down on Massy’s bed, looking to his son, “You better make your bed, got it? It’s nasty to sleep on mattresses without a sheet.”

“Dad..” Massy groaned, pulling the mask off his head as he looked up at his father. 

“I know, I know. Spoons and what not, but I’m telling you that it would be more comfortable if you used sheets. And your bed would stink less,” Mikey explained as walked over to Massy. He crouched down, licking his thumb before he started to wipe something off of Massy’s cheek.

“Guh- Dad, come on, please?” Massy turned his head away, trying to push Mikey’s hands away. 

“Fine! Fine, I will leave you alone. I get it, you’re a big boy now-” “I’m a teenager..”

“Yes, I know that. You will never let me forget it. But you were my baby boy once upon a time so let me have this, okay?” Mikey leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Massy’s forehead. Massy groaned, but a smile settled on his lips anyways. Mikey smiled, lightly poking Massy’s snout as he pushed himself back up to his feet. 

“Uncle Raph is bringing pizza home from Casey’s hockey game, are you going to join us or do you want me to bring you a slice?” Mikey questioned, cocking his head to the side. 

“No, no, I’ll join you. Now leave me alone.” Massy said dramatically. Mikey laughed, shaking his head once again as he turned on his heel 

“Make your bed!” Mikey called as he walked out of the room, leaving his son back in his room. 

Massy let out a soft sigh, pushing himself up from the beanbag. His fingers fidgeted with the fabric between his fingers. Massy pulled the mask up onto his head, playing with the tails. The comics were still spread out across the carpet, he needed to pick them all up before he got told to clean his room after making his bed. 

The young turtle started to pluck them all up one by one, setting them on the desk. As he was gathering them up, the telltale woosh of a portal appeared behind him and Massy turned quickly with a grin. 

He knew Leo would come back! Leo knew that Massy was able to hold his own, he would bring Massy along and-

Massy paused as he looked down to see a very familiar version of his uncle on his floor. The blue scarf was pulled up over his head, but Massy could recognize it clearly enough.

“... You come for more ice, Hop?”

“Massy!” The turtle on the floor very quickly pushed himself up onto his feet. He swayed a moment but then grinned, putting his hands on his hips. “Huh.. Actually, I didn’t mean to show up here…”

Hop stepped forward, looking down at the comics on Massy’s desk.

“Oh!! Oh, oh yes. I haven’t seen this one in a hot minute!” Hop shouted as he pulled the comic off the desk. He flipped it open, looking through all the panels with a small grin.

Massy cocked his head to the side, crossing his arms, “You know that one?” Massy asked curiously, sifting through the comics for a moment before he pulled out another one. 

“Do you know this one?” Massy asked, passing it over. Hop lifted his head and looked over at the comic. 

“Uh.. Yeah, yeah! I know that one. I never got to read how it ended because it was all burned up…” Hop muttered, setting the comic in his hands to the side and grabbing the one from Massy’s hands. 

Massy hummed, the gears in his head starting to turn. His own uncle was once a dimension hopping turtle, and he said he sometimes brought back souvenirs. But his uncle says he hasn’t been out of this dimension since before Massy was born. 

“... So, what have you been up to?” Massy asked as he moved to sit on his desk. Hop pulled his nose from the comic and grinned up at Massy. 

“Me? Oh you know, what I’ve always been doing. I have found tons of other versions of me, though. We are kind of making a family thing. I keep telling them that we should swing by and pick you up, but honestly, your dad’s light show kind of freaked us out and kidnapping is not a charge I want on my rap sheet.” Hop explained, rolling his wrist. 

“A family? .. Huh. Well, yeah, I shouldn’t really be joining any extracurriculars right now. I am grounded,” Massy explained, resting his chin on his palm. 

“Yeah.. I mean, I want to say that I can’t believe it but I don’t know, I probably will be on some kind of house arrest when I get home too.” Hop noted, but then he shrugged his shoulders, “What have you been up to?”

Massy looked down at his desk, “Oh uh.. Not much, really. I mean, I’ve been writing letters to everyone but I realized I had to idea how I was going to send them,” Massy explained, picking up a stack of envelopes from his desk. “Other than that, I’ve been doing chores. And school, really. Not the most exciting life.”

“Delivery? I’m great at delivery! Hand it over,” Hop snagged the letters, “Do I have one in here?” 

“You? Yeah, of course. It should be the blue one near the body, I color coded them,” Massy gestured to the stack. 

Hop let out a small ‘ooooh’ before tucking them away in his fanny pack. He did pause to pull his own letter out, tucking that in a separate pocket.

“I’ll get to delivering them ASAP! And maybe I’ll come back with some. I’ll be an interdimensional postman!” Hop grinned as he turned back to his portal. Massy’s eyes widened, a frown coming to his expression as he realized Hop was leaving. 

“You’re leaving already?” He asked softly, cocking his head to the side. Hop seemed to hesitate.

“I mean.. Yeah? I don’t mean to bombard your living space, you know? So, I’m going to head out..” Hop explained, gesturing back to his portal. 

“Massy! Raph is home with the pizza, come on!” 

Massy lifted his head, somewhat startled by his father’s voice coming from the kitchen, “One moment!” He shouted back. His hands fidgeted against the fabric on his arms. He let out a sigh, thinking for a long moment before he looked to Hop, “Join us for pizza? Come on, you’re like, the only friend I’ve spoken to since everything happened.”

Hop’s eyes lit up, setting the comic down on the desk. “Um.. Am I allowed? I don’t know if a version of me is going to appreciate uh… Me.” Hop gestured to himself, though he did glance over at the door. 

“Hm.. I say you’re allowed. My family loves strays,” Massy joked as he pushed himself off the desk. Massy pushed his door open, gesturing for his friend to walk through. 

Hop looked from the door to Massy, then back. He seemed to consider for a moment before he grinned and very quickly bounced through the door. Massy laughed some, following behind.

Luckily, his uncle bought a lot of pizza.

[puzzledcretin]

Mystic Mojo

(written for @tmnt-write-fight for @eyesoftheholder)

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Prompt: (Post ROTMNT movie) An exploration into Mikey’s mystic powers and the possibilities that come with it. Word Count: 2,376

Read On AO3

The sun was still high up in the sky, though it was angled toward the west. In an hour or two, it would be beyond the horizon and out of reach. For now, the golden glow cascaded among the blades of grass. 

It was warm here. Wherever here was. 

Among the tall blades of grass, some just as tall as the young turtle as he sat amongst them, were flowers. Sprinkled in clusters, wild flowers blotted the green all around him. An array of reds that faded into purples that faded into blues. Spread out as far as the eye could see. The flowers stood out, ranging from the smallest buds to the largest petals. None of them seemed to be particularly the same species, all unique, all different. 

Fox tail ferns disrupted the usual monotony around him, along with bushes and clusters of wheat. 

Despite the warmth radiating down on him, it smelled like rain. It smelled fresh, like life itself was bursting forth from the buried roots of the Earth. It flourished through the plants, dancing around in the wind. The wind itself sang a song, calling out to everything that was graced with its presence. Brushing against every surface as a reminder of  “I am here, I am here,”

So was he, wasn’t he? Here in this field. Away from everything that ever bothered him. 

He sucked a deep breath in, taking the wind into his heart. Nothing more than a brief detour, bringing life in just to breathe out a part of himself. It joins the wind, flying away into the sky and melding with the dust and leaves that tumbled along the breeze.

His gaze turns downwards, away from the unyielding rays of the sun. 

Stones and pebbles, clusters of dirt, maybe some bugs that were on their way home from a long day of.. Being bugs. But instead of your usual ground activity, there were glowing orange cracks in the Earth. They shined, almost as bright as the sun itself. And it wasn’t stagnant. It shimmered, it shifted. Much like the wind, it danced along to its own song.

His hands came down to touch it, but as he did, those glowing orange cracks suddenly burst up along his arms. They flared, angry and dangerous. The deep lines buried themselves deep into his flesh. Pain followed, sharp pains as his skin was ripped apart before his very eyes. Flakes broke off from the edges, burning up into ashes as they rose up into the air around him. 

The particles floated around him, they almost looked beautiful. Like thousands of fireflies, they circled his head. His eyes widened. With some effort, the turtle tried to pull his arms away from the ground. The urge to touch these small particles- pieces of himself- was just too much to ignore. But, his hands were gone. Merged into the same energy that burned the ground. 

The embers around him grew brighter and brighter, heat searing his skin. Then, before he could gather his bearings and figure out what was happening, the embers shot out in every direction. Their range was impressive, falling down into the blades of grass to hide from view.

Like sparks among dry brush, there was no way to stop the eruption of flames that occurred in that beautiful field. And the flames weren’t small, they towered up amongst the grass. It tore apart every blade, every petal, every leaf and threw them all up into the air to mix their ashes with the cascade of debris. Thick, dark gray clouds covered the sky. The warmth of the sun was blocked out, replacing everything with the cruel heat of the flames. Smoke filled his lungs in an instant, suffocated him with unrelenting plumes as the flames consumed the wildlife around him. 

“Wait- Wait, stop! Stop it!” 

His words echoed back to him, bouncing around his fiery chamber. They loomed over him, repeating over and over.

Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!

The cracks along his arms crawled higher and higher. He looked down, watching the trenches engulf more and more of his skin. It ate him, throwing up embers. The embers flew through the flames. He didn’t know where they were going. But beyond these walls, he wondered how much of the field survived. 

Tears streamed down his cheeks. Trails tracked along his face, innocent expressions of fear and remorse that stood contrast to the world around him. He choked on the smoke, his body bending forward as the golden glow attacked his shoulders. He coughed, trying to force it back out. 

Slowly, heat built up in his throat. A wretched burn worked its way up to his mouth, it settled on his tongue and ate away at the saliva that accumulated there. 

His lip trembled, the last barrier between him and whatever lies beneath. 

For the first time since he entered this hell, he wished he could go home. He craved the soft, pillowy feeling of being surrounded by his family. Lines ran deep into his body, searing him from the inside out. But he grit his teeth, clamps down.

Silently, he begged for forgiveness. 

The world wouldn’t know, and he believes they would never know, that this was his fault. He was going to burn up and disappear, destroying everything in his wake. 

And yet, and yet. All he could imagine was his brothers. His sister. His fathers. He hoped they were safe, far away from all of this. He could imagine them now, laughing in the lair. They were oblivious, they were having fun. He could imagine what they’d say. 

“I wonder where he is.”

“I wonder if he’s coming home soon.”“I wonder if he’ll bring home pizza.”

A grin cracked at his lips. The stretch of his lips split the flesh. Beneath it, the same orange glow that corrupted the rest of his body. He clamped down with his jaw, breathing through his nose as the cracks started to spread across his face. 

He couldn’t hold on, he wasn’t strong enough.

“I’m sorry..”

The cracks exploded across his body as he finally let go. Flames rushed along the dry grass in order to join their origin once again. He screamed as he gave in, his body pulling apart at the seams. 

Mikey woke up with a choked gasp. He coughed, rolling onto his side in his hammock in an attempt to clear his throat from the spit that attacked him. 

He pushed himself up. Trembles raked through his body, the aftershocks of the earthquake that rocked his very core. His hand moved up to lay against his plastron. With the hard plate between him and his heart, he couldn’t feel his heart racing with his hand. But he could hear the pounding in his ears. 

That dream felt too realistic, phantoms of all the burns prickled around his body. His eyes flickered down to his hands, expecting to see the eerie orange glow. But all he saw were the light colored scars that still haunted him. But that was it, he was safe. 

Mikey fell back into his hammock, looking up at the ceiling of his room. He tracked the bright colors that formed circles and spirals. He let out a slow breath, his lungs deflating in his body. 

He laid there for an hour. His mind was slowly reeling with the memories of a dream that were burned in. Usually, dreams would fade away. No shackles to hold you in a single place, no trap to keep you stuck in bed. But this was fresh and powerful. 

Eventually, Mikey pulled himself up to his feet. 

The young turtle had a lot he wanted to get done today, especially after Leo came back with some new canvases. They were unused, but not completely clean. Spatters and stains along the bright white fabric. It was imperfect, but Mikey could see the inspiration.

So, the teen was set about getting all his other tasks done. He buried himself in what he had to do. He had originally planned on making something small like cereal for breakfast, but it felt too fast. A full meal was in order then, pancakes and bacon and juice and toast and scrambled eggs. 

Then, he took his focus onto the dishes. Donnie had built a dishwasher, he could be using it, but instead he took to hand washing them. And well, it would be rude to just leave them drying on the counter, so he dried them too. Then, since the job was already two thirds of the way done, he put the dishes away too. 

Mikey was on his way back to his room when Raph pulled him aside and asked if he were interested in sparring at all. How could he say no to that? Clearly, he couldn’t. He focused on the fight intently, filling his head on which strike or duck he was going to do next. It was almost a blur, what happened. 

In fact, a lot of it was a blur. 

Yes, Mikey knew he did things. He knew he made breakfast, he knew he had washed and put away all the dishes, he knew he had sparred with Raph. 

And yet, if you had asked him any specifics, he would draw blanks. His mind was busy. 

So, despite his brother's calls to join him in the living room to play games, Mikey found himself walking to the small corridor where he kept most of his art supplies. It used to all be in his room, but when they were cleaning up the lair after the Kraang’s failed invasion, Mikey had moved a lot of it to what he called his studio. 

He had outgrown the space, he had claimed. He was a blossoming artist who needed to spread his wings. 

As he walked into his space, the familiar scent of disinfectant and paint filled his nostrils. The walls had been cleaned recently and his paints were all scattered about. His acrylics, his pastels, and his oils. Mikey moved to sit in the center of the room. He gathered up some nearby supplies and stared down at his blank canvas. 

With a deep breath, he got to work. Recently, he has been working with a lot of abstract concepts. Colors in broad strokes across a canvas, pushing expression into nothing and everything all at the same time. One of his last paintings was a real whirlwind of color. He chose greens, blues, reds, purples, and oranges. All sharp lines, all bouncing along the surface, but aimed down towards the cluster of pink and gray at the bottom. 

Mikey proudly hung that one up on the wall, he had named it To Rise Above. 

This painting, however, was proving to be rather difficult. Mikey let his heart guide his hands, reds and oranges and yellows force themselves onto the page. Sharp angles that erupt from soft curves, contradictions in forms. There was chaos erupting on this canvas, all surrounding a little black blob in the middle with two glowing orange eyes. 

Mikey paused as he took a step back to process what he saw. 

Just like his dream, he was surrounded by fire. 

His hearing tunneled, his eyes unfocused. He dropped his brush to the floor, the orange paint splattered lazily against the concrete. 

“I see,”

Mikey jerked himself back to reality, turning his gaze up behind him to catch Draxum standing behind him. The goat man had his hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe, eyebrows drawn tight together but his focus was on the canvas. 

“Tell me, Michelangelo, what does this depict.” Draxum asked, using his foot to lightly push Mikey’s paint palette out of the way before slowly sinking to sit criss cross beside him. 

“It..” Mikey’s expression tightened for a moment. His dream  had been a vision of terror, it felt too real to be just a dream. It almost felt like a calling, a promise of what was in store for him. 

A purple clawed hand came to rest on his shoulder, his thumb brushing against the tension that laid beneath the surface. 

“I had a dream last night.. That I did this..” Mikey spoke softly, letting the canvas drop to the ground. His head fell into his hands, smearing colors against his face. “I guess it’s just sticking with me… I remember how it felt and it.. That energy felt a lot like when I used my mystic mojo to open up that portal,”

He shook his head, laughing softly, “But that’s stupid, why would I feel like that? I can make portals, portals shouldn’t make fires like that,”

Draxum hummed in response, “No, they shouldn’t,” He responded, pulling his hands into his lap, “Meditate with me, Michelangelo,”

Mikey looked up at Draxum for a moment, watched as the elder closed his eyes and straightened his posture. The young turtle followed suit, folding his hands over his lap as he felt his eyes close. 

“You have very powerful abilities, Michelangelo. Very unpredictable abilities. I’m sure they scare you, do they not?” Draxum questioned. 

Mikey stayed silent for a long moment, before nodding stiffly, “It hurt.. A lot. Making that portal.” Mikey’s fingers brushed against one of the old scars, “I don’t want to hurt anyone else, not like that. But I don’t know how..” 

Silence grows between them. Mikey wonders if he’s said something wrong. Is there a chance he said something wrong? Surely so. He was a monster for even considering that he would have the ability to hurt someone. He was going to destroy the world-

“I know. Strong abilities are a blessing, but they can only become that with extensive training. With exercises that hone your energy into something productive, not destructive. You have nothing to fear, Michelangelo. You just need a helping hand.” Draxum responded, “I know, I had fears of my own once.”

Draxum’s hand fell back onto Mikey’s shoulder, lightly tugging the turtle to face him. Mikey opened his eyes to find his more recent father figure offering a reassuring smile that looked just.. So out of place. Mikey managed a smile of his own in response.

“You’re going to be extraordinary, Michelangelo. Just have confidence,”

[puzzledcretin]

Sunflower

(written for @tmnt-write-fight for @tigerthespahget )

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Prompt: Sunflower duo (ROTTMNT Mikey & Miles Morales’ SpiderMan) Word Count: 3,360

Read On AO3

“Needless to say, I’m keeping her in check. She was a bad-bad, nevertheless. Callin’ it quits now, baby. I’m a wreck. Crash at my place, baby, you’re a wreck.”

Mikey sprinted across the rooftops of New York City. Keeping to the shadows, much like he had been taught as a child. His feet stayed light on the half walls, avoiding the patches of gravel. Originally, he had come up to the city to tag some walls downtown. Slowly, Mikey was trying to make a name for himself above ground.

Sure, his art was well known underground. However, he was starting to lose faith in his brother’s opinions. Could you blame him? He loved his brothers, more than anything in the world, but they were his brothers! They did not have to love all of his work, and he was sure there were certain pieces that they didn’t care for, but they were obligated to at least pretend. 

But on the surface? On the surface, there was opportunity! People from all walks of life and not the narrow, suffocating view of the sewers. People could see his work and he could get new, fresher opinions. 

At first, he wasn’t sure how he was going to do it. Despite everything that happened, being friendly with humans was still somewhat frowned upon by his brothers. It was.. Weird. They had plenty of human or human adjacent friends, but there was something about remaining hidden that seemed so important for their survival. He understood why, but it made making friends one of the most difficult tasks in the entire world. 

That is why Mikey got himself a fancy new phone (needed it after dropping it off the empire state building, don’t ask) and signed up for social media! Because that couldn’t go wrong, could it?

AngelofNewYork Lvl 16, Sagittarius I put the razz in razzamatazz! Posts: 140 Followers: 11 Following: 248

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly popping off the way he was hoping it would. But! That was fine! Because on occasion, he will see his graffiti popping off on other accounts. The tag #graffitiofnewyork, #graffitiphotography, and #artistsinnewyork were all some of his favorites to patrol. People didn’t know they were his but he loved seeing other people take pictures of his work.

It wasn’t like.. All good, you know? Yeah, a lot of the time he saw people praising his work. It looked cool, it meant this or that. Everyone had an opinion, but it seemed like lately he was seeing more and more criticism than he was used to. 

“Whose toddler stole the paint cans”

“Y r the shit artists anon??”

“F”

“This is fuckign vandelism! Arrest this dejenerat!”

… Yeah. And that was fine, he could get over that. Trolls were not something that typically got under his skin, not really. But what does get under his skin is seeing other artists on the scene. Ones who see his art and criticize it to hell and back.

And he gets it. He gets it! Not everyone is going to like his art. Sometimes, Mikey didn’t even like his own art. But it is a disappointment, it does cause him to drag his feet when it comes to the next project. 

Mikey grinned beneath his mask. It was an orange respirator, something to protect his lungs from the paint particles. Raph and Leo mandated it, Donnie built it. Such is most of the equipment that winds up in his hands. 

Along his waist, Mikey had an array of colors hooked along a belt. Ah!! Yes, his belt. It matched his respirator, bright orange with a butt ton of colors sprayed over it! It was the best way he found to transport his paints but!! It served a double purpose! Mikey was dipping his toes in the fashion pools, and that meant extravagant fashions and unique pieces!

All of which meant nothing to someone trying to remain incognito. So, unfortunately, Mikey was in dull, dark colors. He was wearing cargo pants and a hoodie. Both of which really were not very fashion forward but they hid the whole turtle thing, so it was working. But, we digress. This is not about fashion, though it could be, it is about art! Not that fashion isn’t art but-

Art. Mikey’s art. 

The young turtle leapt down from the rooftop, falling into a roll as his momentum carried him through it. He paused as he stood in front of the midtown tunnel entrance. Cars were passing slowly but at this time of night, they were either too busy trying to get home or onto some of their own seedy business to care about what some kid was doing.

If Mikey were a better kid, he’d investigate more. But right now he wasn’t a hero. 

He slowly walked into the tunnel, his hands pushed deep into his pockets as he walked deeper. The lights were a hazy orange-yellow, and Mikey was quietly noting to himself that his beautiful golden spray would not be useful in this light, but in his secret spot it would stand out. As he walked deeper into the tunnel, the sounds became amplified around him. The distant sounds of cars bounced off the walls and soaked into his skin. His walking turned to bouncing as he grew closer to his ideal spot. A maintenance door around a quarter of the way through. Mikey had scoped it out a while ago, it was the perfect place to put up a tag. As he came up on the door, Mikey pulled it open with ease and squeezed his way inside. He made sure to shut the door behind him, looking at the large room that was opened up to him. 

Right across from him, a large cement wall stood clear. He’d have to be worried about drippage but other than that? There was a large crack that settled diagonally. It ran from the upper left all the way down to the lower right, it was clear cut. 

It was the perfect canvas. 

Mikey pulled the first can out of his belt, shaking it violently. The small metal ball clattered against the sides over and over until Mikey felt the pigment within was mixed enough. With a pinch of his fingers, the cap popped off and clattered off to the side of the room, to be forgotten.

Then, he got to work. 

Today, Mikey had a personal goal. He was going to paint some of the sickest birds you have ever seen in your entire life. Mikey pulled out his crumpled up sketchbook paper as he got close to the wall, testing a spray or two before he started his outline. He was using a dark gray, something to be covered up later. 

And on went the layers, slowly but surely. Mikey loved spray painting, it made his brain go outside the box rather than stay inside its constrictions. He had to really focus on what was going where. But that’s why he was using a template. 

Time seemed to stop existing in that room, Mikey didn’t know how long he was down there. But he did know that, eventually, he came to a point where he was pleased with what he had done. He took a huge step back, letting the golden can drop to his side as he observed the scene right before him. Golden doves flying out of the crack in the wall, strong and powerful against the dull concrete. Mikey grinned, his hands moving to his hips. 

“Thinkin' in a bad way, losin' your grip. Screamin' at my face, baby, don't trip. Someone took a big L, don't know how that felt. Lookin' at you sideways, party on tilt.”

Mikey pulled out his phone, angling it as best he could to get the doves all in at once. As his finger hovered over the capture button, light appeared at the corner of his vision. 

Something strong was coming, that’s all Mikey knew, but he didn’t have time to react before a dark mass shot out of the light source and crashed into him. His phone went flying off in some distant direction, a flash of its own and the distinct shutter of the camera app were the only indications that it was still functional. 

Mikey tumbled to the floor, groaning as his own arm smacked him across the face. Had he been hit with a missile? Is that what happened?

Mikey slowly lifted his head up from the floor when he heard a groan that mirrored his own. 

“Leo..?”

“Whose Leo?”

The two figures froze as they stared at each other. Mikey.. Did not recognize this person. Their mask- At least he hoped it was a mask- was black with a spiderweb pattern. Eyes rimmed with a red fabric.

“Who are you??” Mikey questioned, very quick to leap up to his feet. The other figure pushed himself up, holding both his hands up quickly. Mikey felt the itch in his palms, the need to pull his weapon out and defend himself from this stranger. Especially because he could see some kind of device smoking from his wrist.

“It’s okay! I’m Spider-Man!” The stranger shouted, causing Mikey to cock his head to the side. 

“Spider-Man?? Who is that??” He questioned. 

The figure’s arms seemed to falter for a moment, his own head cocking to the opposite side. “You.. You don’t know who Spider-Man is? You know, webslinging hero of New York? Actually- Are we in New York City? Does New York exist?? Am I in Fallout??” 

Mikey blinked slowly at the figure, trying to figure out what this guy was babbling about. A.. A hero? Like in a comic book? He feels like he should be surprised, he really should. But somehow, compared to everything else, this somehow just seemed to make sense to him. Mikey didn’t understand the Fallout bit- but then he remembered his respirator. 

“Oh! No! No, no! I was just painting, no nuclear fallout at all!” Mikey shouted as he reached up and pulled his mask off without thinking. “See? Completely normal!”

“... You’re a turtle,” The stranger said slowly, his eyes turning into slits. Mikey looked down at mask then back up at them. 

“Okay, so not normal! But everyone else is! .. You aren’t panicking.” Mikey noted, his own eyebrows drawing together. 

“Well, no.. I mean, you are pretty weird- No offense! But uh.. I’ve seen a lot of weird stuff through my travels..” Their hand moved up to rub at the back of their neck.

“Travels…?”

Their eyes shot open, then they shook their head. “Isn’t it actually your turn to tell me something about you? Like uh, your name?”

“I’m Michelangelo, but everyone just calls me Mikey!” The turtle responded, holding his hand out, “I guess it’s nice to meet you… Spider-Man?”

“Gah- You know what? Call me Miles,” 

And just like that, the stranger had a name. 

Miles reached out, smacking his hand against Mikey’s. As if the two had done it thousands of times before, their fingers curled around each other in a secret handshake. The two stared at their hands for a long moment before Mikey pulled back first. Had they met somewhere before? Likely not, but Mikey couldn’t help but grin at this immediate connection. Maybe, they could be friends. 

“So, um, do you come through portals often?” Mikey questioned, leaning over to the side to look behind Miles. But the area around him was void of any light from before. Miles looked over his shoulder.

“Huh? Oh! No, not really. I mean, I do on occasion, yeah, but usually I try to stay home. You know, not trying to get in trouble. I just uh.. I guess the villain, his name is Electro..? Well, he fried this watch my friend gave me and.. Now I’m here.” Miles said, gesturing to the smoking device on his wrist. 

“... Can you get home..?” Mikey questioned, placing his hands on his hips. Miles’ eyes widened and he very quickly pulled the watch before his eyes, tapping at the screen as it flickered rapidly. “No.. No! Come on..” Miles muttered, brushing his hand against his face. 

“I.. Well, I can, but also I can’t. Here if I just..” Miles pressed the button on the side of the watch, listening to it chime for a moment. “That should give my location to my friend.. She can come get me, but until then..” 

Miles looked around, “You said you were painting?” 

Mikey’s grin slowly turned full blast as he saw the golden opportunity. He grabbed Miles’ wrist, pulling him the few feet he needed to just to turn the hero in the right direction to see it. 

“Oh, yo!” Miles’ eyes went ride as he crossed the space to come up to the wall. “This is sick, man! I love incorporating the environment around me into the piece, it feels like it really shows love to the canvas, you know?”

Mikey was quick to move up next to him, clapping his hands together, “Yeah! Yeah, ohmigosh, yeah. Wow. I am so glad that you understand, I feel like no one gets it around here!” 

“What? How can people not get it! I swear, art is dead,” Miles complained, crossing his arms over his chest. But he looked over to Mikey. He had no mouth but the little artist could see the smile that laid beneath the mask through his eyes alone. 

“I don’t think it’s dead, it’s just learning. You gotta respect the process,” Mikey noted as he pulled one of the cans from his belt, tossing it over to Mile, “Do you paint?”

Miles caught the can, looking it over for a moment. Ruby red, how appropriate. “Do I paint? All the time. Sometimes when you’re patrolling the streets, you have way too much free time on your hands. Mind if I tag a wall?”

Mikey mulled it over, looking at the space around him- He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have this entire room planned out head to toe. But then he let out a small hum. “Actually, please do. Then I have something to remember you by when you inevitably have to go home,”

Miles seemed to light up at that, shaking his can as he extended his arm out. With a sharp THWIP! A web shot out from his wrist and connected to the ceiling. Miles pulled himself up with it, finding a spot up by the ceiling. “I figure I’ll take over this spot up here where a land turtle like you can’t reach,” Miles teased, looking over his shoulder smugly as he started to spray the wall. 

“Don’t be too sure about that, spider! I may look grounded but I am as free as they come!” Mikey called back, but he refrained from showing off. Instead, he grabbed his own golden can of paint from the ground and moved to stand below Miles. In sync, the two started to paint. 

Mikey put his name in tag, sharp curves but sharper points. Large and proud! With it, he placed one of his signatures. A golden turtle shell- Kind of on the nose, he knows. But at this point, being subtle has not gotten him the results he has wanted.

Alternatively, Miles did much the same. In a bright red, he wrote “Miles” onto the wall. But he was less controlled- No, not less controlled at all. He was deliberate in where he let the paint build up. The drips of the paint rolled down the cement with practiced ease. Mikey admired that. While he was trying so hard to control his paints to make them look nice and proper, but this style was fun and unique!

 The two chatted as they worked, Miles talked about his life- Apparently he was a student and a hero at the same time. Mikey didn’t understand how he did it, Mikey could barely be a hero some days! But Mikey got to talk about his brothers some, he learned that Miles didn’t have any. That was wild! But April didn’t have siblings either so it wasn’t too wild. 

Instead, Miles had an infinite amount of himself out there to bond with. Mikey remembered listening to Donnie once upon a time, how the multiverse would allow for anything to be possible as long as it could be conceived. That meant, there were infinite versions of Miles. That also meant there were infinite versions of himself out there as well. 

But! That’s why Miles was here! Because he was able to travel to these universes. That’s how he met his friend Gwen!

“Yeah! And my friend, Peter, he showed me how to do all this cool stuff! He’s kind of like.. Well, you said your dad was your sensei? He’s kind of like mine,” Miles explained. 

Mikey grinned, “Oh yeah? That’s pretty cool! Maybe one day a version of me will come out of a portal and teach me how to be a cool hero,” he pondered, tapping his chin.

“Yeah? Well if he does, figure out how to come visit me.” Miles grinned. 

Mikey went to open his mouth, but as he did, that light came back. Mikey got a good look at it now. It was bright with various boxes glitching in and out of it. Like a comic tearing apart at the seams! It was cool!

But, that also means that Miles has to go. 

Miles sighs, dropping down to the ground before the portal, turning to face Mikey. “This is my ride..”

Mikey sighed, holding his hand out, “Come visit again, you here? We have an entire room to fill.”

Miles’ hand smacked into his, but instead of leaving it at a handshake, he pulled Mikey in for a hug. “I’ll be back before you know it, promise.” Miles smirked, stepping back from the hug. “Good luck, Mikey.”

Miles stepped through the portal, and Mikey stared at it until it disappeared. He stopped, looking around. There were so many cans everywhere. With a sigh, he gathered them all up. It was nearing morning, he needed to go home. Mikey almost left without his phone! Almost, of course. Because he did hear his text tone right as he was about to leave the room. He rushed over to the side of the room to pick it up. 

Delightfully, the screen wasn’t cracked at all. Donnie had said it could survive a 50 foot drop, and the small ten feet it flew was only a fraction of that. He moved to the center of the room, framing his golden doves once again in the middle of the screen. Mikey stuck his tongue out as he focused in and.. Snap! 

Mikey grinned, tapping the small photo icon to view his masterpiece. 

He paused, however, as he looked down at the small photo that was next up in the preview. He swiped his finger to the right and he couldn’t stop himself from breaking out into laughter.

On his phone screen, a photo of Miles and him both falling to the ground. Miles was flying with a bit more momentum than Mikey was, but both of their eyes were comically wide. He didn’t even realize his phone had captured this moment.

He left it alone, tucking his phone into his pocket as he once again left for the door. 

A week later, Mikey would come back. An image wouldn’t leave his mind, something that felt important enough to brand the room with. On the wall of that maintenance room in the tunnel, he recreated the portal where Miles disappeared. He made the comic boxes, the Ben-Day dots, he even tossed in a spider emblem or two. He didn’t know if Miles would come back, he certainly hoped so. Mikey needed more friends who could understand the things he like. 

Miles didn’t have to come back, he had left enough of an impression on the young artist, but if he did? Mikey had a spray can with his name on it waiting.

“Or you'll be left in the dust, unless I stuck by ya. You're the sunflower.

You're the sunflower.”

[puzzledcretin]

A Letter from Me to Me

(written for @tmnt-write-fight for @butchmellohi)

Fandom: The Last Ronin (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) Prompt: In character letter to another character or even to a past or future self (open ended, any iteration) Word Count: 535

Read on AO3

Dear Michelangelo,

You are a tough kid. 

You are a terrifying kid.

You are a powerful, naturally talented, gift of a kid.

But out of all these sentences, Michelangelo, there’s one word in common.

You are just a kid.

My god… I look at you and I can not believe how small we used to be. I look in the mirror and I struggle to convince myself that we are one in the same. You look like you could still light up any room you walk into, you look like you still carry that spark. And here I am, having become one with the shadows and reflecting back on my life and who I used to be. 

But I lost that, a long time ago, I lost that spark in you. That spark that makes everything, everything, feel like a game. Or at the very least makes it feel like a game that we have an actual shot at winning. 

I can not lie to you, Michelangelo, at some point it feels like you get stuck in a repetitive game loop where we can not progress because of our action. And there’s no check points, there’s no respawn. We can’t reload an old save. 

Heh, guess I’m not completely devoid of old fun references, huh?

My point is: I am not you. Once upon a time, we shared a name, we shared a face, we shared a mind. But I hope, for everything in this world, that I look like a complete stranger to you. And I hope that you will never have to see my face ever again.

And.. Only now do I realize I have not actually introduced myself to you, though I am pretty certain that my identity is crystal clear. 

My name used to be Michelangelo, much like you. I used to be a kid like you. But things in my life got messy. I got messy. And I lost any right to call myself that. Michelangelo loves fun, Michelangelo never stops smiling, and Michelangelo has a family to support him. 

You can call me Ronin, it’s.. It’s easier that way. 

One day, you may be faced with the same set of choices that I have had to make. I hope for the sake of your sanity that you will never have to face what I have had to face. But if you do, it is vital that you understand that you can’t just give up. It seems easy. You want to just lie down and take whatever the world is cruel enough to give you, but you can’t. 

It’s a sick joke, but you’ll learn rather quickly that there is no escape. You’ll take the beatings, you’ll take the pain, but there won’t be an end until you bring honor to your family. 

And it isn’t fair. I know it isn’t. But that is why I am writing to you. Because I was the Michelangelo who won. And if I can give you any advice to help you succeed better than I did, I will give it to you. 

Remember, the world will beat you down. But you just have to stand back up. 

Stand up, Michelangelo.

A stranger,  Ronin

[puzzledcretin]

It Was Years Ago

(Written for @tmnt-write-fight for @phoebepheebsphibs)

Sorry if you were expecting another iteration, I have Ronin on the brain

Fandom: The Last Ronin (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) Prompt: "When was the last time we did this?" Word Count: 1,271

Read On AO3

“When was the last time we did this?”

The words caught Ronin off guard. All his years of training, all his paranoia, he was still unable to tell when April was sneaking around. She was more of a ninja than he ever was, or he simply let his guard down. Either way, he slowly turned to find the graying redhead standing in the doorway of the torn apart kitchen. 

Ronin hummed, his fingers pinching the small dial of the stove to turn the gas on. 

“When was the last time I was in New York?” He questioned. 

April laughed, weakly, but she laughed. Ronin used to be really good at reading people, emotions were a second language that he knew by heart. The softness of someone else’s feelings, they were smudged and smeared across the pages of his life. 

And yet, as he looked at his old friend, he took note of the wrinkles along her face. Despite the new language barrier, he knew those marks were not made by age alone. 

Ronin focused on sifting through the nearby cabinet for the box of matches he had spotted earlier. For being a bunch of scraps, there were so many damn dishes. Not to mention the darkness, but that was more Ronin’s fault. Trying to avoid the aching in his head that would only be worsened by light. The light and also the low buzzing that came along with old fluorescent lights. 

“I.. Don’t actually know when you were last in New York. I remember I woke up and I was so busy.. I didn’t know where exactly you were. But everyone else was dead, why wouldn’t you be?” April responded as she pushed off the doorframe. She pulled a match from her pocket, swiping it against Ronin’s shell to light it. She held it down to the burner, the flame flickering for a moment or two before catching light. 

“... It’s been over fifteen years since I’ve been..” Ronin’s throat constricts. His body physically rejecting the idea of admitting after all these years-

“Home?” April asks as she plucked the kettle full of water from the sink and placed it on the burner. 

His lips tighten, his neck stiff as he nodded in response. 

Home was always a silly way to put it. Home wasn’t New York, home wasn’t the sewers where he was raised, home wasn’t even in the book he carried around. 

Home died all the way back then when his brothers did, when his father did. When Casey and April..

Ronin paused to look at April. She seemed oblivious to his turmoil, or pretended to be. She made her way over to one of the few cabinets that had doors, pulling down two mugs and a box of old tea bags. Old, yeah, but not old enough that Ronin would recognize them. 

His home was long gone, but as he stood here and watched his old friend move around this kitchen that certainly felt familiar. But, he couldn’t be sure if it actually was or if the sewer was just ingrained enough in his mind. Much like the flame on the stove, seeing April.. Home flickered back to life. Slowly, like a fire deprived of oxygen. 

“So, the last time we did this was over fifteen years ago. Seems like we are due for some time together, don’t you think, Mikey?” April grinned, moving to bump her shoulder against Ronin’s.

“Don’t.. Don’t call me that,” Ronin responded, holding his hand up to lightly push her back for a moment. 

April’s grin faltered, her eyebrows drawing up in concern. Ronin’s eyes stayed focused on the kettle. A watched pot never boils, but he’s witnessed enough impossibilities throughout his long, long life to place a bet that it would be fine. 

“So, you’re abandoning your name?”

It’s a voice that’s been haunting him, one of three. Ronin’s fists clenched at his sides. 

“Seems like he is. I’m not surprised, he’s always had a flair for the dramatics.”

Another voice chimes in, rougher than the first. But he ignores it, has to. Feeding into these voices would be counterproductive to the reality he was trying to engage in now. 

“Well, if you aren’t Mikey, then I guess we’ve never done this before at all. I mean, I’ve never met Ronin before now.” April bounced back, smirking at the large turtle. She leaned back against the stove, along the side where the burner didn’t work anymore. 

“April, that’s not what I’m saying. I just.. How do I associate with that name?” Ronin questioned, lifting his gaze to finally look at April. She stared into his eyes, and with that fierce determination that she always had, she didn’t back down. Gosh, how he missed her. Missed this. 

The last time they did this- Making tea in the kitchen, having a conversation- Ronin was just a child. He was still trying to figure out his place in this world. Was he doing the right thing? Was fighting the route he wanted to take in the future?

And she looked at him then as she looked at him now. Without question, without fear. 

“With confidence.” April filled in his blanks. “You are Hamato Michelangelo. Son of Hamato Yoshi. And you have a mission to carry your family name to the end, do you not?”

“I will bring an end to the Foot Clan, in the name of my family.” Ronin responded, his eyebrows coming together, “But I ran away. I hid. Like a coward, I tried… I dishonored them.” 

As if sensing the tension, the kettle on the stove squealed with steam shooting up from the neck. April shot Ronin a look as she grabbed the kettle handle, bringing it over to the two mugs. 

“You were getting stronger, you couldn’t have done that here. Not with what was going on.” April stated, “What you did was rather smart,”

April gestured for Ronin to move to the small table. Four chairs surrounding a small wooden table that looked like he needed some work. In the center, a medium sized candle burned. Ronin lumbered over, sitting down heavily in the wooden chair. It creaked under his weight, but despite the new strain, it stayed fully intact. 

“It wasn’t by choice, April..” Ronin muttered, his elbows resting on the table. He hung his head, eyes tracing one of the cracks that ran along the grain of the wood. 

“Oh? It wasn’t?” 

April brought the mugs over to the table, pushing the black mug under Ronin’s nose before she moved to sit right next to him. She stirred the tea bag in the hot water for a moment.

“So, someone forced you to train?” April questioned.

“No-”

“Someone held you prisoner and made you get stronger?”

“I mean kind of-”

“Someone made you get all bulky?”

“April! April, I get it, okay? I just.. I feel like I let them down.” Ronin answered. He lifts his head, hands coming around the warm mug. But he stared at the liquid as color slowly seeped out of the bag. “I worry I let them down.”

“No, I know your brothers. I know your father. You’ve only ever made them proud.” April decided. “You’ve made me proud.”

Silence hung between them, the flame of the candle bouncing around on the wick. But the silence was warm, it was familiar. And truly? It felt like home. 

“... The last time we did this was over fifteen years ago,” Mikey spoke softly, leaning over to rest his head on April’s shoulder. 

“How the years fly by,” April responded, bringing her mug up to her lips.

[puzzledcretin]

An Arm Up on the Competition

(written for @tmnt-write-fight for @sad-leon)

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Prompt: ROTTMNT: Leo dealing with post-movie permanent injuries (arm or leg loss, eyesight or heading damage, ect.) and getting comfort and support from his family. Word Count: 1677

Read on AO3

Once upon a time, not too long ago, Casey Jr. told him a story of a great leader. 

This great leader was over seven feet tall, he wore his heart on his sleeve. Everyone looked up to his wit. A joke on the tip of his tongue, no matter the situation. His brother, heh, his brother was a literal fireball. Bouncing around the battlefield. But the great leader was considered a light in the grim, dark future. A beacon of hope that made the daunting task of survival seem doable. Casey even went into great detail about the night that they held karaoke. 

Despite the chaos and fear that ravaged their homes, their families, they had a night where everything was forgotten and they were all able to laugh together. And isn’t that a wild thing to hear? He would have assumed that everything was too serious to have fun. But, you know, when has he ever been right?

And this leader was a great fighter. He took on the Kraang with bared teeth and a fury unlike any others. A determination to correct the mistakes of his past and redeem himself. To forgive himself. It’s a noble enough task. His sword, chipped and worn, was a symbol in and of itself. Wrapped with the masks of his fallen brother, he carried their spirits on with him. 

Oh yeah, and that’s part of it. This leader lost his brothers. Such a thought brought aches and pains through his own heart. Having to continue on without his brothers seemed to be nightmarish. It haunted him, and it wasn’t even his own trauma. But even after losing member after member of his family, the leader just kept on leading. He kept on grinning. He kept on. He seemed to be unstoppable, impenetrable, unshakable-

But there was one key factor that Leo had over this clearly superior leader, and that was his right arm.. Sort of. 

Leo lay on his front, his bed was nearly empty of anything it used to have. Pillows, blankets, even the very few stuffed animals that belonged to him were pulled from the surface and piled up on the beanbag in the corner. His comic books that had once littered his sheets were now neatly stacked over on his desk. 

He was still recovering- He did what that great leader could never do and he beat the Kraang. Leo looked that chewed up wad of gum masquerading as a transformer in the eyes and he grinned. Even as he was broken and battered, he grinned. 

Isn’t that funny?

Of course, that didn’t mean he won without consequences. 

Cracks ran up along his shell. Donnie had scanned over it, and had shown him the x-rays. His brother, bless his heart, had told him that it wasn’t as bad as they expected. With certain courses of treatment, they could repair this damage. But Leo knew better. Hidden under his bed, deep in the back corner, Leo had a small medical textbook. It was meant for humans, so it wasn’t a one to one comparison, but it taught him just how fragile the spine and spinal cord could be. Spinal injuries were a bitch to heal. 

And guess what the shell was?

Leo knew better than to get his hopes up. While he could get better, he would never be the same. Evidence lay within his right arm. 

Yep, that’s right. Leo still had his right arm. He was staring at it, the appendage lay along the mattress beside him. Though, the only reason he knew that was because it was laying right in front of his eyes. Other than that, he couldn’t feel a thing. He couldn’t move it, he couldn’t grasp anything with it. It might as well have been amputated. 

Leo tried to move it many times, his mind telling him that it was moving. But his eyes weren’t liars. 

Luckily, his arm was the only part of him that lost function. The rest of his body was still badly damaged, pain was an inevitability when it came to these types of injuries, but his arm was the worst. 

“Leo!!”

The warm, cheery voice cuts through his own murky silence. Leo lifts his head, angling it upward to see his youngest brother standing in the doorway to his room. Mikey held a small plate in his hands, a small stack of taquitos. The smell of food filled his nostrils and Leo could cry from how hungry he was. 

“I know, I know. I got distracted. But when I came to give you food earlier, you were asleep! Even you preach that rest is important,” Mikey laughed softly as he made his way over to the bed. Hooking his foot around the leg of a nearby chair, the box turtle pulled it closer in order to plop down on it. 

Mikey wore a smile on his face, seeming to be at peace. But as he sits down, Leo spots it. The unavoidable shaking of Mikey’s arms. His brother was quick to set the plate down, crossing his arms over his thighs in order to lean forward. He’s hiding. 

Leo’s eyes focused on the plate next, and it was nothing special. Everything was clear as day to Leo, however. Mikey, despite his own pains and struggles, brought Leo food. Mikey was forced to take care of his older brother even though he was hurting. 

And Leo couldn’t move his own fucking arm. 

Leo’s eyes actually brimmed with tears this time. He let out a rough laugh, and then he couldn’t stop laughing. The jostling of his chest jabbed pain over and over into his shell. 

“Leo?? H-Hey, that’s not good for your injuries-” Mikey tried, but Leo couldn’t stop. He pressed his cheek into the mattress, his face starting to turn red as he kept laughing. He was barely able to suck in a breath between his own hysterics. 

A hand was laid across the back of his neck, but his mind barely focused on that. Here he was, getting fed fucking taquitos by his younger brother. He knew recovery took months, years even. And yet it was so fucking impossible to imagine himself a week from now, a month from now. How was he supposed to live like this? Who was he supposed to lead when he couldn’t even pull himself up from his own bed? 

He won the battle, he won and banished Kraang to an eternity of absolute nothing. Yet why was he the one given the life sentence! Leo’s eyes opened somewhat, observing his own arm once again. 

He was useless to his family, he was a liability. 

Leo’s eyes latched onto movement beyond his arm, the plate moving up above his head. Voices filled his ears, but he wasn’t able to discern what they were saying. They seemed so far away and so loud, so jumbled together. 

His throat started to ache, his laughter turning hoarse. His eyes fell closed, trying to focus on the wet fabric against his cheek. Carefully, the bed dipped on his left side. A rough, callused hand grabbed onto his left arm, squeezing the appendage carefully and the strong scent of metal filled his nostrils. He recognized this presence. 

“Donnie…” He rasped out, receiving a low hum in response as his twin’s thumb brushed along his skin. The relief it brought him was immeasurable. But then on his right side, the bed dipped again. This time it was more than before, tipping the bed just barely to the side. But a clawed hand came up to wipe away Leo’s tears. 

“We’re here for you, bro.. No matter what..” Raph’s voice cut through the clutter in his head. 

Slowly, Leo opened his eyes to spot his older brother. Bandages were wrapped around his right eye. But he smiled, his little snaggletooth glinting in the low light of his room. On his shell, protected by a blanket, Mikey sat on it. Leo felt his cackling come to an end, replaced instead by the sudden and desperate need for air. 

“You’re okay, Leo! Just take a deep breath!” Mikey called, reaching down to pat Leo’s head. The slider slowly calmed, his ravaged breaths turning into simple inhales and exhales. 

“I’m sorry.. I’m sorry…” Leo muttered, but his body relaxed into the hands. The presence of his brothers was more than enough to calm him down. 

“Sorry? What did you do?” Donnie questioned, his tone flat but not devoid of care. 

“I let you down, I let everyone down. I’m not going to be able to lead the team anymore, I can’t even be part of the team. I’m useless..” Leo admitted, his eyebrows pulling together in frustration. 

“Hm.. Are you sure about that?” Donnie sassed back, causing Leo to lift his head just enough to glare at Donnie. 

He was used to bickering, picking, biting. He was used to it. But Donnie was taking it too far. That smug smirk on his stupid, dumb face made his fists clench. 

Mikey giggled on his other side, followed by Raph’s shushing. “Be nice, stop laughing-”

“What is so goddamn funny about me being paralyzed? Likely permanently??” Leo barked out, looking between his brothers. 

The door to his room opened and footsteps followed as April came in with a mug of.. Coffee? Leo looked to her, trying to pull his most pathetic face. But her eyes were wide, a smile coming to her face and he knew he was betrayed once again-

“Look at you! I didn’t realize you could close your fist again!”

Leo froze, his own face turning into a mirror of shock. Slowly, his eyes shifted down to look at his right arm. 

There, laying on the mattress, with no feeling. It was like it wasn’t even there… But his fist was closed. It was shaking, struggling to keep itself from falling open again, but it was moving. 

“Still giving up, fearless leader?” Donnie questioned. 

Leo’s grin grew, wobbly and just as stable as his fist. 

“Not a chance, Dee.”

[puzzledcretin]

Name: Cheese

~●○°●○°●○~ Likes: Comfort, fluff, angst. Fav turtle usually Donnie. Squicks: I am sure I have them but I really cannot recall atm, but if you have any doubts/concerns, don't hesitate to dm me! Favorite Iteration(s): The Last Ronin, IDW, ROTTMNT

~●○°●○°●○~ Prompt #1 [tmntstorycomp AU] Hamato Masaccio spends time with (Dad/Mikey, Uncle, or Grandpa/Splinter) Prompt #2 [IDW] Leonardo has been struggling with the thoughts in his head. He’s trying to sort through reality and fiction, but he doesn’t know what’s real. He decides to go on a trip to clear his head. What happens? Prompt #3 [ROTTMNT] Slumber Party. Could be angsty, could be fluffy, could be both or could be neither. Let them have fun. Prompt #4 [The Last Ronin] Ronin meets the 2nd gen turtles. Either A. Grateful the legacy lives on, B. Horrified these innocent kids were raised just to fight, or C. A secret third thing Prompt #5 [Your choice] They’ve won! Everything is over, the bad guy is defeated! So, why is there only three of them? ~●○°●○°●○~

[puzzledcretin]

Grandfather's Hero

Remember how I said Massy was extremely close with his grandfather? :3

Sometimes, at night, Massy would wake up without any reason. Usually, he would sleep through the night. He would be wrapped up safe in his bed, safe and sound. But like all minds, sometimes his liked to play little tricks on him. That’s how the young turtle found himself sitting up in bed. Sweat covered his body and tears brimmed his eyes as they threatened to spill. 

Massy didn’t remember his dream. Nothing was visual enough to point out, to describe what monster was haunting his young mind. There were no sounds, no little whispers that raised goosebumps along his arms. 

All he could recall was the feeling. His heart felt tired from how hard it was pumping, his lungs ached from his heavy breathing. Fear, he knew what that was. These nightmares weren’t uncommon in his small little life. There was always a hidden something in the back of his mind that kept trying to make itself known. A lingering figure that he couldn’t remember that haunted him and dragged him back to that place once again. 

The young mutant pulled his knees to his chest, soft sobs escaping his throat. Massy’s fingers trembled as he pulled his comfort blanket up around his shoulders. He was scared and he couldn’t even find the threat, he didn’t even know if there was a real threat. 

Usually, dad would rationalize with him. “Dinosaurs are extinct, how could one chase you, baby?” But how do you rationalize the unknown? It was too much, too much for him at least, but dad would know. Dad always had the answers.

His eyes flickered over to the door to his room, his small hand coming up to rub the tears from his chubby cheeks. The light filtered in from the hallway, low enough to not disturb the darkness of the room but enough to banish away the monsters. Dad is just down the hall, his door is always open. 

Massy slowly pushed himself off the bed, dragging his small orange blanket along with him. His small feet lightly patted against the floor, crossing the dark obstacle course of scattered books and toys. The small child slipped through the crack of the door and found himself in the low light of the hall. 

He could hear the soft sound of a TV down towards the living room, but Massy turned the other way. He stayed close to the wall, following the small crack that led the way down to the tunnel entrance. Saying his dad’s door was always open was incorrect, because that implied that his father even had a door. Nope! Nothing but a long, maroon curtain hung over the circular door frame. 

Massy’s small hand reached out, grabbing the curtain to pull it aside in order to pull the fabric aside. He peeked around- Usually at least a small candle would be burning over beside the bed. His dad always said he didn’t like the dark. Massy didn’t either. 

But the room was dark. Empty. Devoid of any life and simply just his father’s belongings. 

This.. Was new. 

Not unexpected, but still new. 

Dad said he was going to start paw trolling at night with his brothers again, he said that papa Splinter would be watching him at night but he wouldn’t even notice. Massy would be asleep, he clearly wouldn’t know his father left. 

Massy trembled, his fingers gripping the curtain fabric. His tears started to roll again and he fell down onto his rear, legs splaying out in front of him as a loud wail ripped from his throat.

He wanted his dad. This wasn’t fair! He needed his father and he wasn’t there! He was gone! It hurt, almost physically. His feelings were so big but his body was just so small. How was he supposed to contain it all?

Quick footsteps rushed down the hallway behind him, followed by ragged panting. 

“Young Masaccio, what in heaven's name are you doing out of bed?” A voice panicked as it got closer, clawed hands coming out to carefully grab his arms. 

Massy is lifted up from the ground, his arms wrapping around the furry body as he sobbed. Short, unfulfilling breaths become muffled. His voice reduced to nothing but nonsensical babbling as he tried to get his feelings out.

“Young one, I cannot understand you when you are in hysterics,” 

Massy pulled his head away to look up at his papa, the rat looking back with concern. 

“You do not have to speak, just move your head, do you understand?” Splinter asked softly. 

Massy nodded his head, sniffling. 

“Okay.. Now, are you hurt? Boo boos?” Splinter asked, and as he did, his eyes started to track over the child’s body for any obvious sign of injury. 

Massy quickly shook his head, then he turned his head back to the door, pointing to the curtain that had now fallen back down into its normal position. 

“Oh, do you miss your father?” 

Massy whined, nodding his head. Splinter hummed thoughtfully as he started to walk. He kept the child on his hip, his clawed fingers lightly rubbing the carapace. Massy’s eyes stayed locked onto the curtain. Even as Splinter turned the corner and it fell out of view. 

His arms tightened around Splinter, the coarse fur pressing into his face. His eyes squeezed shut, hiding him from the world. Splinter moved to sit in his old recliner- and it was old. Dad once told him that it was older than dirt. Massy didn’t know how old dirt was, but it seemed like a lot. 

“You know where your father is, right?” Splinter asked as he settled in. He pushed the turtle away, just enough so Massy couldn’t hide anymore. 

“Daddy said he was paw trolling…” Massy muttered as his body curled up against the arm of the chair. His tears started to dry, but the pout stayed stagnant on his face as Splinter started to laugh. 

“I believe you mean patrolling, young one!” Splinter barked out between laughs, shaking his head, “Patrolling means he’s out looking for trouble. He’s out there trying to stop the bad guys.” 

Massy lifted his head from the armchair with confusion. His previous fears were set aside for the moment as he looked up at his grandfather. 

“Like.. Like a superhero..?”

“Not like, he is a superhero!”

Massy’s eyes widened. He knew about superheroes. Recently, it’s become a habit to lay on Uncle Leo’s shell and look at the cool pictures in his comic books. Usually, Uncle Leo would read the words to him. 

But his dad? His dad? How could he not know??

“Is that why he is always sp.. Sparring..?” Massy questioned. 

He knew his dad and uncles enjoyed playing rough together. They would go into the dojo- Where Massy was not allowed to go- and would fight each other. 

Dad always said it was for fun! 

“Yes, I raised your father and his siblings from a young age to fight battles. To protect themselves, to protect others.” Splinter explained. Massy stared at him for a long moment, the gears in his mind starting to turn slowly. 

“And daddy is good at fighting..” Massy muttered. 

“Your father is a natural,” Splinter responded. 

Massy frowned some, his arms crossing over his chest. His fingers fiddled with the light blue fins that contrasted heavily against his darkened green skin.

Dad always felt so safe, and maybe that’s why. Maybe because he’s a superhero. Massy’s gaze turned down to his hands.

“... I wish I was strong like daddy..” Massy admitted softly. Instead of being scared and hiding, he could beat up the scary things! He could keep himself safe, he wouldn’t have to wait for his dad to come save him. Wouldn’t have to waste the time. 

“You could be,”

“WHAT?”

Suddenly, Massy pushed himself into Splinter’s face. His bright yellow eyes staring up at the elder. Splinter’s eyes widened, chuckling softly as he gently pushed his grandson back once again.

“Did you not hear the part where I said I raised your father?” Splinter questioned. With careful hands, he lifted the child off his lap and gently dropped him to the floor. Massy stumbled for a moment, but caught himself before he could fall. 

“If I raised your father to be a fighter, I’m certain I can train you as well. Come with me,” Splinter gestured with his hand as he pushed himself off the recliner. The chair creaked as it rocked back and forth with the loss of weight. 

Splinter started to walk down another hall- One that Massy rarely ventured down. Once, Massy was allowed to bring cookies to Uncle Donnie as they worked on the giant turtle tank. But he knew further down the hall was the Dojo. He was not allowed down there…

But sometimes he snuck on down and watched his family sparring. He remembers peeking through the curtain and watching the flash of colors. Orange, red, blue, and purple. All dashing through his vision with a speed he couldn’t even imagine for himself. 

One day, he would be just like them. 

But that meant taking the first steps. Massy raced down the hall after his grandfather, his blanket left on the chair and a bright grin gleaming from his teeth. He pushed past Splinter in order to push the old, rickety shoji doors to reveal the large dojo. 

He ran to the center of the room, his feet slapping against the hardwood floor. The lights clicked on as Splinter entered and Massy’s eyes widened with delight. Weapons lined the walls, mats were rolled up and out of the way. Big humanoid dolls were placed sporadically, not fully cleaned up since the last they were used. 

Splinter made his way to the center of the room, cracking his knuckles. 

“Let’s start with something simple, try to land a hit on me,” Splinter said as he placed his hands on his hips. Massy’s eyes widened as he looked up at the rat. Immediately he pulled his hands to his chest, fidgeting with the small digits. 

“Daddy said hitting is bad-”

“Hitting is bad, which is why you need to learn when it is appropriate. Such as, when I instruct you to hit me,” Splinter stated. 

Massy’s brow ridge scrunched up before he held his arm back. With an open palm, he swung his arm out wide to the side, smacking his hand down on Splinter’s stomach. The rat didn’t even flinch, in fact, he seemed disappointed. 

“Now, what was that?” Splinter asked as Massy pouted. 

“I hit you.”

“No, you flailed. Here’s how you really throw a punch..”

And just like that, Splinter walked over to one of the large dummies and through a punch. His form was loose, but his feet were planted. His movements followed the motion. Massy cocked his head to the side- But it seemed to be the superior method. The mannequin flew across the room and slammed into the wall, teetering on its pedestal for a moment before it crashed down to the floor. 

Massy’s eyes widened, then his hands started to flap quickly as he bounced up and down. 

He raced up to another one, planted his feet on the floor, and threw a punch. There was a small thud, but the dummy was still stagnant in one spot. In contrast, Massy was sprawled out on the floor. He had tried to be fluid- But he ended up just throwing himself to the ground. He looked to Splinter with worry, but the rat just laughed. 

He laughed, and Massy followed along with his own bubbly giggles. He pushed himself up from the ground. 

That’s how their night continued. They were just working on punches, and not even a fancy punch like Massy had seen Uncle Raph do once upon a time. 

Massy was laughing, his fears beforehand were long since forgotten as his mind focused on this. This punch, that punch, a swing and a miss, a tumble, a scraped knee. 

The once empty dojo was filled to the brim with thuds and laughter and encouragement. And he was learning quite fast. He wasn’t hitting like Papa Splinter was, he couldn’t slam a dummy back towards the other side of the room. 

But he could hit them, he could make them teeter. Splinter said it was fine, he was just a kid. This was his first time hitting anything! And Massy trusted that. Especially because Papa was so old! Massy found himself growing tired, but once again, he found himself standing in front of Splinter. 

“Try to land a hit on me,” Splinter instructed. 

Massy found himself planting his feet once again, his knees bent as he focused on his target. His fist clenched and he shot forward, flowing with the motion of his swing and landing a solid punch in Splinter’s gut. 

The elderly rat grunted, curling forward as his arms wrapped around his abdomen. 

Massy’s eyes widened and he retracted his hands quickly, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry-”

Splinter lifted his hand up and shook his head. He lifted his head to smirk at Massy. 

“That was a great hit, Young Masaccio,” Splinter stated, slowly straightening back up. His hand landed on Massy’s head, “You’ll be a great fighter..”

Massy beamed, bouncing on his feet. 

“Massy?!”

The shoji door suddenly slammed open and Massy turned his head to see his father, his chest rising and falling quickly as he panted. 

“Daddy!” Massy shouted as he turned on his heel and raced over to his father. Mikey was quick to cross the floor and scoop his son up into his arms, holding him close. Close up, Massy could smell smoke along his father’s cloak. Looking down at the fringes, noting the burnt up ends. 

“What are you doing in here? You know you’re not allowed,” Mikey said as his hand cupped Massy’s cheek. Massy grinned. 

“Papa was teaching me to be a hero just like you!” 

And Mikey’s eyes widened. 

Massy didn’t like that look. He didn’t have the words to describe it, but he did know that his stomach sank. Mikey slowly looked to Splinter, who didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest. 

“Massy, go back to your room,” Mikey said softly, slowly letting his son back to the ground. Massy hesitated, looking up at Mikey. 

“But dad-”

“I will be there soon to tuck you in, Massy, please. I need to talk to your grandfather.” 

Massy slowly turned his head to shoot Splinter a glance. The rat nodded his head, and Massy let out a soft sight. 

“Goodnight Papa..” Massy said softly as his feet pattered over towards the door. As he hit the hallway, he caught sight of his uncles. Uncle Raph and Uncle Leo were discussing something, he didn’t understand the words. But Uncle Leo had his fingers pinching his chin. His eyebrows were scrunched together. Uncle Raph looked concerned, his hand on Uncle Leo’s shoulders and speaking lowly to him. Uncle Donnie was off on their own. They just seemed irritated, stalking off to their lab. 

But then he heard the low speaking in the dojo. 

“Dad, I said I didn’t want Massy learning to fight..”

“Which is ridiculous.”

“He’s too young!” Mikey argued. Massy peeked his head around the shoji door. Mikey’s hands were up in his hair, he looked frustrated. 

“He’s no younger than you were!” Splinter retorted.

“I was too young!”

Silence hung in the air for a moment, the two adults staring each other down. 

“It’s too dangerous, I don’t want him to do what I do.” Mikey’s shoulder’s fell as his arms dropped to his sides.

“It’s too dangerous to leave him defenseless, Michelangelo.” Splinter’s hand came up to rest on Mikey’s arm, squeezing gently. “The world we live in is dangerous, you need to give him the tools he needs to be safe.”

Mikey slowly shook his head, “I don’t want him to get hurt..”

“... He’s just like you,”

“What?” Mikey moved into a crouch to be eye to eye with his father. Splinter nodded, lightly petting the old wrappings around his son’s forearm. 

“Young Masaccio.. Fighting comes naturally to him, just like it did to you,”

Mikey laughs, and it’s wet. 

“Of course he does..”

“That’s enough, you little eavesdropper!” A whispered shout precedes the large hands that pluck Massy up from the ground. He squeaks, looking up to see his Uncle Leo. His previous contemplation was replaced with a relaxed grin. 

“I was not dropping anything,” Massy complained as he was tucked under Uncle Leo’s arm, the large slider making his way down the hall and towards his bedroom. 

“No, but you were listening to conversations that don’t involve you,” Leo argued, lightly shaking the child. Massy laughed, kicking his legs. 

“It was about me!” Massy laughed, the sound kicking up as Leo’s fingers tickled his feet. 

“That doesn’t mean you have to hear it, nosey! Come on, let’s get you in bed before your dad has another heart attack,” Leo joked.

“Another??”

“Another!”

Leo brought Massy to his room, dropping the child down onto his bed. Massy complained he wasn’t tired, he didn’t want to go to bed. He wanted to stay up with everyone else! But as Leo started to babble about something, Massy found his eyes drifting shut. 

He doesn’t remember Uncle Leo leaving, he only vaguely remembers hearing “I love you, son,” as his orange blanket was laid across his body and tucked around him. But that was it. 

As morning came, Massy found his body feeling stiff and angry. His arms hurt! With a grunt, he pushed himself out of bed. He stumbled, everything felt heavy, but he stumbled his way out of his room. 

The lair was louder than it was the night before. Distantly, Massy could hear the muffled music from his uncle’s lab. But what drew his attention was the movement down in the kitchen- along with the smell of waffles.

Massy made his way to the kitchen, his eyes lit up as he saw his father using scissors to cut waffles into sticks- his favorite. 

“Oh! Hey, my little planet,” Mikey grinned as he moved a plate to the table, along with a tiny cup of syrup, “I was about to come wake you up, I made waffle sticks,”

Despite the ache in his arms, Massy rushed over to the table and pulled himself up into his chair, his eyes wide as he looked down at the plate. 

Mikey smiled, patting Massy’s head. “Are you going to have a good day?” 

As he asked, Mikey walked back over to the counter in order to start the clean up process. Massy nodded his head, grabbing one of his waffle sticks and dipping it in the syrup. His eyes tracked the syrup excitedly as it dripped down into the bowl. Then, he stuffed it into his mouth. 

“Good, because I was going to have Uncle Donnie get the old Jupiter Jim movies out.” Mikey said from his spot at the sink. Massy’s eyes widened and he grinned, mouth full of waffle and all. 

“Mikey! Come check this out!” 

Uncle Raph’s voice echoed from the living room. Mikey paused, then looked to Massy, “Are you going to be okay here for a second?”  

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Massy responded as he stuffed another waffle stick into his mouth. Mikey quietly left the room, leaving his child to eat his breakfast. Massy hummed, lightly kicking his feet as he chewed. 

Massy’s mind wandered to the night before, thinking about the time he spent with his grandfather… He hoped Papa wasn’t in trouble. He was just trying to train Massy, it’s not his fault. It was hard to tell what the outcome was, he could barely remember that time before he fell asleep. 

He also hoped that he could do it again. Dad said no but… Massy had fun. And wasn’t that all that mattered?

“Young Masaccio,” Massy looked up to see his aforementioned Grandfather standing there. He looked around quickly, trying to figure out where he came from. Ohmigosh.. Did he summon his Papa? Was he a magician?

“I brought you something, close your eyes,”

Massy arched his brow ridge but closed his eyes. There was shuffling before something wrapped around his face. Massy whined, opening his eyes before Splinter could instruct him too. He reached up, with his clean hand, to touch the black mask that was now wrapped around his eyes. 

Just like Uncle Raph. 

He gasped loudly, nearly choking on his food before he swallowed.

“There, now you can train like a proper hero,” Splinter spoke softly, a small smile on his lips. Massy grinned, even as the mask fell down his face. “Ah! Seems like you’re still too little..” 

Splinter pulled the fabric from his face, gesturing for Massy to lift his arms. Massy followed suit, cocking his head to the side as the fabric was wrapped around his shell. 

“You’ll grow into it, all heroes do,” Splinter decided. The rat pinched the tip of his snout before he disappeared, just as suddenly as he had appeared in that kitchen. Massy’s fingers trailed over his new black mask. 

Now, one day, he would be just like his dad. 

[puzzledcretin]

Welcome to TMNT Write Fight! 

TMNT Write Fight is a gift exchange event, inspired by @artfight and @phicphight. 

Unlike other gift exchanges, you will not be assigned a specific person to exchange with, instead you will be assigned a clan. You earn points for your clan by writing fics based off of other people’s prompts. You can attack by writing for a prompt from the other clan (1 point per 10 words) or ‘spar’ by writing for a prompt from your own clan (1 point per 20 words). Clans will be randomised, but don’t let that stop you from writing for whoever you want. Though, there will be a small point bonus if a clan writes for all of the opposing clan’s prompts, so keep that in mind if you’re looking through the list.

When signing up for the event, all you have to provide is your name, your tumblr username, and at least one prompt. It’s completely okay if you join the event and don’t write a single word. You can even ask to change the prompt, as long as it is before the list of prompts has been posted.

It’s framed as a competition, yes, but we’re all here to have some fun and write stuff. Completely no pressure!

Sign-ups will be today (August 24th) through September 1st. They will be open afterwards, but it will likely take some time to be added to the event.

Sign Up Here

Asks are welcome if you have any more questions about the event.

The rules for creating your prompts below the cut.

No Smut. 

No TCEST.

No hateful content (homophobia, racism, sexism, etc.)

No iteration/character bashing, we’re here to have fun, people.

Any ocs must have public content to go off of, no creating ocs inside of a prompt. 

Keep your prompts 1-4 sentences long. 

Crossovers are only allowed if they exist within pre-existing media (Power Rangers comic, Usagi, the Batman movie, etc.)

Prompts about specific aus (things with fics or comics or dedicated blogs and such) can only be submitted by their creators. 

Specify iterations if referencing iteration-specific events, do not assume others can recognise the iteration automatically. 

[puzzledcretin]

Heyo! This is a new TMNT event blog hoping to run for the month of September.

This is a writing-based gift exchange, inspired by the @artfight and @phicphight events. The rules of this will be further explained outside the intro post.

This is for all iterations, and all characters, as long as you place spoiler warnings where needed (not everyone has watched everything).

Everything should be accessible via Tumblr, but we’ll have a Discord for chilling and promoting, as well as an ao3 collection to explore once this is all done.

This post is just to start getting the word out, and the actual rules of the event will be explained in detail very soon.

This event is the combined effort of @14muffinz, @blueskiesofsaturn, @teainthesnow, @soyouguysfromjersey, and @figuringitoutasigoalong

[puzzledcretin]

The Start of Something New..

This is the snippet of a personal project I'm working on!

Things to know: all relevant characters are named after objects in space, this world contains five species that dominate the planet, and in this chapter you're introduced to three characters. Mars, Terra, and Mercury.

Terra huffed as she watched the other behind the bar. It was the end of the night, everything was closed and now they just had to clean up. And if Terra was taking a small break with a small drink as she watched Mars wipe everything down, it was no one’s business.

“Where are you going tonight?”

“Hm?”

Mars barely looked up when asked the question, leading Terra to know the answer all to well. 

“I don’t want you going back there.” She stated, staring at the human as his eyebrows scrunched together.

“What do you mean? I have to go back there. Jupiter and I have to patch some things up.” Mars responds, finally lifting his gaze to meet Terra’s. And that’s when she feels it. The uncertainty, the fear. She glances down at Mars’ hand balled up in the wet rag and clutching it.

“But you won’t, will you?”

“What do you know?” Mars scoffs, reaching down to dump his ice bucket in the sink. The half melted slush splashed back at him and he let out a huff. He dropped the bucket, letting it drip into the sink as he moved on to grab the bottles he had pulled out and put them away properly.

“I know that you always say you’ll patch things up and then come home miserable.” Terra responds, leaning her cheek against her palm, “I know that you say he’ll get better but he never does. And I bet when you come home and I ask “are you two together?” You won’t have an actual answer for me. Because he won’t give you one either.”

“… He just doesn’t want to-“

“Bullshit. He’s playing a game and you’re the doll. And you let him.” Terra stated. Mars looked at her, tossing the last bottles into the fridge before pressing the lock. 

“You think I’m not playing too? What, you think I don’t have my pieces on the board?”

“I think he doesn’t let you see the board.”

The tension in the air was thick, two stubborn forces meeting in the middle of a landline riddled battle field. 

Denial and logic battling it out before their eyes with double edged swords and no way to hold on.

Mars went to open his mouth but instead the two heard knocking at the door. They exchanged a glance before Terra shrugged and got to her feet, walking over to answer.

Behind it, the young Aphin boy. He had a bright smile, showing off those fangs but there was no ill intent.

“Hey uh.. I think I left my wallet? It’s uh… green with a Tri force on it?” He asked. Terra turned to Mars, whose eyebrow was arched. It was clear he was trying to be nosey and listen in but was unable.

“Wallet, green, nerd things?” Terra asked. It took a moment for Mars to process before he nodded and ducked under the bar, pulling the wallet out and holding it up.

“Yes! That’s it!” The young Aphin pointed, but made no effort to move into the threshold and past Terra.

Mars walked around the bar, coming over and offering the customer his wallet back. The young man took it and immediately checked for his cash, groaning. “So much for my ride home.. looks like I’m walking,” 

The Aphin laughed, offering a wave, “well, thanks for keeping it! I appreciate it,”

Mars stared at the young man and Terra could feel the energy shift so dramatically it almost left her nauseous.

“I’ll walk you home,” 

Terra looked to Mars with an arched brow, but the human only smiled. She recognized this behavior, chasing after a rush just to feel something. Terra had watched this behavior blossom over several months. The Aphin seemed shocked but then he nodded, “sure, maybe I can get you that coffee I offered earlier?” 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” 

Mars went to step out the door then paused and looked to Terra, “Is it… Okay?”

Terra sighed, but with a look over the young man, she nodded. “I’ll cover you this time, but you owe me.”

Mars grinned and gave the Bracne woman a large hug, squeezing her tight for a moment before he went to step out the door.

“Wait!”

Mars paused, his hand in the aphin’s already and both looking appropriately spooked.

“Give me your apron,” 

Mars’ face turned red but he nodded, letting go of his new stranger for a moment to untie the apron and hand it over, “Thank you,” he offered. But Terra shook her head.

“You stay safe.”

As the two left, she finally caught the name of the young man, Mercury. And she watched them walk down the street before returning to clean up. 

She made sure to do Mars’ part, and at the end of it, she made sure to grab Mars’ jacket from the hook in the break room. 

Terra was looking forward to going home and collapsing into her fiancée's arms, thank the stars she was off the next day.

[puzzledcretin]

Chapter 3 of Time in a Bottle

[puzzledcretin]

If you guys liked the cover for my fic I am reminding you that my beloved does commissions and he’s very talented

hi i do comms now

I've decided im shameless and fearless enough to promote the commissions I do here. Feel free to send me direct messages through tumblr if you're interested! Rb's appreciated 💙 in the middle of trying to move across states atm ;w;