side-shuffling-hyperfixations

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

Is this anything?

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

so far, i still know who you are

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

Staring at bits and pieces of my outline for ICTI and trying to remind/convince myself there really is no good place or reason to put Grav through the Leo-typical Window Treatment...

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

I Can Take It: Fall

(Prev)

~

The first time Grav had any reason to doubt his father, he was six, maybe seven years old. He and his brothers could tell Sliver was eager (impatient, in hindsight) to get a move on and help them start exploring and maturing in their powers. What they interpreted as excitement was infectious; they were all tripping over themselves to volunteer for the first lesson.

All except Gravi.

Of course he would love nothing more than time alone with his father, a chance to receive his undivided attention. With three little brothers always up to their eyes in chaos—Grid crashing into every other corner with his uncontrolled growth spurts and shrinks, Shelle irresistibly drawn to stick his fingers into outlets, Blobby trailing puddles to be mopped up throughout the day—to say one-on-one time was a rarity would be an understatement.

Gravi was always the one Sliver didn’t have to concern himself with because his powers were, quote unquote, “the least disruptive.” He tried to take pride in that but really, it was all about how and when he used them. When Grid was suddenly a couple feet taller and his elbow bumped the lamp over, Grav could catch it before the bulb broke. He could exert a smidge of extra G force on Shelle’s pace, slowing him down long enough for Sliver to pull his hands away from the outlet. If he was paying enough attention, he could cast a little antigravity bubble to catch some of Blob’s mess before it spattered the floor.

He could have been the most disruptive if he wanted his attention badly enough. Imagine Papa’s face if he came in one day to find everything in the room floating! Imagine his face if he saw his brothers floating! But of course Gravi wouldn’t do that. He had lost count of how many times Grid and Blob begged and begged him to make them fly and how many times he had to verbally let them down, because there was no way he was going to let them up and then down physically.

He kind of…maybe…had a teensy little problem with heights. Gravity kept everything on the ground, which in Gravi’s mind meant if that was his thing, the ground was precisely where he was supposed to stay. The sky was antigravity; it was nothingness, it wouldn’t do anything to help him. But he knew, he just knew the first thing Papa would want to work on with him was flight.

And it was. Because of course Sliver picked him first, expecting him to be the least disruptive student and thus the least trouble to teach.

Maybe if he had made himself more of a nuisance, he wouldn’t be planted here, paralyzed, sweaty palms and shaking shell pressed to the cold pane of a dormer window.

“There is nothing to fear, my son. You already possess the tools with which to get yourself down safely.”

“I can’t!”

“You must. You’ve slowed and stopped Blobboid’s messes before they hit the ground several times before. How is this any different?”

“B-Because it’s me!” The comparison to Blobby’s slime only painted a worse mental picture of what might happen when he hit the ground. Splat. “I don’t wanna fall!”

“You are the only one who can ensure that.” Not true. Didn’t his father have powers too? Why wouldn’t he get him down? Why wouldn’t he help? Whatever his reasons, Sliver simply stood waiting for him some twenty feet below.

Every time Gravi risked a tearful peek down at him, his heart jumped into his throat—and every time Sliver looked less and less pleased, until at last he sighed disappointedly.

“I expected quicker progress than this…but I suppose it does give me a chance to check on your brothers, make sure they’re still where I left them. I trust you will be. Perhaps by the time I return, you will be ready to set your personal feelings aside and participate in this lesson.”

“Wha—No! D-Don’t just leave me up here, please, I’m scared!” he cried, desperation turning cold blood to ice as Sliver turned away. “Wait! Wait, come back! Papa!”

Something surged, something shivered. Something shattered. The gravitational force with which he tried to cling to the window caved it in with alarming ease. The crashing of the glass made him jump, feet skidding out from under him. Heels over head he slid wildly down the sloped roof and then off into the nothingness. And then—

Slow motion. Floating. Flying. What was it in that one movie? Falling with style, flinging himself right into his father’s arms.

“There, you see? Was that so difficult? You did it! You did it on your first try. You certainly took your sweet time but observe: no mess, not a scratch, which means there was no need for any of this fright and fuss! Come now, no need for all these tears. You are perfectly fine and I am very proud of you,” he tutted, though it was little consolation to Gravi in the moment; he only caught bits and pieces of it over his heaving sobs of frantic relief that he had turned back to catch him. “Tsk, did you honestly believe I would have left you there? I would never, silly boy…”

And he had wanted to believe him. As much as he wanted to take it at that, on trust and love, that stubborn root of fear curled around the newly planted seed of doubt. He could sense the “but” coming.

“But you needed the push. Now you see the fear was all in your imagination. You are the only thing holding yourself back. You have done it once, now you can do it again—”

And again.

With the holo-hall’s safety disengaged and the density heightened, he was quickly discovering panes of cyber-glass were just as painful to fall through as the real deal. Stars blinded him as his head slammed into the window frame but the mask provided just enough padding that it didn’t knock him completely out. His cape protected much of his skin from the glass, except the uncovered lower half of his face, the arm he’d thrown in a futile attempt to catch himself and the leg that slid across the sill. Gasping as he thudded onto the ground, he was hard-pressed not to inhale any of the shards raining down after him. The projected ceiling of the downtown antique store swam, vaguely pulsing in time with the throbbing of his skull. When his father loomed blurrily overhead, a part of him wished the crash had knocked him out.

“Get up.”

“I…can’t…”

“You can and you must. If you cannot, who else will? Every moment you lie here helpless is another moment the enemy has to wreak even more terror. Every moment you waste in weakness provides them more time to rip everything you love away from you.” He jerked a nod out at the simulated street, the holograms fleeing, stumbling, scrambling. “Your brothers would be out there at this very moment, fighting, as you should be! You say they are your source of strength? Prove as much. They need their leader. A leader cannot stay down. Staying down is for those already defeated. Get up!”

Get up.

Can’t.

Can’t stay down. If he stayed down, it would prove to Sliver that he wasn’t cut out for this and his eye might drift back toward his brothers. Can’t let that happen. He was cut out for this—and rather deeply at that, if the blood slithering across his scales was any indication. Diamonds were formed under pressure, Sliver said that first day. Diamonds were cut down to size, cut to perfection. Diamonds were nigh unbreakable.

It was only with antigravity to serve as a boost a crutch that he gradually made it back to his feet, swaying, shaking from head to toe, but upright nonetheless. He could barely make out Sliver’s nod of…presumably approval through the spots in his vision.

“Now…prove to me you are still strong enough to endure alone against unfair advantages.”

A swift kick to his ribs sent him right back down into the field of glass, his whip deftly snatched from his side as he fell. Not again, not again! He’d propelled the air from his lungs with that kick; he didn’t have time to properly school his breathing before his world was constrained to the fifteen inches of a noose.

No panic, no fear, no panic, no fear, no air—

He scrabbled for purchase across the floor, thicker fragments of glass biting through his gloves, but cranking up the G force on his own body made it harder for Sliver to drag him.

“Good. Your fear does not reduce you to complete mindlessness now. But suppose your enemy were to have an element of surprise?”

Element?

Shell.

The instant the Utromidium came within range, his increased G forces were stripped. All extra resistance in the line went slack and he went sprawling. He couldn’t have drawn a full breath even with his throat free; nausea clogged him. If he thought everything was spinning before, it was pirouetting now but he couldn’t pinpoint the green glow. Where—? Sliver could have stashed the Utromidium in any one of the numerous antique pots or vases nearby. With one scrounged burst of adrenaline, he flung a foot out at the nearest vase, rolling it over, but there wasn’t enough power behind the blow to break it open.

“Property damage? Is that what your critical thinking has been reduced to? Perhaps I spoke too soon about your state of mindlessness. Surely I raised you to be more observant than that.”

He wasn’t observing much of anything anymore; the world was graying out at the seams. Not now, not like this! He just had to get through a little more, dig a little deeper, a little further. One day at a time.

This day felt like it would never end. Maybe it never would. At this rate it would blend into the next, then the next, the next, the next, wringing him like a wet rag until he had nothing left to squeeze out but fear. No power, no control, no voice.

No more. He just had to make it stop. End your own suffering as quickly and painlessly as possible.

“C—hgh—C’mputer—f-freeze progr’m—”

There was no way Shellitron 99 would register his gurgling as a clear command; even if it had, the whip drew taut to cut him off.

“You should know better by now than to speak out of turn,” Sliver growled. “That is not a tactical retreat; that is a coward’s way out. Your lesson concludes when I say it is over. Now fight back! Where is your willpower, your determination?”

Bleeding out of him in dazzling, dizzying streaks of red. He’d always liked red.

“I expect more of you than to take this lying down!”

What else could he do?

Without power, control or a team there to be strong for, what else could he do but fall back on the basics? Slump bonelessly and trust the ground to catch him as it always had, always would. That’s where he was meant to be. That’s where he would stay.

Staying down was for the defeated, the weak, the heartbroken and humiliated. The failure.

That cut deeper than anything else. At least he wouldn’t be conscious to feel the sting of it for much longer. At least his brothers weren’t here to see.

I’m sorry…

“Computer, end program!”

The gray world flashed white—white as the flag of surrender, white as his eyes fluttering back.

“Grav!”

“Dad! What the shell are you doing?!”

~

(Next: TBA)

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

Fluffy July Alt 3: Sharing Headphones

“Share?” Leo prompted mildly, inaudible over Donnie’s late-night playlist; he just happened to read his twin’s lips momentarily in his peripheral. With insomnia hitting him this hard, a one-syllable request was all Leo could muster.

It served its purpose regardless. Prying out an earbud, Don passed it along with the nearest shammy cloth. “Wipe it clean when you’re done. If a few loose brain cells leak out through your tympana to contaminate my tech, I don’t want to know,” he announced wryly.

The small snort of feigned offense he earned for that one was worth listening at half the volume.  

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

AHH forgor that this movie have been released on this blessed day. Luv these little guys ever since they made their debut on the big screen. Waiting patiently for the sequel and season 2 😀👍

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

Theyre the only reason i have fortnite in my searchbar

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

Three is a magic number

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

I Can Take It: Crack

(Prev)

~

“Guys!”

The heart monitor’s rhythm gave away the jolt of adrenaline shot straight into Shelle’s veins at that call. For all that he’d been engrossed in his laptop for the past few hours already, no depths of immersion in his work on the security system could withstand that tone from Blob, the one that put any older brother worth his salt on yellow alert at the least.

Shelle could have given himself whiplash at the speed with which he jerked his head up from the screen to see Blob slithering through the crack in the medbay doors, unwilling to wait for them to fully open as he scurried toward his siblings. Clocking the look on his face, Grid upended his chair in a rush to get up.

“What is it?” he demanded, fists already clenched in prejudicial anticipation of greeting whatever could put that thread of fear in his little brother’s voice.

“Something’s wrong. I don’t know exactly what but somebody needs to talk to Grav.” Bewildered or maybe let down by what didn’t sound like an active threat, Grid deflated a little and Blob glanced insistently between him and Shelle. “No, I’m serious. I just saw him on his break and he was not in a good way.”

“How so?”

“He was crying—and not like how he used to when we were kids and he’d get upset when he couldn’t get a move set right on the first try.”

“Oh. Yeah, I remember that.” Grid considered. “He’s been goin’ at 110% all this time; he’s pretty worn out. Maybe the advanced classes are gettin’ a little too advanced for him now and he’s gettin’ frustrated.”

“No, not like that. I’m talking full-on burst into tears, sobbing in my arms kind of crying. Gravi doesn’t do that! Something is wrong but he wouldn’t talk to me. He just—shut down and went back to class. Somebody needs to get it out of him.” Blob’s adamance spurred an uneasy exchange of glances.

“Geez. Trying to pry something out of Grav is like…well…trying to pull something out of orbit. He hasn’t talked much to any of us lately, has he? If anybody would know what’s wrong, it’d probably be Sliver,” Shelle pointed out gingerly.

“I already asked him,” Grid protested. “The morning of our last mission, Grav was acting strange—”

“Was that before or after your fight?” Blob interjected with a note of accusation.

Shelle perked up. “What fight?”

“Yes, before that! You weren’t there, Shelle, and the fight had nothin’ to do with it! Earlier that morning Grav got all squirrely and snappy outta nowhere so I asked Sliver if he’d noticed anything off with him lately. He said no, and that apparently Grav’s doin’ great and he’s right where he wants to be.” Hard-pressed to bite back a sigh, Grid folded his arms. “Then again, maybe we aren’t the only ones Grav’s keepin’ secrets from. Maybe he’s pullin’ the weird roundabout act on Sliver too.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Shelle countered, glad to see he was backed by Blob’s unhesitating nod.

Grid closed his mouth. He opened it. Closed it, clenched it, reopened it with a toss of his hands and an “Okay, how do you guys do that?”

“What?”

“Just assume Grav’s got everybody’s best interests at heart all the time, no questions asked! And even when he does, what if how he decides to go about it is doin’ more harm than good? He’s not a saint—a wannabe martyr, maybe, but not a saint. He can lie and keep secrets and be unfair and selfish like anybody else!”

“Who said he couldn’t be? But we know him. You know him. It’s Grav. His best interests are usually in the interest of the team too; that’s just how he is.”

“I know! And don’t get me wrong, I—I want to believe nothin’ but the best but how’s it in the team’s interest for him to be takin’ on so much more than he should on his own when the whole point of a team is for us to work together? And if he really isn’t doin’ so hot, if he isn’t happy and he’s pushin’ himself all the way to a breakdown, why keep doin’ it?”

“He’s a doer. He always tries to finish what he starts, no matter how long it takes or how hard he has to push.”

“But why won’t he let us do it with him?!” The near imploring note in Grid’s voice indicated he must have asked himself that question numerous times before. “When he’s got that one-track mind, he usually tries to get all of us on the same track so we’re ready in case he needs us!”

Shelle drummed uncertainly at the edge of his laptop, barely glancing at the incoming popup. “Maybe he…doesn’t need us for this?”

“You didn’t see him before. He needs us,” Blob assured firmly. “But for some reason he’s trying to act like he doesn’t.”

“Then how’re we supposed to be any help to him? To anyone? If the team isn’t all for one, one for all, if we’re not on the same page or the same level—He’s not lettin’ me, us, do our thing and maybe it ain’t personal, maybe it ain’t supposed to be a punishment but it sure feels like a downgrade. He thinks he’s doin’ us a favor, keepin’ us safe from somethin’ and maybe you two are fine with it but I don’t need any babying!”

Shelle thinned his lips at that.

He doesn’t want you babying us, we both knew that but you still tried.

Remembered guilt for the action Grav went out of his way to take for him was the first sensation to smolder. Then…something else sparked Shelle’s attention, like one of the intermittent security faults he’d been trying to recreate.

“Run that back,” he urged suddenly. “I mean, say that again.”

“I don’t need him babyin’ me,” Grid repeated more emphatically.

“No, the…the part about doing us a favor. What was that?”

“He thinks he’s keepin’ us safe from somethin’.”

Blob cocked his head. “That weird ‘let me protect you’ thing?”

“Yeah. Supposedly that’s why he thinks he’s the only one who needs these classes; he’s gotta be the first line of defense.”

“Against what?”

“Anyone, apparently.”

“We’ve all faced the same threats he has on a pretty equal playing field.”

“Right? It doesn’t make sense.”

Shelle swallowed with difficulty, eyes drifting down to his cuff links without really seeing them. “But you said the other day he’s been getting into his own head because he saw me and Blob hurt…” he murmured at length. “How’d you put it?”

“It shook him up. He thought he should’ve been able to prevent it.”

I was such a mess after my training, you saw…

“And when he gets that way, he doubles down on trainin’.”

“So he thinks he’s helping us? Putting in all this extra work for us so we don’t have to, even when he knows we—or at least you, Grid—don’t want him to?” Blob fidgeted, fought back a shudder. “Sure, our regimen’s been…a lot easier than what Sliver had us doing before, that’s been nice but…seeing him cry like that, I don’t think I want him to either. It’s…”

Unnecessary. Undeserved.

Dangerous.

If the others detected the surge, the white hot dread that struck between Shelle’s ribs like lightning, they gave no indication. Fission occurred when a neutron slammed into an atom, splitting it into two other atoms, then others, exciting them into a chain reaction. It felt like a storm of excitable, dangerous, disturbing atoms were all tumbling together in his brain all at once.

You need help, you know I’m gonna be right there.

I…I asked for it, okay? This was between him and me.

Intense. “Endurance training.”

And apparently Sliver’s more than happy to give him overtime.

If I had just pulled myself together, you wouldn’t have needed to—and then he wouldn’t—

Thinkin’ he should’ve been able to prevent it…thinks he’s doin’ us a favor or keepin’ us safe from somethin’—

What’s Sliver got you doin’ that has you so wiped out all the time anyway?

Nothing I can’t handle.

First line of defense. Against anyone, apparently. Anyone.

A wannabe martyr.

I wouldn’t regret it. At all, ever, period. You’re my brother. It’s my job.

“Guys…” Shelle didn’t quite recognize the voice that came out of him, thin and frayed through the lump burning in his throat. Judging by his brothers’ startled expressions, they didn’t either. Was that how he and Grid had looked when Blob initially came rushing in? “I-I think it might be because this…isn’t the first time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“First time for what?”

Shell. His tongue and throat were buzzing, threatening to short out, as if allergic to the words.

Was he really doing this? Should he? Dare he? If Grav was going through something entirely unrelated, if baring himself and his shame and his weakness like this was for nothing—

But what if it was something? What if Grav was…?

“This isn’t the first time Grav’s seen me hurt,” he managed, stilted and staticky, “badly, and it ‘shook him up.’” Grid made a sound like he was going to inquire but Shelle rushed to speak over him; if he let him interrupt, he wouldn’t be able to go on. “He—the—the one advanced class I got back before Sliver changed the schedule was—” A nightmare. “—endurance training.”

Grid tensed. Upon noticing, Blob instinctively started wringing his hands. “You guys said that before. What does that mean?”

“I don’t know what you meant when you said it, Grid, but mine was…” Trembling fingertips seared holes into the top layer of his blankets as he curled them in, bracing himself for dear life to forge ahead. “It was grueling. It—It was the scariest, most painful thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“What? But…no, Dad wouldn’t hurt us. I mean he would, he always says pain means it’s a teachable moment, but he wouldn’t put any of us through something he knew we weren’t ready for. At least, not on purpose…” Blob’s every word was weaker and more unsure than the last. “Right?”

“Well, I wasn’t ready. You said before, Grid, that you didn’t know if Blob and I had passed our tests. I failed. Badly. I was hurt.” He hurt me. Tears fizzled and hissed as they streaked down Shelle’s face. “A lot worse than this leg. I couldn’t even move after it was over; I just lied there and wished I could pass out.”

“Shelle…” Grid whispered, aghast. Shelle couldn’t look at him, could only just make out through the welling blur how his hand strayed to catch on that chip in his plastron again.

“And then Grav found me. He took care of me. He got me cleaned up and back on my feet but he…he was so mad.”

“Not at you, though, right?”

“No. At Sliver. For leaving me there. For putting me through it in the first place, for…punishing me.”

“‘You’re not the one who should be apologizing.’” Wavering under their stares, Blob gulped. “My last sparring session with Dad. He was, uh…in a mood. He didn’t let up for anything and I came out a mess. Not like you, Shelle, I could get up and walk and all but it still wasn’t…great. That’s what Grav said when he saw me, that I wasn’t the one who should be apologizing.” His hands were wringing faster, sludge sweating and stringing in on itself. “…He said he’d deal with it.”

“How?”

“He wasn’t specific…but that wasn’t long before the schedule changed. B-But Dad wouldn’t make Grav do the same kind of thing he did with you, right? Whatever it was? After he saw how bad it went for you, he’d tone it down!”

“Would he?”

Grid leaned, pressing a hand onto one of Shelle’s shuddering shoulders; it was unclear if he was trying to offer consolation or steady himself. Perhaps both. He was pale. “If Grav’s tryin’ to take on the same level of trainin’ I was on before…”

“Why, what were you doing? What happened?”

“It—I—” Grid stopped short, wide eyes having strayed to Shelle’s computer, the notification still flashing insistently onscreen. “What is that?”

“Wha—another security popup. I had the system open to work on the fault, it’s not important right—” As quickly as he moved to minimize it, he froze.

“What’s wrong?” Blob pressed.

“The safety protocols have been disengaged in one of the holo-halls.”

~

(Next)

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

Fluffy July Alt 2: Fake Dating

“April, I’m so sorry! Was that super weird, butting in like that? I just remembered what a creep you said that guy was and I-I panicked!”

“You kidding? You're a lifesaver! Everybody knows how fierce you guys are. Now that he thinks we’re a thing, he’ll finally back off.”

“But what if he tells people?! We’re not—I’m just—and you’re you, and—”

“Leo, breathe. Who cares what they think? What matters is, friend or…‘boyfriend’, you got my back.”

“…Yeah.” Exhaling slowly, Leo mustered a lopsided smile, heart easing when April returned it. “Yeah, always.”

“Right back at ya.”

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

Here, have a bunch of Incorrect Turtle Texts I made when I was bored

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

Thinking about the Super Turtles' sense of identity, or lack thereof. They weren't mutated by happenstance but with intention just to have these powers and were named for their powers and thus defined by their powers and were never offered or referred to by any identity outside of them so this is all they are.

Maybe that's why Blob and Grid just don't even bother wearing masks or real costumes - Blob's out here in his birthday slime suit, Grid's in his plain ol' flexible unitard because what secret identities? What you see is what you get. But Grav -- because he is a Leo in all but name -- has the most complete costume, mask, cape, gloves, emblem-engraved belt, boots, the whole shebang regardless, because if this is what he's going to be defined by, he's going to do it the "right" way. And Shelle, as a Don in all but name and an '03 Don specifically, the glue, the peacekeeper, will paste some lightning bolts on his face and chest so Grav doesn't feel isolated. It's a statement of solidarity more than anything else and that's important enough to warrant it, even if it doesn't really do anything for him.

Thinking about their silent glances around at each other when Mikey introduces himself by an actual common name and then again when he refers to Shelle as "your Donnie" because...they don't get that. We don't have that here.

Do you think they started wondering about everyday names, identities that could be theirs beyond the masks and not just what the world picked for them, after Mikey was gone?

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

doodlez of the teetlez

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

War is over guys (we lost)

Here's the salvaged quarter of the video I was able to render before everything went down.

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

A wild Emotional Breakdown appeared! Blobboid used Hug! It's not very effective... Oh, no! The Graviturtle broke free! What will Blobboid do? ▶ Run

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

I Can Take It: Shaken

(Prev)

~

Shelle didn’t know what he was saying. It wasn’t…like that. He was still tripping out on the meds, he didn’t mean it.

Maybe if he repeated this to himself often enough, Blob might start to actually believe it. Maybe he could work up the courage to return to the medbay, look Shelle in the eyes and not see him asking those three little words with such terrifyingly easy detachment.

Did I jump?

The fact that he even had to ask—the fact that it was even a blip on his radar, a seed planted in his mind—

He didn’t mean it.

But what was it people said about drunk or medicated thoughts being the most honest thoughts?

Blob knew he was probably making Shelle feel bad with his absence. It wasn’t fair to him; it was just salt in the wound. Shouldn’t…fearing for his life make him want to ensure he didn’t let Shelle out of his sight?

No. No. He didn’t mean it! It was…nothing, which meant there was nothing to worry about, which meant there was no reason to hover. Besides, Grid was with him. Anybody would be safer with Grid than they would be with Blob anyway.

But what if—

I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.

If anyone would know how and what to say to drown out the frantic, rolling boil of his thoughts, it would be Grav. He’d kept it together like a champ through all of this; he’d calmed Shelle down before almost effortlessly. Now was as good a time as any for Blob to take his turn.

“Grav,” he pleaded more than greeted, “I’m sorry to bother you, I know you’re on your mid-morning break or whatever but I need your advice on someth—”

Oh.

Oh.

Now was in fact not a good time, he realized too late, stunned to the spot as Grav startled, scrubbing any trace of tears from his face in one swoop with the back of his glove before turning to meet his gaze.

“Uh, sure, bud,” he offered faintly, clearing his throat. “What’s up?”

What the shell? How did he just…turn it off like that in the span of a blink? It was unnatural. Blob found his legs weak when he could finally unglue himself from where he stood, shuffling to sink down across from him. Grav waited with the patience of the earth, mustering a smile for him, expectant and welcoming and what the shell?

“Grav…”

“Hm?”

Blob searched kind, ready, red-rimmed eyes for several seconds, unsure what he was even looking for, at a loss for anything to say but “…Are you okay?”

Something in his face tremored or twitched, barely, but at such close range it may as well have been a full-fledged fissure in his mask of composure.

“I’m fine,” he whispered, though he couldn’t even finish forming those two wobbly syllables before Blob was sliding his arms around his neck. He drew a sharp breath. A cough followed first, then a sob, and then he collapsed into a wracking combination of the two that had Blob biting his tongue against a slew of disconcerted curses and floundering to adjust his grip.

Grav didn’t cry in front of him, much less like this; he didn’t know what he wanted, what would offer the most comfort. What did Dad do to help back when they were really little? He couldn’t remember. Should he loosen up his hold, give him some room to breathe? Tuck him closer? Pat his shell?

“M’sorry, m’sorry, m’sorry, sorry…”

“Oh, no, no, don’t be, Gravi. I got you,” he stammered, aiming for an amalgamation of all three ideas. Petting his shell was a hesitant, clumsy effort with the cumbersome fabric of the cape in his way. Between that, the labored wheezing and the slightly alarming heat radiating from his face pressed into Blob’s shoulder, maybe he’d feel better, lighter with the cape and mask off? “Here, let me get this—”

That brought Grav’s head back up so fast, he almost headbutted him, already halfway to wresting free with a squawked “No!”

“O-Okay! Okay…” Blob’s heart raced as he rushed to smooth its folds back around him. Good one, slime-for-brains, strip him of his security blanket, make him feel even more exposed while he’s crying his eyes out. What were you thinking?

Too late to salvage it now. Any of the tension his initial hug melted away had clawed its way right back in between them. The desperate, gasping breath Grav took to try and collect himself hurt Blob’s throat just to hear. It hurt even more to let go of him but he wasn’t going to force it when Grav was actively shrinking back.

“…M’sorry,” he croaked again, curling deeper into his cape. Blob had never seen him look so small. “I’m not…You shouldn’t have had to see that.”

“It’s alright.” Whatever it was, it was very much not alright, that much was clear but what else could he say? Blob dithered, uncertain, agitated, cursing himself for ruining it. “Is there anything I can—D-Do you want to talk about—?”

“No. Thank you. …I’ll be alright, as long as I’m not late back to class.” Wet eyes downcast, he drifted past him, slowly at first, until he knew he was out of Blob’s peripheral vision and free to pick up the pace to beat a proper retreat.

Blob matched his speed, traveling the opposite direction. He couldn’t get to the medbay fast enough.

~

(Next: TBA)

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

Fluffy July Alt 1: Firsts

“That did not just happen.”

Mikey recognized Raph’s blunt deadpan for what it really was; he was numb with shock.

“I, uh…think it did, though.”

“Nope, that was nothin’. I didn’t hear nothin’ outta her just now and neither did you.”

“But don’t you wanna rub it in Casey’s face?”

“Oh, I would, but if April ever finds out…”

Mikey blanched. “Good point.”

“Vow of silence, cross our plastrons. This never happened.”

“Yeah, my lips are sealed.”

Unfortunately little Shadow Jones didn’t agree, waving a chubby hand at them as she repeated her first word for emphasis: “Turto! Turto!”