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lizzylucky · 6 months ago

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Draxum hadn't accounted for the fact that when he gave four hatchling turtles the DNA of a human being in order to give them greater intelligence, he would effectively be making himself a surrogate father to actual children, with wildly different needs.

When he sent his gargoyles to obtain a sample of DNA from Big Mama's prized warrior, the intention was to create his own. They were to be the prototypes for an army of simple creatures with just enough heightened intelligence to learn combat and follow commands, that he might defend Yokai kind with.

Instead, he quickly discovered the integration of human DNA had been a little over successful in allowing his test subjects to learn and think and feel in a civilized manner, going so far as to override some of their natural instincts as turtles that would otherwise allow them to learn to care for themselves. He had to feed them, by hand, with bottles.

Like infants.

They were easily distraught by unfamiliar things, and quickly became dependent on Draxum in every sense of the word. They babbled, they cried, they explored things with their hands, their tails, their mouths.

It was an unplanned adjustment needed to be made, but no matter. If anything, learning to understand the new hybrid emotions of these turtles would allow Draxum greater advantages when they grew enough to safely learn combat. Preferences, likes and dislikes, needs, diet, and so on, all became more complex areas of study.

Even a couple years in, he found himself continually surprised. Brain scans had shown that the turtles were more intelligent, still, than anticipated. They, truly, seemed more human in mind and function than anything else, with only some base instincts and behaviors left to influence their personalities. They retained many reptilian traits, but overall had the bipedal anatomy and function of humans and some Yokai. It had been an infuriating discovery at first, but Draxum had to admit that over time he became fond of it.

Each turtle had developed his own personality. The eldest, for example, had a love of plush toys, and showed a fierce protective instinct over the others. The youngest, Draxum had learned, was contrastedly reckless and excitable, not nearly so reserved or gentle as the first. Additionally, he was, decidedly, to be kept away from any and every writing utensil unless under strict supervision (unfortunately, this was learned a little too late, as was evidenced by the clear markings left in several work benches). Then, of course, were the slider and the softshell, who had the most bizarre relationship. They were constantly fighting with each other, but utterly inseparable, and each showed an incredible and unique curiosity, constantly exploring and watching and studying, with concentration filling their eyes in ways Draxum had never seen in other children so young.

Embarrassingly, it took another couple years before Draxum realized he couldn't simply refer to them by their species' names. It certainly was effective, but they were not the mild, simple creatures he had once expected them to be, and he knew that they never would.

Now, they were vocal, playful, inquisitive... energetic. By the gods, were they energetic. They never stopped moving, never stopped talking, never stopped eating, never stopped wanting or needing.

...This is why Draxum never had children of his own. It took all the time and energy he had to spare, and then some. Although it would be a lie to say he wished they were any other way.

They had so much capacity to learn, and with their emotional propensity could one day come to understand exactly why Draxum was doing this, which he knew would be an edge in their combative styles.

As he introduced them, slowly, to more of the world's culture and knowledge, he felt, in a new way, that their very existences were revolutionary. A perfect, synergistic unity between two entirely different families of genetic material, with numerous enhanced abilities. And they were children. They maintained all the properties of regular children, but had so much more in store! Such grand destinies! They would be, inarguably, the greatest warriors of their time when they were grown. They would be the compassionate, skillful heroes of all Yokai, the first of a new generation of super mutants, and the key to overcoming the evils of the humans who had overtaken the surface and posed such threat to all who lived below.

It was with great reluctance that he allowed himself to accept, however, that not all of mankind was evil. There were many forms of art, beautiful in different ways, there were some rare people filled with kindness, inventions that utilized resources in ways Yokai kind had never thought to. Perhaps he had been a little stubborn in his ways, a bias cementing over time that blinded him to some of the beauty that did yet exist in such a species.

Make no mistake, humans were a threat. Innocent families lived in fear, in hiding, of the governments and ruthless sciences designed to invade, to blaspheme the name of knowledge, with no regard for the safety of this people.

Draxum could live with being an outlaw to the Yokai if his experiments would lead to their salvation. He may be their villain in today's papers, but in history books he would be a hero.

Still, he wished to amend some of his practices. Even if only to his turtles, he would be known for his ability to change and understand. He would be fair, and he would be truthful.

And so it was that he told the turtles the nature of their existence. Perhaps he muted some of the details, to protect their minds until they had more understanding, but he would not lie to them about their DNA. He told them of Lou Jitsu, and their human genetics, and he begrudgingly allowed them access to the culture of the humans. He would let them choose their interests unbiased.

In the process, he came to know of some of the revolutionaries of human history. Though he wasn't particularly inclined to believe there were no evils involved, he was intrigued by the strange moral code that the humans boasted from their different time periods. The turtles, as well, were fascinated by the stories of war heroes and generals, seamstresses and inventors, artists and royalty.

Initially, when it came time to redesignate his turtles, Draxum had been inclined toward the names of those whose legacies persisted in the humans' culture even today- perhaps a president for the slider, a scientist for the softshell, a great general for the snapper, and an artist for the young box turtle. It seemed, somehow, clandestinely right; carefully considered to exemplify each of their personalities.

And although he had begun to get used to the possibility of names like "Monroe" and "Edison", his indecision on the matter seemed to be working against him. He was taking too long, and the boys were growing smarter.

It was a day in August, later that year, that he found his two youngest arguing over a Renaissance book, oddly enough. The elder two took to a game of knocking "secret patterns" on each other's carapaces, which he dismissed before he could allow himself the confusion that came with wondering why a five year old would want to knock on a spiked shell for fun.

After breaking up the fight and confiscating the book (which, as it turned out, the youngest only wanted because it had pictures in it, much to the chagrin of the other, who insisted that reading it was much better than just looking at the pictures), Draxum found himself idly flipping through pages of rustic images and rudimentary ideas, developed by people with strange names.

Maybe he was simply too tired to consider it properly, but, feeling defeated in his endeavor, he chose four names at random and assigned them to the young turtles, deciding it had been long enough.

It took a while to get used to, but soon "Raphael", "Leonardo", "Donatello", and "Michaelangelo" truly fit.

Over time, the boys grew... ravenous. They devoured everything- food, information, technique. They were learning quickly everything Draxum taught them. They practiced with Huginn and Muninn, leapt up, around, over, and through everything in the lab, and took special interest in action-filled films.

And Draxum grew fonder. He wasn't entirely surprised, of course; it's natural to develop some sense of sentimentality when caring for anything this long. Even if they had been the simple minded turtles he expected, he knew this was inevitable, to a degree.

What startled him was the sudden sense of fear that came with watching them train. The alarm that made his heart beat harder when one of them fell from somewhere high or any time they ran simple drills with weapons not blunted and made from wood.

He subtly began to intensify their defensive strategies, taught them where they were most vulnerable so they could protect those spots, insisted on perfecting their abilities to parry, block, and dodge before anything else.

And, over time, he found himself training them less often than before, thinking, "I must preserve their innocence and prolong their childhood experiences". After all, it was an essential part of development, was it not? If it were tarnished too much, they might become unwise or unjust as warriors. And, really, Raphael was only 8 years old, and he was the eldest; they were much too young to be exposed to the harshness of what their combative training was really for.

He told himself that, time and time again. He told them that, making certain they understood that their training was not a game. It wasn't untrue, certainly.

Really, he just wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to admit to what extent he cared about them, because it was too much. It was more than he could ever have been prepared for. It was more than that passion to protect Yokai kind ever was, and if he ever realized that, he might become the compromise to his own purposes, to the very reason these turtles exist this way to begin with, and then what? What was he to tell them, why was he to train them, who did they exist for if not the inhabitants of the Hidden City?

No. He couldn't do that. He simply would not allow it, not when so much was at stake.

And yet...

More and more often he desired simply to watch them. He was growing weary with worry, and with that tight feeling that arose in his chest each time one of his boys so much as frowned.

Raphael loved to carry his brothers on his shoulders. And he prided himself on being the big brother, in every way. He liked repeating instructions Draxum gave to the others, and tended to play caretaker anytime someone was sad, or had a bruised knee. He often played the "bad guy" in their made up games so the younger ones could "win", he was the mediator in big decisions, like what book they should read before bed, and he seemed always ready with an armful of stuffed animals when he wanted to express affection. So strong, incredibly strong, but soft spoken and sweet.

Leonardo adored Raphael. Just as Raphael did Draxum, Leonardo liked to imitate and repeat instructions. He tended to take charge in many of their childish endeavors, and had a propensity for dramatics and heroism, often pretending to rescue his brothers. This seemed to irritate Donatello to no end, unless he was also playing the hero, and often times he was. The two were usually glued to the hip, though Leonardo liked to make a point to tell all his brothers about everything that went on, and would take a movie night with the three of them over a one on one outing with Draxum any day. He was exuberant and joyous, and very driven by the concept of justice.

Donatello, similarly, seemed to care very dearly about maintaining a bond with all three of his brothers, but he was peculiar, often more reserved and enjoying his alone time. That child read and read like he might never get a chance to again, and he absorbed what he read like a sponge. Quite a few times Draxum found him pulling apart whatever he could get his hands on, and though an effort was made, there was no hiding place the boy couldn't discover in his quest for Draxum's tools. In spite of his quizzical, sometimes stoic nature, Donatello was sensitive, and very thoughtful. He would spend hours talking about his books and his ideas- some of which were very clever- and he was expressive in secondary ways- sitting nearer his brothers even without interacting, crafting things out of paper as gifts. Even the little heart-shaped mark on the back of his soft shell seemed a fitting part of him- he wore his heart on his sleeve, so to speak, and didn't even realize it.

And Michaelangelo. There was an innocence and joy and goodness about the smallest turtle that had struck Draxum. Even when he was younger he always wore a smile and liked to see the good side of things. And he idolized his brothers. With him had grown his creative inclinations, filling every colouring book, drawing on every wall, and absolutely plastering the other turtles with stickers. They were a pain to wash off, but Draxum couldn't bring himself to mind it, especially given the elder three always loved their baths. Ironically, it seemed Michealangelo did not, enjoying it only under specific circumstances. Heat, bubble bath, and bath toys had quickly become a necessity. So too did bath crayons, the need to express himself coming through even when bathing. Everything about the ornate box turtle was bright and colourful.

Draxum... loved them. Dearly. Every facet of their personalities and growth. Every unique trait and behavior.

It was terrifying. He couldn't afford to love them. He couldn't afford to see any more goodness in the humanity they showed. He couldn't afford to change his goals right now.

So he continued disregarding the feeling, trying to reason that everything he did for them was to nurture their instincts as warriors, as science experiments, as specimen.

But a pained scream one day, different from any of the ones he heard when they were frightened as infants, when one of them tripped and fell, when a spat led to hitting, sent his heart into his throat and had him racing through doorways with more urgency than he had felt for anything before.

He had demanded an explanation, panic translating to perceived anger, and three of his boys looked up with teary eyes. Three, but Donatello remained curled up on the ground, wailing his little heart out without ever looking up, and it was one of the most heart wrenching, painful sounds Draxum'd ever heard.

Raphael sat not far from the smaller boy, looking over his shoulder seemingly at nothing, at Donatello, then up at Draxum and back again. Both Leonardo and Michaelangelo burst into frantic, panicked explanations, none of their words coherent enough to understand through their tears.

When Raphael stood, exposing red-tipped spikes on his shell and pointing frantically to Donatello's, it didn't take long to figure out well enough what had happened.

It became quickly a very long day. All four turtles were distraught, and though Draxum had more than enough first aid knowledge to address the situation, bile had threatened to rise the very moment he pulled out the suture kit.

The cuts were deep, and jagged. And poor Donatello cried the entire time, even after a numbing agent had been applied.

Draxum had never thought that in depth about Donatello's soft shell. Not like that. He chose a softshell for the experiment because it would provide greater flexibility, greater agility. It gave an advantage that the hard-shelled turtles did not have.

Now, here... The soft carapace, spongy and leathery and bloody...

It was an accident. Of course it was, Draxum never doubted that. He had to assure that none of his boys were in trouble, no one was in trouble, no one had done anything wrong.

But for the first time he had to be honest with himself. For the first time he couldn't deny how much he cared about the turtles. His turtles. His boys.

He wouldn't, either. If this was what it was, if this was something that could happen again because he insisted on making them into warriors, into fighters- if this could happen on purpose, if this could happen worse, if this could happen with malice and hatred in mind...

Draxum wasn't unused to physical affection, by now. All four boys adored hugs, although Donatello was usually more reserved about them. Now, Donatello clung like his life depended on it, sniffling and whimpering, having cried so long he had no more tears. Draxum clung back, idly smoothing over the edges of the bandages, holding the frightened, exhausted turtle to his chest, cradling.

He did so until well after Donatello fell asleep. He couldn't bring himself to put him down. He accompanied the others to bed, assuring them once more that things were alright, and then simply stood in the walkway, holding his boy tightly.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't go through with it. They were children, every bit as innocent and deserving as the Yokai he wished to avenge and protect. He could train them, prepare them to protect themselves, but he could never send them into battle, ask them to put their lives on the line, much less demand it.

How could he?

It took months of processing, of agonizing his way through the healing process with Donatello, of watching the other boys proving their humanity, their curiosity, and their innocence time and time and time again. His mind was constantly at war with itself, his heart constantly in turmoil and distress, worsened by the turtles' confusion at his sudden change in behavior.

What was even worse was that they would.

They would absolutely sacrifice everything they had for his approval, and for what they understood as "right". He could see them, easily, being willing to submit their very lives to a greater cause if he asked it.

But was he "right"? Even if this experiment had gone exactly as planned, was he right for ever considering putting these turtles into the station of a warrior? Even if they had remained turtles in mind, if they never expressed complex emotion, if they could not speak, if they did not have distinct and colourful personalities, would it have been right?

Was what he saw in them now what they would have been at heart, regardless of circumstance?

Or was it the humanity, that he stole from Lou Jitsu?

Perhaps... perhaps it was time to learn. To consider the root of his motivations.

He couldn't do this to them.

How could he?

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise donnie #rise leo #rise raph #rise mikey #baron draxum #rise draxum #rottmnt fanfiction #whump #blood mention #rise lou jitsu #lou jitsu #(only mentioned)#to be honest with you I wrote this on a whim and i don't even really know why I felt inclined to #but I really like it #maybe i just needed to get some thoughts and feelings out #and I think this'd make a REALLY cool AU idea #would anyone want to see more?#if there were interest I think this'd be a lot of fun #lou jitsu stayed with big mama in her Battle Nexus and never met Draxum face to face #Draxum kept the turtles and He's A Good Dad Actually By Accident #he slowly learns to love the turtles like a real father and even to appreciate a bit of humanity through them #and when he finally realizes that he starts questioning his beliefs and morivations #he decides not to make the turtles his warriors because they're his KIDS #and the idea moving forward is that he would find Lou Jitsu and learn about humanity #Lou in turn would have developed a hatred for yokai because of his Bad Times as an unwilling warrior #and we get a whole mess of changed roles and bizarre moral conflicts #threw in the Raph Accidentally Hurt Donnie's Soft Shell When They Were Kids trope #that's a good one hehe

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luckycharms1701 · 8 months ago

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*waddles into your inbox and drops this into you lap before scurrying away*

Hello

Behold my humble offering to the Mikey Well Please Suffer 🧡🫡

Angel Kisses

It was just another day.

You were at the lair, just chilling with MIkey on the couch.

He was scribbling furiously into what looked to be a well warn and obviously well loved sketch book, if the frequently thumbed pages and what seemed like a 100 faded stickers were any indicator.

His tongue was poking out in the corner of his mouth, bleping the way he did when he was working intently at something.

And intent he was.

You watched as his eyes flicked around the page, bright with that rare sense of direct focus as his hand danced over the page with his pencil. he was even humming a little, or maybe it was him just talking to himself.

He did that sometimes when he would get into these “Mikey Mojo Moments” as he called them, and you absentmindedly wondered if that was a subconscious trait he had somehow picked up from hanging around Donnie.

You could never be too sure with this one. He was a wonder through and through. A wonder that you could never quite believe that somehow landed as your best friend.

Your lips quirked up with a soft smile at that thought as you secretly peaked at Mikey from over your phone.

You liked seeing him like this. Happy. Creative. In his element.

It had certainly been a while since he had last hyper focused on an art project. But when he did….whew… it was like magic in action. He just had this…light about him that sort of made him…well…you didn’t know…

It sounded cheesy but he just kind of… glowed.

Your eyes flicked to the little bright spots that decorated Mikey’s face like small yellow freckles that peaked out from underneath his orange mask.

Just like those spots lit up his face, without even trying, Mikey could just light up a room.

There was just something about that sunny smile of his that always made your heart happy. He made you happy. Chasing those rainy skies that often would cloud into your life with that ever bright sunshine of his.

You loved it. You loved him.

Whether platonically or romantically, you really didn’t know. You really didn’t care either. All you knew was that you wanted him in your life anyway you could have him because it was brighter simply because he was now in it.

So lost in your musings, you hadn’t realized that Mikey had somehow become aware of your attention. Might be due to the fact that you were burning holes into the sides of his head with your gaze. Or maybe it was the fact that he had ADHD, and he caught ahold of more than what meets the eye.

Who knows? Turtle was a ninja. A ninja who was now grinning like a cat before the cream in front of you.

“See something that you like, Clementine?” Mikey all but purred to you with a teasing waggle of his eyebrows.

You blinked in surprise as his words broke you from your revelry, a slight heat coming to your cheeks as you realized that you most indubitably had been caught staring. Directly at him.

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had in fact caught you, you cleared your throat and placed your phone down.

“Actually yeah…” You quirked back at him, placing an elbow on the back of the couch, so you could cradle your head with your palm with a soft smirk. “I was thinking how cute your freckles are.”

It was Mikey’s turn to blink as your comment was obviously not what he was expecting.

“My…freckles?” He echoed dumbly, placing his sketchbook down and turning to you, his head tilted in such a way that you were somewhat reminded of a curious puppy.

You chuckled softly at the mental image and nodded with a soft grin, reaching up to gently trace those little sunspots on Mikey’s face with your finger.

“Mhm. They’re super cute, and I’m jealous. I’ve always wanted freckles.”

Mikey froze the instant your finger touched his face, his baby blues widening comically to the size of dinner plates.

Mikey had always been a very affectionate turtle, that was no question. Hugs, cuddles, hand holding, playing with hair, painting fingernails, you named it, he did it.

Well…that was the problem. In this case at least. He did it. Usually he was the one to always initiate with you warming up and reciprocating only after he started.

This was the first time you had ever touched him first, and in a way that was so…so…Mikey didn’t have a word for it, but he knew in that moment he didn’t want it to stop.

He swallowed a little as he felt the tip of your finger slowly trace his “freckles” as you called them with that unfairly adorable smile. That smile paired with that soft look in your eye made his heart skip a beat, and Mikey absentmindedly found himself leaning in a little closer to your touch.

“You…wanted freckles?” He murmured curiously, feeling that a moment like this needed to be treated with a whisper for whatever reason.

You chuckled again and nodded your head, a most darling shade of pink crossing your cheeks as Mikey leaned into your hand. You changed from gently poking his forehead with your finger to tenderly cupping his cheek with your palm, lightly caressing a “freckle” on the corner of his jaw with your thumb.

“Yeah…I always thought they looked so pretty. Small smackerings on the bridges of peoples noses. Dark spots like cheetahs on others. Or even the ones that are so tiny they look little stars on peoples faces, peeping through the skin. I once heard freckles described as angel kisses, little reminders of a love that couldn’t be contained and well…as cheesy as it sounds…I really haven’t been able to see them any other way since.”

A muscle thumped in Mikey’s jaw as your thumb brushed up against the sensitive skin there and he had to resist the urge to just lean into your hand and start churring like some ridiculous reptilian cat, it’s just felt so good. He shook off the shiver that travels down his shell and blinked up at you with his signature crooked grin.

“Angel kissed huh? You’re right. That is cheesy, but lucky for you, I love pizza so cheese totally is my jam.”

You snorted at that and reached up your hand to poke Mikey’s forehead with a shake of your head.

“Cheese is your jam? What you making sandwiches or something up there, Mikey Man?”

Mikey snickered at the poke and reached up to capture your hand with his, holding it tightly as he smirked up at you. There was an interesting light in his eyes as he caught your gaze directly. It seemed friendly and innocent enough at first glance, but the way he held it had you leading to believe otherwise.

That look was dangerous because it made your heart do that weird skip hop thing like a drunken frog attempting to land a jump onto a lily pad, but before you could further that thought, Mikey interrupted with his own.

His head tilted at that doglike angle again and he leaned in with his all too eager curiosity.

“What can I say? I’m always in the mood for a good snack. But, back to the angel kisses thing. You got me curious now. If you could have freckles where would you want them most?”

You blinked a little at Mikey’s question, and sat back a little, tilting your own head in thought. Your free hand that wasn’t being held captive by Mikey’s reached up and lightly touched the bridge of your nose and the tops of your cheeks.

“Huh…that’s…actually a good question. Probably somewhere around here? Gimme that cute look that you have working so well for you or something.”

Mikey sputtered at the light flirt and shook his head with a grin. He rather adored how quick you were. It meant you were comfortable with him and that alone meant the world to him.

He looked up at you as you traced your own face, that same gleam shining in his eye. Mikey leaned in a little closer and said with a raise of his eyebrow, “You know…I could probably help with that…”

Your brows furrowed as you looked at Mikey incredulously before your eyes widened and you excitedly grabbed his hand and leaned closer.

“You…can help me get freckles? Wait…is that something you can do with your ninpo?!”

Mikey was not expecting you to lean in as close as you did, but he wasn’t complaining. Not at all.

He’d never get sick of getting to see the little masterpieces that were your eyes up close like this. Mikey could get lost in those eyes if you let him.

Shaking his head to clear that train of thought, Mikey just smirked up at you.

“Hmm something like that…I was thinking more along the lines of…angel kisses and what not.”

It was your turn to parrot back dumbly as your eyebrow raised in confusion, your heart picking up pace from a drunken frog to buzzed hummingbird.

“A-angel kisses?” You stammered especially as Mikey leaned in even closer, his nose almost brushing yours.

His hand reached up to cup your cheek in mirror of your movements just moments earlier. That bright rare sense of direct focus now centered solely on you as he leaned in even more, his warm breath barely ghosting over your face as he whispered in a low murmur.

“Yes…angel kisses…because I do put the angel in Michealangelo after all…”

@yorshie @justalotoffanfiction

#ANON-CHAN #YOU BEAUTIFUL HUMAN BEING YOU #i’m squealing and kicking my feet #this was SO cute #i loved every bit of it #‘mikey mojo moments’ i’m screaming #i also refer to freckles as angel kisses because my mom did and this makes me so soft #he’s so fucking cheesy oh my god i love it i love Him #thank you so much for this contribution to the mikey well we will feast today #and thank you from me because i really needed this today #excellent motivation to finish this raph fic so i can write the next chapter of sunshine #tmnt #rise mikey #rise mikey x reader #aughhhhhh it’s so goodddddd #fave #long post

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