#mikey scrawls

[turtlecleric]

Bay!Mikey x reader, soulmate au - ink on your skin is mirrored on theirs until it’s wiped off

Cws: implied/referenced self-harm

-

You’d heard about the butterfly project online somewhere. It had felt silly, at first, to think they might actually help, but… you were getting a little bit desperate. So you’d bought some markers. Locked your door. Pulled the fabric of your shorts down so they’d bunch up close to your hips. And started drawing.

Now that you’re done, you’re surprised to find that you really, really like them. You’ve drawn them tiny, with little rounded wings and splashes of your favorite colors. They actually make you smile, and it’s been a long time since you’ve been able to do that while looking at your legs. 

You wonder if he’ll ask you about them. He often sends little messages your way, written on your forearm. Maybe if you stare at your arm long enough, you’ll see his messy scrawl appear. Something like, “Oh, so you like butterflies? My favorite kind are the ones you give me!”

God. You can’t believe you miss a person you haven’t even met yet. 

For the millionth time, you wonder what he looks like. What he sounds like. It doesn’t really matter, since you already know the things that do matter. You know that he’s kind. And funny. And excited to meet you one day.

…So why hasn’t he? You’re not sure what he’s waiting for. You’ve asked him multiple times to meet up, but there’s always something that comes up. 

Maybe… maybe it’s you. Maybe he can tell that you’re… but no, that doesn't make sense. He really does seem like he likes talking to you. Like he wants to meet you one day. It’s only been a few months since your soul ink started to appear, and some soulmates go years before they meet up for the first time.

You hope you don’t have to wait that long. 

Sighing, you brush a thumb along the wings of one of the butterflies. It had seemed so pretty at first, but now… you can’t help but stare at the lines visible beneath the ink.

You try to focus back on the butterflies.

You’d been proud of them. Thought they were cute. Thought that maybe he might find them cute, too. But the longer you stare, the more you wonder if he might not find them cute. What if he’s… annoyed. That you drew all over yourself without consulting him first. He has to deal with this, too, after all. They’re in an easy to hide place, but still. Maybe you should have asked his permission. Maybe you should have been more considerate of the possibility that he might not want to have his thighs covered in little butterflies. The project isn’t a one night deal, either. You have to keep drawing them back on, you can’t let the butterflies fade until the urges fade. It’s been years at this point - did you really think this was a good idea? Trying this method when you have your soulmate to think about? What if he hates them? What if he hates people who might need something like this? What if he knows about the butterfly project, and seeing this is the last straw, and he never speaks to you ag-

You inhale sharply at the sight of blank ink blooming in one of the empty spaces on your thigh. Mesmerized, you watch as the ink curls and glides, slowly but surely, into a picture.

A flower. 

Another one appears in the empty space between two other butterflies. Your hand raises to cover your mouth as you watch more and more appear. It’s calming, watching them swirl into existence. Some are tiny, delicate things. Others are large enough for little details. Shadows and textures, leaves and stems and… wow. 

You hadn’t realized he was an artist. There’s no way he isn’t, with how breathtaking these flowers are. And he’d just… he’d just done it, like it was nothing. Turned your skin into a work of art in less than 15 minutes. Somehow taken your pathetic little butterflies and woven them into a complete piece that you could stare at for hours and not get bored. 

It’s incredible.

You feel like you should… say something. You grab a marker and hesitate, unsure, before deciding on just being honest with him.

They’re beautiful!

It takes only a moment before you see him start to write back. It’s a little funny, seeing his chicken scratch and then glancing over to the beautiful pieces of art that he’s turned your legs into. Just another thing about him that makes you smile. But when you see his response, your smile drops.

Beautiful flowers for my beautiful girl

You’re not sure why that makes you start to cry. He’s called you beautiful before. Not that he could possibly mean it - you haven’t met yet, you haven’t even exchanged last names or numbers or anything, but… something about it feels… genuine. Genuine in a way that it really shouldn’t be. How could he mean that when he has no clue what you look like? Surely he wouldn’t say that if he did know, I mean, look at you.

But. Somehow. Somehow. You know he means it. 

You grab a wipe from your bedside table, clearing your first message from your arm. His words disappear, as well, and part of you mourns the physical proof of those words, but then he starts to- oh my god. He’s writing down a phone number. It’s- it’s got to be his phone number, right? What else could it be? You don’t have long to wonder, because then you see another message appear. 

If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you. Don’t kill the butterflies, okay?

Don’t kill the butterflies. He knows. He knows. And he still- he still wants to talk to you. 

You shouldn’t call him right now. You’re an emotional mess. It’s late, too, and you have no idea if he has to be up early tomorrow. But. But you- he finally gave you- and you just- you just-

Your hands shake as you dial the number. How could you not call him now? How could you possibly wait another second to finally hear his voice? How could you-

“Hey sunshine,” he says - and, oh. His voice. His voice makes you smile so hard your cheeks start to hurt. Sunshine, he’d called you. Fitting, you think, since it suddenly feels like you’ve swallowed the sun and rays are surely shining through the spaces between your ribs. “I’m glad you called.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, sniffling and tracing one of the bigger flowers with a finger. “Me too.”

-

tag list: @luckycharms1701 @yorshie @thejudiciousneurotic @khayalli @justalotoffanfiction @thelaundrybitch @mxalmighty @shakeyourtrees

[crackedpumpkin]

Hi! May I request rottmnt turtles (separately) meeting a reader who has Spiderman abilities and they show up randomly, to give the turtle a gift, then leaves without saying anything?

Hello anon! I hope you enjoy this, I've been struggling to write for Donnie, Raph, and Mikey since I don't know their characters that well yet :") Regardless though, I hope this is alright!

His swords clatter to the ground, looking around in disbelief once he spots the neatly wrapped box on the table beside him.

"Wha- When??"

Leonardo turns in a circle, eyes darting to check every corner of the room he's in. He picks up the box nervously, reading the tag attached to it.

'Saw this and thought you might like it.'

Your familiar handwriting is messily scrawled onto the paper, and he chuckles before holding the box up to his ear, giving it a shake. It rattles, and he hums in curiosity.

When did you even get here? He wonders, untying the ribbon on the box and opening the lid. Once his eyes land on the item inside, he gasps excitedly, almost squealing.

He picks up the comic, almost too afraid to hold it as his fingers brush against the front cover of the first Jupiter Jim comic, still in its original sleeve! Oh, he'd recognize the art anywhere.

It's a national treasure, well, in his opinion, anyway. But how on earth did you even get it?

Maybe you knew the vigilante that helped stop a robbery at the comic book museum in which the comic is stored. If so, he has got to connect with them through you.

"Okay, who took my tools?" Donnie looks around with narrowed eyes, scanning his lab with an annoyed sigh. Did his brothers wander in and decide to distract him once again with their shenanigans?

However, he spots his tools decorating the wall, laid out in some form of abstract art as they stick to some form of spiderweb. He walks over with a skeptical gaze, staring at the box between them.

He taps his chin in thought, deciding whether or not to open the unfamiliar object until he sees a piece of paper with messily written words on his desk. He picks it up, scanning it with raised brows.

'Hey smartass, Happy birthday or whatever, thought you might enjoy it.'

He gasps, looking back at the box that contains his gift. "For me??" He all but squeals, grabbing it and taking off the lid. His eyes widen in disbelief, filling with pure, adulterated joy as he lifts up a warm purple jacket, a broad grin on his lips in place of his usual refined bad-boy demeanour.

"Oh, I love it!!" He gushes, immediately putting it on and feeling the soft fabric settling on his arms as he does a quick spin to admire it. He doesn't even care about how he'll get his tools off the wall, with the web fluid only dissolving in two to three hours.

You eye the turtle sitting on the couch with his comic book, grinning as you secure the teddy bear in your grasp. You had spotted him eyeing it last time you went online shopping, and of course, you had to get it for your friend.

You slowly crawl down the wall, the bare skin of your fingertips practically glueing you to the hard brick. You make your way down to him, tapping his shoulder from behind. He turns in surprise. "Yo, what's up, Y/n?"

You stifle a chuckle before pulling out the teddy bear from where you position it behind your back, and the comic book slides out of his hands as his jaw drops. "Is that-"

You nod, handing it to him.

He gingerly takes it from your grasp, eyes already watering before he hugs it tightly. "Thanks, Y/n! You're the best!"

You give him a silent yet playful salute, crawling back up the wall as he continues to gush over his gift.

"Ouch!" Mikey groans, landing hard on his face as the shattered remains of his skateboard fall to pieces around him. You gasp, hurrying over to where he cradles the broken remains with eyes full of despair.

You rub his back in sympathy before an idea occurs to you. You had bought his present a couple months early, and maybe it was the perfect time to give it to him.

You crane your neck. Where had you put it…? You recall hiding it in a tight spot between a shelf and other stuff in the lair, spotting it peeking out from the wedge. You aim and fire some web fluid at it, and it attaches itself to the gift wrapping before you tug it toward the both of you.

It lands safely in your hands, and you offer it to Mikey, who glances at it curiously. He sniffles, taking it from you and hesitates, only to open it after you nod encouragingly. He inhales sharply, lighting up when he unwraps it to reveal a brand new Skate3000 skateboard, looking at you in glee.

"Is this real?" He smiles cheesily, wrapping you up in an unexpected hug before whooping and scurrying up the ramp's edge to try it out. You watch with a smile but gather your things to leave when you remember you have a class in ten minutes.

"Thanks, Y/n! You're the best!" He shouts from behind you, and you smile and shrug in response, glad he likes your gift.

[afreakingdork]

Writing Request: OC x Donnie Past Mementos 🗝️

Choo-choo, I'm a chug-chug-chugging down this request train, next up we got @celestialiron with their OC, Kira, and Mr. Donatello himself.

From now until the poll closes, if you can prove to me that you voted Hassan/Mikey in this poll then I will do any short story writing request like the one below or draw you any doodle of your choosing!

ᴰᶦˢᶜˡᵃᶦᵐᵉʳ: ᴵ ᵃᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸ ᵃˢˢᵒᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ᵉⁿᵈᵒʳˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉᵗᶦᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵒʳ ᶦᵗˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˢ.

Sweet, established all ages relationship doting below:

"Alrighty!" Donnie heaved another box out from an overstuffed closet and set it on the floor. "I believe with that, we have excavated all the fossils you have been storing."

"Thanks for your help." Kira responded where she was looking through a box.

"Give and take, my darling!" He chirped and danced around the plethora of boxes. "You helped me tidy my lab and I'm obliged to help with cleaning of your own."

"We're looking for photographs." She reminded him.

"Yes, of course." He was very clearly not convinced. "Totally not getting rid of some of these old and unnecessary artifacts."

She quieted and sent him a look as she held a letter to her chest.

A letter he had written.

One that was only a few lines when he had given her a wrench set after he found she only had one adjustable one.

It was a scrawl about how hers was unsuitable.

It was more.

Just like him, whenever he was cold, it was always calculated. He was both startlingly honest, but also self conscious to a fault. The two personality traits were often at odds with each other, but she had long seen through them. She had watched his tangible growth from meeting him to dating him and these mementos represented each step he had taken in loving her.

She cherished them as much as him.

"Shall I start on a box over here?" He prattled off as he sensed his mistake.

"Sure. Anything that looks like old family photos." She tucked the letter amongst other leaflets and continued her search.

"I hope to find some of your baby pictures before you do."

"Donnie!" She protested though her tail swayed with affection.

He caught the move and felt he had rectified the situation as he opened a container.

For a short time, they fell into a groove of shuffling articles.

Then Donnie snorted a single sharp time.

Kira was reading an old supplies list from The Fiery Troupe when he ear twitched in his direction.

He said nothing more, but she felt compelled to glance.

He sat there waiting with a key chain dangling from his fingers.

"You still have this?" He tried to keep his guffaw down.

"Of course!" She tried to snatch it from him, but he held it higher.

"This is junk! It's embarrassing! I bought this for you...!" His eyes darted. "Oh...!" He wilted with the memory. "Before we started dating. I don't know why I thought this would impress you. Some random bauble in comparison to your beauty!"

The word junk hit her swiftly.

His thoughts on the time being embarrassing struck her next.

Is that what he thought of their early years?

They had never really discussed it in that way.

For her those were precious memories.

She had finally began to emerge from her shell and learn that the world had joy once again. Where he was ashamed of this trinket, she had kept it safe in this box with the rest of her memories. The day he had given it to her was precious. She had friends prior, but Donatello had always held a special place in her heart. She had fumbled her friendship with him early on, but they had only grown stronger for it. Him buying her this gift, some key chain or not, was representative of that foundation.

She was worthy.

He would be there.

He was making light of her memories again.

The thought chilled to the the point that her tail came swishing around her folded legs.

He should have known.

He should have known that was all she had.

For everything she had suffered, each one of these items grounded her. They reminded her there was more. From the inside jokes coded into group messages to birthday cards, they were tangible forms of the times she had. In many ways, they were the final existence of happier times and knowing that not everything was doomed, that there had been pockets of joy, had helped keep her going more than once.

She stood straight up with her eyes on the floor.

"Kira...?" She felt Donnie shift where he was still on the ground.

She shot him a single look.

She refused to let the tears fall.

She saw it in his face.

They sharpened her icy glare.

In a single glance she sent him all her displeasure with his attitude before she turned and ran.

"Kira!"

He screamed out after her, but she was in motion.

He could catch her.

It was his trackers and goggles.

She also long knew enough to evade them.

When she needed to tuck into peace.

When she fell back on old habits that kept her safe.

She ran.

She needed that moment to herself.

That moment to breathe.

Twisting far from the apartment and doubling back to confuse his sensors, she broke through one empty building out out multiple hallways until she found an alcove that was easy to miss. This was it.

A dirty decrepit room that was perfect.

She slunk inside and curled up with her tailed tucked around her.

When she was young she would hold it if she could get a grip on it.

A soothing mechanism, just as this was.

Self isolation to keep one safe.

If she was alone then no one could leave her. If she was here then she couldn't know something else inevitably got hurt. If she stayed then she would never have to deal with that burden.

She would be shielded.

She sank into her own fur and her own scent.

There was Donnie there.

Her scent was not longer fully her own.

It hadn't been in years.

Cohabitation and trading products.

Sleeping in bed and early morning cuddles.

Long days hold one another.

Notes of flowers from her shop.

The bitter essence of medicinal herbs.

Donatello.

He was as much a part of her as those memories.

He was etched not into her fur, but her skin.

He was more than just that keychain.

He was more than her thoughts.

She carried him.

She hiccuped on the thought.

She carried him in her heart.

Just as she did all her loved ones.

She unfurled for a breath.

Time changed her too.

Long ago she used to disappear for weeks on end when she ran.

That shortened to days.

Which shortened to a few hours.

She wasn't sure how long it had been this time, but it as at least the same day.

She didn't feel better, but she did feel like going back.

Back to her home.

Back to her memories.

Back to her heart.

She wondered if she could get away with it, she wondered as she got onto her paws. She sort of hoped he might let her little outburst slide so she wouldn't have to burden him. They could quietly carry on in searching for the photos and he wouldn't bring up trashing her belongings again. They'd have a nice dinner and that would be good enough. They would move on and he would carry that this was not a territory she wanted trifled with.

That was progress and she crept long the hallway.

Etchings on the walls greeted her as she passed.

They were memories of their own of when this building was more.

Eviction notices and graffiti.

Tales of hiding away and trying to disappear.

They weren't healthy reminders.

There was a difference, she decided as she got out into the open air.

The mementos she kept were ones that brought about happy memories. She didn't keep the ones that brought about ilk. It might have been hard from someone outside the sphere of her head to notice that and she could acknowledge that was something she forgot. The two of them moved with such cohesion these days, she forgot Donnie couldn't read her mind.

He was being his usually dry, sarcastic self.

He had said that thing about being compared to her beauty.

Her cheeks were warm as she returned to their apartment.

It was a drop down and she expertly slipped through the window she had fled from.

It was still open.

It was her invitation.

Waiting for her to return.

Please come back; I'm here.

She only looked up from the dim bedroom to see something very obviously laying on the ground in the doorway. She padded over to it with a tilting head and found it to be an old Run of the Mill leaflet. She had grabbed it from her first trip to the restaurant with the brothers to remember the night they had all gone out.

She immediately spied something else.

Another memento, this time from a few months after the pizza place for a play Mikey had helped out in.

She had highlighted his name in the program so she would never forget who she had gone there for.

There was more.

A photo was next, one from one of those overpriced booths.

Everyone had piled it and most of pictures were blurry, but she adored them.

The trail continued.

It was a walk through her relationship with Donatello.

The memories conjured were a step wise process.

She was getting closer to him as she collected bits and soon found the keychain laying propped up with a new origami heart. When she turned it over, it had been stamped with the date along with a note that said 'the day Donnie apologized yet again.'

She puffed a watery laugh at that before continuing on.

She wound through their apartment and found all the boxes were cleaned and stowed.

She had a feeling who was at the end of it all, but she let herself move slowly through first dates and first kisses.

Their hearts drew closer and closer, until she was nearing the kitchen and Donnie ducked a little too obviously behind the counter.

There were only a few more pieces.

A cute napkin from a place that had crepes.

A program from a dine and watch movie.

Last week when she perfectly peeled a sticker off a package that Donnie had ordered.

It was innocuous, but it was cute.

It was stuck to her finger when she rounded the counter.

He didn't bother getting up and instead was bowed down in apology. "Kira."

"It's okay..." She moved to meet him.

"No." He cupped around her hand and mementos. "You've never made fun of what was important to me. I shouldn't have done that to you. I just... hate thinking about how I used to be. So dramatic."

She gave him a sly look that said he still was.

He gave a guilty grin before he softened. "What you've collected is amazing. Things I barely remember. Things I don't know if they mean anything, I don't think I even got everything that suitably represents us, but I did my best to construct our timeline. I'm glad we did it. Every second."

She nodded and the weepy nature was back, but she was trying to shake it free.

He pulled her close. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you."

"I found the photos too. They're on the counter."

Kira chuckled. "Good."

"Do you...?"

He didn't continue and she looked up at him.

"... still want to make more... with me, I mean?"

"Always." She told him with full certainty and leaned up to meet him in a kiss.

[misteria247]

What's this something different ohmigosh????? Here's something from the Actor AU I mentioned a time or two whoop-

The thing that inspired Rise Mikey to pursue an acting career was an incident that had happened when he'd been in kindergarten/1st grade. The box shell turtle at the time had been somewhat bullied by his fellow classmates due to his teeth and the small gap in them. Many times Rise Mikey would come home from school to Rise Splinter, hiccupping and sniffling from the hurtful words that he'd hear from the other human, yokai and mutant children. The older rat always comforting the small child five/six year old boy to the best of his abilities. His brothers would also do their best to help Rise Mikey feel better from the awful day he'd experience.

It was after one of those typical days of Rise Mikey coming home in tears that would send him on his way towards becoming the next ninja turtle.

Rise Splinter wasn't home at the time, instead leaving Rise Raph in charge of the kids while he went to run an errand. Rise Raph had scooped Rise Mikey up while Rise Donnie went to get his baby brother something to snack on and Rise Leo had went into the living room to get the TV on and find something for his baby brother to watch and take his mind off of his terrible day. It was after the four boys had settled down into the living room and had been surfing through the channels when Rise Mikey's attention had been caught by a show he'd never heard of.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Curiosity and a catchy theme song had made the youngest turtle beg for their group to watch it and it was left on without much fuss. It was during this moment that Rise Mikey's life would change forever. As the boy watched the show, being sucked into the story of four brothers and their beloved rat sensei that Rise Mikey saw it. One of the teenagers, a purple clad turtle who was the genius amongst his brothers named Donatello (12 Donnie), had smiled on the screen in excitement revealing his teeth.

A gap between said teeth stared right back at Rise Mikey leaving him stunned.

This hero, 12 Donnie had a gap in his teeth. Just like Rise Mikey.

That moment changed everything. When the show had ended and Rise Splinter had came home with a pizza in his hands, Rise Mikey had literally charged at his father. Talking a mile a minute about the cool purple turtle with the gap in his teeth and how he wanted to meet him immediately. Rise Splinter after calming his chipper son down had to explain to him that it wasn't necessarily easy to meet an actor from a TV show. However Rise Mikey could write a fan letter to the actor. So with a pip in his step, the box turtle brought out his best crayons and paper and in messy, childish writing began to write his letter. Rise Donnie and Rise Raph had helped him with spelling and grammar, while Rise Splinter and Rise Leo searched up the P.O. box for the show's cast. After much effort and with extra love and care, Rise Mikey eagerly waited for a letter to return to him.

When the letter arrived at the studio the purple clad teen had been a bit startled to receive a letter from someone so young. 12 Donnie had been careful when he'd opened the envelope, noting the child like drawings and scrawl. When he saw the contents of the letter a small, slightly saddened but touched smile came on his face. Once he'd been done reading it 12 Donnie placed the letter gently back into its envelope, and pulled out his own pen and paper. He ignored the sounds of 12 Raph and 12 Mikey's play fighting coming from the room next to his and focused on writing back to his number one fan.

When Rise Mikey got a letter back the child had been over the moon and practically bounced off the walls as he waited for Rise Splinter to open it and read it to him. It's contents was full of thanks for the letter, and how 12 Donnie was glad that he had a small companion who had a gap in his teeth as well. It told Rise Mikey that having a gap wasn't terrible and that a lot of people had them, including heroes. And it told him that one day, sometime in the far future 12 Donnie would love to meet his gap tooth pen pal. Rise Mikey as soon as he heard this had become dead set on meeting his fellow gap tooth friend. Years passed, and along with them letters exchanged between the two turtles continued on. Rise Mikey treasured each one, happy that he had someone who could give him advice on dealing with the bullying over his gap and to just talk to. And then finally one day it happened.

An announcement of a new Tmnt show was made.

And with it came auditions for the parts of the turtles.

Rise Mikey didn't hesitate to sign up, his brothers of course signing up as well as they too grew an interest in acting. It'd be during those auditions that Rise Mikey would get the surprise of his life when he realized that the people who would be overseeing the tryouts were none other than the 12 gang, now in their mid twenties who would decide on who would be the next ninja turtles. When Rise Mikey got the part he'd received one last letter from 12 Donnie, one that made him smile brightly with his gap showing for the whole world to see as he packed his bags to move with his family to be closer to the studio-

'Told you heroes have gaps in their teeth. Can't wait to see you and your brothers on set! -Your gap tooth pal, Dee.'

[daydreamgoddess14]

Aspirations pt. 2

Sydcarmy Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Sydney Adamu / Carmy Berzatto - getting a little spicier this chapter but we're not quite there... yet 👀

Syd is 12 months deep in a crush she wasn't expecting, Carmy is 6 months into a relationship he doesn't want, The Bear is 4 months open and Nat is 2 months into motherhood....

~~~~~~

They’d come far in the 7 months since The Beef had closed and The Bear had started. The three month build period and all of its associated problems had also brought them closer as a crew and allowed many to flourish. Syd could hand on heart say that she and Richie got on better than ever - for the most part - and she and Carmy had only grown in confidence when working together. They spoke without saying a word, she’d only been half joking when she’d told him she couldn’t read his mind. She could read his working mind. They completed each other's sentences, anticipated each other's needs and had whole conversations with just one look. As Carmy had driven off down the alley to get Richie, aside from being utterly blindsided by his kiss - which he didn’t even appear to realize he’d done - she was terrified over doing a whole day without his input or quiet reassurance. Somehow on opening night, just knowing he was stuck in the walk-in was enough, she could still hear him hollering and banging. Today, she wouldn’t have that. She needn’t have been worried.

“Baby Jeff, c’mere - I got ya something.” Tina ushered her over when she’d finally convinced her legs to carry her back inside. She held up a small paper bag and watched with delight as Sydney opened it. It was a beautiful patterned silk scarf with purples, blues and fuschia pinks.

“T, what’s this for? I can’t take this -”

“You can mi niña - look,” Tina showed Syd the same scarf she’d tied neatly at her neck. “We’re a team - me and you, and we’re gonna fuckin’ kill it today - ya hear me?” Before Syd could clear the lump in her throat, Tina had her arms around her and lifted her clean off the floor.

“Thank you, Chef. Thank you.” She murmured, placing a kiss on Tina’s cheek. 

“También te amo cariño” The elder woman filled in, squeezing Sydney’s cheek. Syd quickly swapped the scarves over and assessed where they were with prep, clocking Nat in the office. She left Tina to check in with Ebra, and hovered in the doorway,

“You good, Nat?” Though Nat had been around since Mikey had been born, doing the weekly books and for general fleeting visits, she’d not done a full shift at work so far.

“I cried all the way here. This is the longest I’ve left -” she broke off with a sob, Syd by her side immediately taking her hands,

“I know, big day. We got you, ok?”

“What if I need to pump and we’re busy?”

“Then we’ll figure it out. I promise we’ve got you.” Syd told her, “I put some paper up on the window so you can have total privacy. I can’t offer you peace and quiet, but I can make sure no one comes in. I even put a ‘please knock’ sign up.” She held the door so that Natatlie could see the sign, which didn’t read please knock, it read ‘you better fucking knock’ in scrawled sharpie. Nat gave her a grateful, watery smile.

“Thank you, Syd.”

“I gotta get back out there, you gonna be ok?” Nat nodded in confirmation. Back at the expo, Syd felt her phone buzz in her back pocket and pulled it out to see a text from Richie.

fuckin’ kill it Syd

Thanks man - we will!

She fired off a quick reply and got back to work. It felt good, the original Beef team having her back. They threw the word ‘love’ around like breathing, actively telling each other regularly. It had started with Nat and Tina, and after years of a lack of real female company or support system, they soon had Syd doing it as well. She’d stopped short of saying it to Carmy. Tina and Nat had plenty enough to go around, and the last thing she needed was that word muddying the waters - even if they did all know it was meant in the familial sense. She stood next to Marcus and helped him prep peaches, needing to ground herself in actual hands on work. Once they were caught up, she moved on to review with Tina,

“10 minutes til doors, guys.”

“Yes, Chef.” Natalie came out from the office and stood alongside her, giving her hand a squeeze.

“We do this, we’ve earned a girls night.” She concluded.

“Yeah? We just take off and leave Richie and Carm to it?”

“Fuck yes, I’ll even donate Pete for reinforcements since he can’t survive without you.”

“Richie is getting better - we only fight every other day now.” “I meant Carmy, dickwad.” She rolled her eyes. “Right, let’s go?” Syd nodded,

“Let it rip.”

“Love you, Chef.” Nat gave her hand one final squeeze and pushed through the swing doors to unlock. 

*

It went perfectly. Syd, Nat and Tina were on cloud nine during clean down. Music blared and they sent Sweeps to the bodega down the street with strict instructions to come back with wine. By midnight, everyone had left for the day except Syd and Nat who’d taken up their usual table in the restaurant. Nat sat with her feet up on Syd’s lap and they both nursed tall stemmed glasses of wine. 

“I’m so fucking tired.” Nat mumbled sleepily.

“Don’t drive, I’ll book you an Uber.” Syd reached for her phone and went to pull up the app, seeing a message from Carmy as she did so.

22:25 Fak said you’re the dream team. Told me not to bother coming in Monday?

She booked a ride for Nat and was about to respond to the message when they heard the back door.

“You’re still here.” Richie grinned through the window from the kitchen,

“Syd’s just got me a ride, I can’t drive back.” 

“I’ll take you.” Carmy followed closely behind Richie.

“I’ll take the Uber for myself then.” Syd smiled, happy to not have to consider the L for a change. “How’d it go?” 

“No complaints. You?” Richie pulled up a chair the other side of Syd and nudged her,

“No complaints. Less shouting.” She ribbed him.

“You missed me. Both of us, I bet.” He pointed,

“Keep telling yourselves that.” Syd replied with a glint, catching Carmy’s eye over Richie’s shoulder. She'd managed to put the kiss to the back of her mind all day, grateful for once that he hadn't been around to remind her of it every passing second. Outside, the Uber made itself known. “C’mon mama, home time.” She moved Nat’s feet carefully from her lap and pulled her friend to standing. “I’ll swing by and clear this up in the morning.” She gestured around her at the couple of glasses. 

"Monday, we'll do it Monday." Carmy confirmed. Nat grabbed her bags while Richie went to lock up the back. 

“We missed you little brother, but fuuuuck we were so good!” Even through exhaustion, Natalie sounded jubilant, "you shoulda seen us!"

“I knew you would be.” He replied with a smile, eyes on Syd.

“See, you were stressing for nothing. Like Fak said, we’re the dream team,” she shrugged, trying not to crumble under the intensity of his gaze. “I gotta go before this Uber driver murders me cos I took too fuckin long. See you guys later, bye Rich,” she called out to the kitchen.

“See ya, Syd.” She tried to leave with just a wave but Nat pulled her into a bear hug,

“You were amazing! Can we do girls night next week?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Get some sleep, Nat.” The women parted and Syd found herself swept up by Richie instead, coming in from the kitchen. She moved to give Carmy a one-armed hug but he wrapped around her fully.

“Thank you for today,” he said quietly into her ear. 

“Night, Carm.” She tried to play it off like the open door and the cool fall air made her shiver, rather than his breath against her neck. Once she was in the car, she let out the breath she’d been holding. She held her phone in her hands, a habit picked up from years of needing to fake phone calls when being driven around late at night by a stranger. It vibrated in her hands with a picture and a message from Nat.

Home to my baby, thank you for looking after me today ❤

My favorite Berzattos - anything for you xo

Favorite. Sure, sure. ILY.

She shook her head with a smile. Her bond with Natalie had become one of the most surprising yet brilliant things to happen since she walked into the tomato splattered kitchen and saw a pile of cash on the floor. They fell into an easy friendship, and soon enough, Carmy wasn’t the only thing they had in common. She thanked the driver and stepped out of the car, her phone going off again. Carmy.

You get back ok?

Just got in. Going to sleep for 12h, eat, and then sleep again.

Her message got a thumbs up in response, and she wasted no time in doing exactly as she said she would.

*

When she stirred on Monday morning, it wasn’t to the sound of her alarm. She had no idea what had woken her, but it was early enough to still be dark outside. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she first assumed she'd had a nightmare. She took deep breaths to settle herself, trying to remember the dream. She'd been at work, in the walk-in - locked in like Carmy had been on opening night, but she hadn't been alone - and she'd locked it herself. She had her back pressed up against the cold door and Carmy crowding her, with one hand on her hip and the other at the nape of her neck. He was whispering in her ear something she couldn't quite make out, but the memory of how it had made her feel was all coming back. The way his lips had grazed her skin, his encouraging kiss. She closed her eyes and let her memory and her hand wander, wishing she could remember his words. She focused on how his hands had felt, fingertips finding the hem of her t-shirt and the delicious warmth of his palm on her breast. She nudged her underwear to one side and ghosted her index finger over her clit, 'I want to give you everything,' he'd said, 'you don't know what you do to me'. The dream was fading fast, leaving her tense and desperately seeking release. Her fingers moved on autopilot, she'd been single for a long time, knew the most efficient ways to get herself off, but it's just not… working. She couldn’t get there, thoughts of Carmy are too fresh in her mind, and it's like her body knows she could never come close to comparison by her own hand, so stubbornly gives up instead. With a groan of frustration, she threw back the covers and decided to head to work instead. She picked up breakfast on the way - sticky, sweet Portuguese tarts and fresh coffee beans. Surprisingly, she's not the first one there. The restaurant had been cleared of the wine glasses and plates she and Nat had used on Saturday, and music played from the radio in the kitchen. 

"You're early," he greeted, "I was making breakfast."

"Couldn't sleep. What'dya make?"

"Eggs benedict. What's in the bag?"

"Portuguese tarts." He took it from her and replaced it with her coffee cup, "breakfast dessert. Thank you."

"Every meal comes with its own dessert?" He grinned, 

"Now that's the dream." They ate while standing at the expo, she begrudgingly admitted that his hollandaise sauce was the best she'd ever had, and it had made him cocky until the Portuguese tarts had finally shut him up. Neither of them mentioned the kiss.

"How traditional do you want it to be?" He asked, bringing up the festive menu.

"Is it Scroogey to say not at all?" She mused, taping her pen against her mouth. 

"The holidays aren't exactly my favorite time of year, so I'm gonna say no… customers though?"

"They want to be slapped in the face by the holidays. They want synthetic pumpkin flavor pumped into every liquid available."

"We'll make that a Marcus problem." He grimaced, "synthetic pumpkin?" She laughed, 

"No, no I'm getting there. How about Tandoori Plaice and spiced Pumpkin as an appetizer?" She scribbled down ingredients, marking the ones she knew they didn't have to hand. "So it's like a spiced soup, with a gorgeous piece of fish on top, charred seeds and a little pumpkin oil?"

"Sounds fire, Chef." As usual, she was suckered in by his easy, generous praise. "Oysters?" He asked, 

"Dude, no. Oysters?! Are you gonna spend the next four months shucking them? Cos I can't do it for shit, I nearly cut my fucking hand off last time I tried. I hate doing them."

"You need a better fucking teacher then."

"Fine, we'll get some and you can show me. But if I lose my hand I'm definitely blaming you." She pointed her pen at him,

"Heard. I promise I won't let you lose your hands. They're too valuable." 

"They're not always that cooperative." She muttered, thinking back to earlier in the morning. They passed more ideas around throughout the day as they were joined by everyone else. “Hey, can I take Saturday night to hang with Nat?”

“Sure. We could do the menu at hers on Sunday? Cook everything, finalize it?”

“Yeah, that would be pretty great actually - helps her feel involved.”

“Heard. I’ll call her.” His hand brushed across her back as he moved behind her to get to the office. Syd was still staring at the door when Tina called out to her,

“¿Ves algo que te gusta, cariño?”

“Fuck off, T.”

~~~~~~~

[pinewaterbacc]

When Christina got home from school, she decided to spend her last afternoon as a child playing with her younger siblings, which was just too adorable not to take a photo of!

"Bababa," Michael babbled as he munched on the crayon. It was bright and colourful, so logic dictated it must be tasty as well.

"Mikey! Don't eat that!" Chrissy giggled. "Look, you use it to draw! I thought you liked drawing?"

Michael looked at the half-chewed crayon. It hadn't been as delicious as it had appeared so he used the slobbery end to scrawl on the paper in front of him.

Christina looked at the wet sludgy mess of paper, unconvinced but trying not to show it. "That's... um... really pretty. Well done!"

[falloutcoys]

star and zigzag!

but for which fics!!! fljshkgh i'll choose some but pls tell if you want answers for specific ones and i'll answer again :]

★ what was the scene you most wanted to write in [fic]? what was the hardest scene to write?

okay I'm gonna do scrawled in sand even though its not all posted yet because it's on my mind (for obvious reasons kjdsjshdg).

so I really wanted to write the very last scene but I won't spoil that hehe. otherwise, the flirty moment at the start of chapter two where Sherman does his subtle little thing and it works and Harry is waiting for him. i thought it would be so fun because it shows that Sherman is clever, and that Harry was paying a lot of attention to him, and that their minds work in similar enough ways that Harry picked up what he was trying to do

oh my god I struggled so much writing the scene in chapter one where he gets the info from the company girl. like i think it was a good scene for the fic because it establishes what Sherman is doing as his part of the breach and helps with pacing, but i just felt like i was banging my head against a brick wall trying to get it to A) even get on the page and B) sound halfway decent

ϟ tell me what moment/scene in [fic] made you sicko in the window.jpg to read and i’ll tell you which scene made me feel that way to write

okay in Close Quarters, i felt sooo sickos.jpg writing the second bit where it's revealed that not only did mikey know exactly what was going on but he was hoping to walk in on more. it was so fun

fic ask game

[bluepeachstudios]

(VHS 📼 ANON)

—————-

> Hook&Line.pdf

—————-

[there is a photo of a childish drawing of a large turtle with his face scribbled out, and words scrawled out saying “TRAITOR”, a girl with an arrow pointed her saying “Shadow”, and finally a pinkish squid like creature with pointed at it labeled with “me!”]

Ghost filed it away in his mind. Remember. Remember everything. An utrom, possibly. Shadow? One of his brothers. Michelangelo, given by the color. Or another mutant turtle he didn't know about.

Uncle Mikey, the girl on the audio had called. Perhaps that was Shadow. He needed more.

->Audio Transcript.file

[inkykeiji]

really just wanna get matching tracksuits with mikey 🥺🥺🥺 cute, custom made sets in baby pink (for me) and royal blue (for him), embroidered with our initials over the heart in shimmering gold thread <33 and maybe, maaaybe mine has ‘property of m. sano’ scrawled across the bum <3 and maybe, maaaybe his has a cute lil 𝒸 stitched into the hip in sparkly pink, right below the ruffled waistband <3

[purpleturtle9000]

I needed Tello and Jones Jr in my life

When Casey Jones was six years old, he would sit in entle Tello's lap as Tello worked on their drones. Everything was okay when his entle was there. Despite the strength of the Krang, and everything else the world could throw at them, nothing could ever get to him when he was being held, something he knew as early as his own name.

It was different, with them gone. Not just because Casey had lost one of the people most important to him, but because of the impact it had on his dad, too. Six months had passed before Leonardo even considered smiling again.

Casey understood loss, of course. His mother had died three years before Tello, when he was seven, and the incident had permanently altered his ability to feel safe.

Even in the future-past, some things are still the same. Some things still hurt. He's friends with Donnie, at least, he's pretty sure, or at least Donnie trusts him babysit Shelldon. If there's a difference there, Casey isn't going to be the one to find it, not when he missed his entle for six years.

But as much as he enjoys Donnie's and Shelldon's company, they aren't Tello.

Fortunately for him, they don't have to be, not when Tello is here.

It's just past three-thirty in the morning, and Casey is silent as he moves through the lair, shivering slightly in the cool air. He passes a row of dark rooms, some doors ajar and one entirely open. A peek shows Mikey fast asleep, his phone screen dully lit beside him.

Reassured that everyone is all right, Casey moves on. There's no lights on at night, but he doesn't need them. Not after a lifetime spent slipping from shadow to shadow, chasing the safety of the darkness. Like a cat, his dad called him once, though cats had all died before he was old enough to remember them.

Tello had been the only one willing to tell him, as a boy, that all the junebugs already died too. When they promised him that he wouldn't, he'd believed them.

He never thought to make them promise the same thing about themself, because there was no need to. Until the very moment he heard of their death, they were a constant in his life; it was the same thing he had once believed about his mother.

It's only in the past few days that he's dared to start hoping that Tello won't be taken again.

Red light pools around the bottom of the laboratory door. There's a whiteboard to its side, Casey knows even though he can't see it, scrawled with messages left in the course of the day, when Tello wouldn't open the door because they were too busy chasing some answer. He brushes his fingers across the words carved into the top of the door, GO AWAY BLUE THING, and knocks just below them.

Two raps on the door, a pause, then a third. Like the syllables in Junebug Jones.

Tello opens the door, of course, because they always do for him. His dad pouts about it, in a way that Tello calls Shakespearean, but never too seriously. Everyone knows that nobody can separate Tello and Jr.

The seven-foot-tall figure stares down at him, shadows lurking in the curves and joints of their Terminator-like legs and arm, red reflecting off the swooping angles of the goggles on top of their head and the chipped upper fang poking past their lip, face too dark to be seen.

"Hi," he says, and shivers as a draft brushes past his legs.

"Are you cold?"

"Mhm."

"You take after your father."

The words are said with exasperation, but Casey just shrugs. Tello's been mad at him before, sure, but not about foolishness. They claim it's a natural effect of being around 'that damn blue thing' too long.

The red light, he sees when Tello steps aside, is from a row of long lights set up over a wood table by the door. Terra cotta pots sit beneath them, half a dozen buds visible and even one fully-formed blossom. He stops to peer at it, not recognising the type, though he thinks it might be bright red even without the grow lights.

Steps come back towards him, and he straightens just in time for Tello to put a blanket around his shoulders like a cape. His hands come up to hold it in place, and he feels more than sees Tello lean down to kiss the top of his head.

When they move away without a word, he follows them. They sit down at the workbench at the end of the lab, turning on a small light on their goggles. The beam wobbles as they adjust its angle, then sweeps across the surface in more regular lines as they sort through the tools they have laid out.

It almost seems like they aren't aware he's there any longer, except for the fact that they nudge a stool his way with their foot, and hand over a pair of welding glasses before they begin soldering again.

He sits there with his chin in one hand, the other curled in the blanket. It's always warm in Tello's lab, because of the plants, and it's not long before his shivers stop. Even though it's hard to tell, he's pretty sure Tello notices.

They hand him the soldering iron, and he holds it quietly, the rubber grip warm against his palm. Sure, he remembers Tello being in the lab all the time, working with tech that Casey wouldn't have been able to imagine if he hadn't seen it for himself - but this is what he knows his entle for. Warmth, and quiet, and peace.

At least when it's just the two of them. Twins are fully incapable of being quiet or peaceful when together, obviously, but Leonardo rarely bothers Tello at night unless it's an emergency.

Casey always comes here when he can't sleep, and Tello always welcomes him. The silence settles as it does, comfortable and warm, no need for it to be broken.

Eventually they unplug the soldering iron and turn off the light on their goggles. Casey can hear the faint clatter of them being hung on the metal pegboard.

"Sleep?"

It's the first word either of them have said in over an hour.

Casey winces a little, looking away as he shakes his head. Neither of them are any stranger to nightmares, and he knows they won't ask for any details if he doesn't want to volunteer them.

Instead they nudge his shoulder, a silent follow me, and lead him to the couch. It's old enough to be a rather uncertain shape and colour, but the layers of soft blankets and pillows make it second to none, in terms of comfort. Casey sinks down in a hollow between a pillow and a weighted blanket, and waits.

There's another clatter-click-slide, and something cool and smooth is set against his hand, a soft glow lighting up his legs and blanket. A tablet, he realises, already turned on. He gives his eyes a few moments to adjust to the change in lighting before turning it over so he can see the screen.

A game. Tello's favourite walking simulator, to be precise, where various animal companions follow the player as they run around finding exotic plants.

They always play this when they can't sleep, and they always invite him when they know he's struggling with the same thing. Sometimes it's the only thing that works to help calm him.

The red lights switch off as sunlight begins to warm the room, but Casey, curled up against Tello's plastron, isn't awake to see it.

[balcon1es]

“Yeah, yeah.” Mikey raised his hands, sticking his tongue out. “You got me.”

Three months gone. Three—and only now was he looking a little contrite over it. If he walked out of his little yokai brigade right now, April knew Leo would put it all behind them. It was way more than what any of them would get away with.

Leo sheathed his sword. Seemed to ignore the masked yokai fringing Mikey’s side, mirroring Leo’s own.  “Hey, Mikey.”

“Hey, Leo,” Mikey said, in a small voice. Stared at the ground like it held all the world's secrets. The room watched the two brothers. Even the snow outside quieting for their reunion. Then Mikey rose, lifting his head, and a smile pooled into his eyes—a trickster’s smile, his old one, but behind it something barbed lay in wait. April's body flared in warning. “Bye, Leo.”

Leo bristled. “Wait—“

Light. Beneath their feet, the circular seal pulsed as Mikey's thumb stitched the last of it closed—when had he drawn it? Smoke, like a huge sail, furled into the room. As it cleared, common tools where each of Mikey and his entourage once stood clattered back to earth. Clay pots, spoons, brushes, old fraying books.

The gold glow of the seal bled out of the room. Leo stared at its dull scrawl. A scroll rolled to a stop by his foot.

In the silence, a soldier reached for him, but April gave a sharp jerk of her head.

Don't, she mouthed, then winced at the sound Leo slamming his fist against the ground.

[vampireshmu]

Fandom: Bandom, My Chemical Romance Rating: Gen Relationships: Gerard Way/Mikey Way, (can be read as gen though) Wordcount: 600 Tags: Ghosts, Sibling Incest, (if you want it to be), just lighthearted idk A/N: Dunno it's just a lighthearted little thing! For the second Waycest Wednesday's prompt of "Ghosts". If I had a nickel every time that I wrote Ghost!Mikey in a bathroom-

Gerard scrubbed at their hair, feeling the stress of their day melting off of them and washing down the drain. After a few more minutes, he turned off the water and reached for his towel. They dried themself off and stepped out of the shower.

Glancing briefly at the fogged up mirror, Gerard noticed something. There was a message written on the mirror, just large enough to be noticeable. They squinted to try to read it, but the letters were still blurry.

He rubbed his eyes and took in the words scrawled in… translucent goop, apparently.

“PLS STOP YR FRIENDS FROM DOG EARING MY BOOKS. I DON’T CARE IF I’M DEAD.”

“Mikey,” Gerard said, “Please stop writing on the mirror. Do you realize how hard it is to get ectoplasm off of it? It’s like those stickers from stores that you can’t ever get all the way off. Please just like- write a note or something? Not my fancy alcohol markers though.”

Gerard waited an awkward moment, but there was no response. He rolled his eyes, poking at the sticky substance. After a moment, Gerard heard a faint rustling sound behind them. They turned around quickly, but there was no one there. Obviously.

However, they could feel a strange presence in the room.

"Mikey?" Gerard called out tentatively.

There was no response, but Gerard could sense that his brother’s ghostly presence was still there. A soft whispering sound seemed to surround them. They strained to listen, but the words were too faint to make out.

Getting frustrated, Gerard said, "Mikey, I can't hear you. You need to speak up if you want to actually talk to me."

Abruptly, the temperature in the room dropped and a gust of wind blew through the bathroom. The curtains swayed and Gerard shivered, feeling a chill run down their spine, “Wow, okay. Um, language! But yeah sure, I’ll tell Frank not to. Capeesh?”

There was no response, once again, but the room warmed up so he figured that Mikey had dissipated. They sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and exhaustion. Dealing with Mikey’s antics was kinda draining, but he supposed it was better than him being gone forever. They were too dependent on each other for that to even be a possibility. 

Gerard quickly got dressed and headed out of the bathroom, feeling a little uneasy but trying not to let it show. As he passed by the bookshelf in the living room (also known as The Depression Nest), he noticed that one of Mikey’s books was lying discarded on the couch. A page was bent and they sighed as they folded it back, placing it back on the shelf with the rest of the Palahniuk books Mikey had collected over the years.

Gerard reasoned that they were lucky to have their brother still with them in some way. He really couldn't imagine life without him, and he was grateful for every moment they got to spend together. Even if it was… unconventional (at best).

Gerard spun suddenly at the sound of the book they had just put on the shelf thudding to the floor.

“Mikey-”

A smiley face in iridescent slime showed up on the bookshelf, just slowly enough to be mildly infuriating.

“Oh you rascal. Whatever. I’ll leave it.”

Quickly drawn below the smiley face was a small heart, the way that Mikey typed them out on forums, even with the existence of emojis. Less than symbol followed by a three. It was cute. Gerard couldn't help the small smile on their face. They shook their head and settled into the couch.

[kudosmyhero]

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (IDW) #23: City Fall - part 2

Read Date: January 22, 2023 Cover Date: June 2013 ● Writer: Kevin Eastman ◦ Tom Waltz ◦ Bobby Curnow ● Art: Mateus Santolouco ◦ Dan Duncan ◦ Sophie Campbell ◦ Andy Kuhn ◦ Ben Bates ◦ Kevin Eastman ● Colorist: Ronda Pattison ● Letterer: Shawn Lee ◦ Tom B. Long ● Editor: Bobby Curnow ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● title page. two vans. one is April's as they rush Casey to the hospital. the other belongs to the Foot Clan, where they are taking Leonardo to Kitsune and her priests. ● Raphael, Splinter, April, and Angel drop off Case. Donatello and Michelangelo are searching for Leonardo with orders to meet back at the lair in an hour. Splinter and Raphael prepare to head back while Angel and April stay at the hospital ● the doctor says a lot of sword wounds have been coming in lately, and he wonders why that is before he goes off to operate on Casey

● Splinter and the three remaining turtles meet back at the lair ● Donatello presents Splinter with Leo's katana, which they found, confirming their fears that the Foot have him ● surprisingly, another clue has been written on the wall: East River Midnite Can Help U! Hob ● which means Hob knows where they live ● Kitsune has Leo on some sort of stone table ● when Kitsune puts on the fox mask, she transforms into a fox ● she tells Leo, "I pose no threat to you. I am simply here to guide you…" ● he has some sort of horrible dream of being frightened of Splinter, and of Shredder saving him ● brainwash Leo time! ● back at the hospital, Angel tells April of some of her backstory ● doctor takes April and Angel to Casey's room. He's still on a ventilator and everything. amazingly no vital organs were damaged, but he did suffer significant trauma, especially to his abdomen. doctor also says Casey won't play hockey anymore ● here comes Casey's dad. oops, and he overhears Angel say, "You know it ain't right, April. A good guy like Casey don't deserve to suffer like this… but that loser dad of his sure as hell does." ● the dad turns around and leaves before they notice him ● Splinter and his boys heading to meet with Hob ● Hob is there… as is Slash

● 👏👏👏👏

Synopsis: April, Angel, Splinter and Raphael rush Casey to the hospital while Donatello and Michelangelo search the area around the docks for Leonardo. Paralleling the scene, Shredder, Karai and Alopex rush Leonardo back to one of the Foot's hideouts. April and Angel arrive at the hospital and get Casey inside; Splinter and Raph head home to meet Donnie and Mikey. Arriving at their hideout, Shredder dismissed Karai and Alopex and brings Leo to Kitsune. Casey is brought to an operating room while Leo is brought to a room Kitsune has prepared for a magic ritual.

At the Turtles' home, Donnie and Mikey present the only clue they could find to Splinter, one of Leo's katanas. However, they also show him the message they found scrawled on their wall when they arrived, an invitation from Hob to meet near the East River at midnight. At the Foot's hideout, Kitsune uses powerful dark magic to warp Leonardo's memories, altering them so that Splinter appears to be his enemy and the Shredder his ally. He even hallucinates that Splinter has killed his brothers, leaving him devastated.

In the hospital waiting room, Angel tells April about some of her and Casey's history – how their dad's were friends who had them around the same time, letting them grow up together. Angel tells April how she lost her mother in a car accident and didn't cope well, taking to running with the street gange the Purple Dragons. It was Casey that kept her from getting too deep into the gang lifestyle and winding up in jail or dead. The doctor brings them into Casey's room and tells them his condition is stable but he will likely never play hockey again. April wonders if they should call Casey's dad, but Angel already told her dad to tell him, saying he'd probably be too drunk to care anyways. Casey's dad, who was about to enter the room, overhears, and leaves.

Splinter, Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo arrive at the meeting point and find Hob with Slash. Hob tells them he knows where Leonardo is, and he can help them get him back. Hob says he can sense tension in the city escalating, and they need to choose sides. He offers to partner up with the Turtles, despite their past altercations. Splinter says if he really can lead them to Leonardo, he will consider the offer. At the Foot's hideout, Kitsune's work is complete, and Leonardo accepts the Shredder as his new master.

(https://turtlepedia.fandom.com/wiki/City_Fall,_part_2)

Fan Art: TMNT: Feudal Era by jeftoon01

Accompanying Podcast: ● Shellheads - episode 46

[saga-project]

Fine. Cain supposed he would go with ora---Mikey. To make dumb stupid spray paintings. Even though he still didn't have a clue what he was going to paint, and he was almost doubly sure that Mikey was going to laugh in his face at the first sign that he was failing his tasks and make him do them all over again.

It would distract him from stupid Theatre and stupid Leon blabbing about shit they didn't understand. And stupid Green with his stupid scarf that he'd given to Cain for no reason. And how the hell he was supposed to live with the knowledge that something in his brain was fundamentally wrong. That he couldn't just be allowed to try and fix it, or will it away and hope that it stuck.

How hard could painting a picture possibly be?

"---Don? You gonna stare at the wall all day, or. You need me to help?"

Cain blinked rapidly, realizing--with a frustrated growl under his breath--that he'd spaced out again, and that he had been staring at the same length of brick wall for the past twenty minutes without making so much as a lick of progress. He twisted towards Mikey with a scowl, narrowing his good eye. "You. Need to stop talking."

"It's okay if you don't know what to paint. You can just do somethin' abstract! Just do it from the heart--"

"I do not need advice. I will paint something that will knock your socks off. Just you wait and see."

"Then paint, dude! It's okay, I won't judge it."

He said that now. But Cain was almost certain that if he didn't perform perfectly, Mikey would find some way to punish him, or destroy his work in front of him, or....

Fine. Fine. He could do this. Just paint what was in his heart. Or whatever. He wasn't going to do the stupid flowers, but maybe--

Cain grabbed the black paint. Then the red. Then some blue. Assorted other colors along the way. Mikey had gone over the basics of the technique, he just needed to remember--there he was. Long sprays for precise lines, filling in the shapes. Focus on what he was picturing in his mind, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. It was just like making tech, after all. Maybe with a few more steps and more technique involved, but still. He was well-versed at building tech. It was about the only thing a specimen like him was good for, these days.

Just like fighting. Just like building. Break it down into simple steps, get into a rhythm. Oh, yes, he was winning at spray painting. Mikey would not think he was a failure. He stepped back to survey his work, wiping the sweat from his eyes--

--and froze.

"Donnie--I mean. Cain? What's that mean."

It was him. He'd painted himself. As a shadowy, huddled figure, surrounded by all too familiar outlines. Theatre. Bee. Leon. Three. The red and orange and blue ones. Papa. All surrounding him as other shadowy figures. His form was jagged, cracking, angry red lines spilling out of him and connecting to the others. Like a puppet, being pulled in every conceivable direction. And all around those figures AND himself, he'd scrawled blocky letters, forming words in jagged red and black.

I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY--

Over and over and over again.

The can fell from his shaking fingers as Cain looked, as his chest felt increasingly tight, and when Mikey spoke again it sounded like his words were coming from underwater. "--on? What's that---"

He couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't let Mikey know how much of a burden he was, too. He couldn't let him know about all the fear and insecurity that had come rushing out of him within the past few days.

So Cain turned, and he did the one thing he seemed to be good at anymore.

He ran.

[dangerous-advantage]

Number 16? 💜

[link to ask prompts]

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

oh man... calling me out, huh? /lh

off the top of my head, including everything from vague ideas to the fully fleshed out ones, to the ones i've actually written stuff for? nine (at least). which may not seem like a lot, but as i am incapable of writing anything short and/or sweet, that is way more than i am capable of handling at the moment, haha.

as for the au, i've talked about this before on here, but i've fleshed it out a little more to a place where i'm happier with it! so, here's my origami ghost au!

credit where credit is due, i got the og idea/sick-ass name from @noodlenoodlenoodlenoodle. (thanks for letting me adopt this au, and play around with it! i swear i'll write that seratello follow-up fic one of these days <3)

the basic premise is this: leo gets put in a coma, and nobody knows why or how. mikey, who was with him when it happened, was found in a similar state, but woke up the next morning with no memories of what happened. everybody keeps hoping that he'll wake up, writing notes and folding them into little origami shapes for him to read through when he recovers. but time progresses, and they begin to lose hope.

when strangely folded origami notes start appearing around the lair, often scrawled with incomprehensible writing, the mad dogz begin to wonder. raph, not wanting to inspire false hope, dismisses the occurrences, encouraging the others to do the same. however, raph has a few suspicions of his own. enlisting the help of cassandra in order to avoid the suspicion of his brothers, they begin following the trail of strange, mangled origami animals and their often nonsense notes. following a series of clues to the gutters and back alleys of new york and the hidden city, they begin to uncover the truth behind what is happening. old grudges start to come to light, and with each secret uncovered, they find themselves beginning to question the very nature of what's been happening, leading them to ask the larger question behind it all: why?

meanwhile, donnie doesn't buy it. things just aren't adding up, and he's frustrated that raph seems so willing to just let something like this go. leo and him have always been close, and he doesn't believe for a second that his brother is beyond hope. he confesses his feelings on the matter to april, who has been having similar thoughts. the two of them decide to start doing a little research of their own on the side, without the knowledge of the others. on a hunch, they head to the mystic library (which they are banned from) and are able to "convince" (blackmail) a newer employee-- the long-suffering usagi yuichi-- to aid them on their quest. thrown into a world of ancient rituals, cursed items, and other "mystic bullshit" (donnie's words), the b team soon finds there's much more to this than they had thought. not to mention, things get dicey when their meddling goes just a bit too far, and somebody gets paranoid. (thank god they have a rabbit bodyguard...)

finally, mikey. mikey, whose been taking this all the hardest, whose brothers have been disappearing more and more often. who can't seem to remember what happened that night, and blames himself more with each passing day. not to mention, due to the effects of the invasion, his hands are too shaky to fold origami "right" (his words.) mikey begins to withdraw, acting like he's fine, while internally, he begins to obsess over what happened that night. his family doesn't seem to notice, being so busy with things they won't tell him about. it seems like it should be easy to slip out, leaving the others unaware, but he didn't count on thing: casey jr, leo's shadow and unspoken "second-in-command." in the spirirt of looking out for him, casey demands he be let in on whatever mikey is planning. mikey isn't happy, but he relents, letting casey in on a secret: he does remember something from that patrol. something that's been keeping him up at night. something that he isn't quite sure he can trust. together, the two of them start looking for the truth behind exactly what happened that night, and more importantly: who is to blame. driven by his growing anger, with casey keeping an eye out for him, he dons the moniker of the 'origami ghost,' venturing into the darkest parts of the city in search of a killer. but to catch a killer, mikey might just have to become one.

(featuring: my raph & cass qp agenda, donnie's horrible realization that feelings are a thing that exists (ew!), and some good old fashioned villan!mikey <3)

[tacticalspider]

what happened to the artists?

image descriptions in alts and under the cut

[image number one shows a drawing of ray toro done in bright marker over an old page in a school notebook covered in pencil writing. the drawing itself is a copy of a picture taken of ray toro from some time in 2024. he's standing up with his shoulders a bit hunched and he's looking down seriously at the guitar in his hands. his hair is pushed back behind his shoulders. overlaying half of his face on the left side of the paper is a Palestinian flag. this half of his face and clothes are drawn in colors to match that section of the flag: for example, part of his face is black and grey where the flag is black, and other bit is drawn in reds. the flag has a thick black boarder around it and, written in the top red section, are both my signature of "tactical spider" and the date it was drawn, which is october sixth, 2024. on the left side of the the flag, in small, scrawled writing, a sentence reads "this hurts, ray, you're my favourite." in big capital letters on the right side of ray's head, it says "what happened to the artists." in smaller text below, it says "what you gotta say," both being lines from "hind's hall" by macklemore. on one shoulder of ray's grey, long-sleeved shirt, read the words "what if you were in Gaza, what if those were your kids," a line that is also from "hind's hall." finally, on his forearm, it reads "your children will study your silence." ray has light brown skin and curly brown hair. his guitar is a pale wood color, or at least it's supposed to be.]

[image number two shows another marker drawing, this one of mikey way. his skin is pretty yellow, because I blended the marker wrong, and he's got black glasses, a black beanie over brown hair, and a black t-shirt with his hands behind his back. we can see amber eyes behind the glasses' grey lenses, and he's staring into the middle distance. green letters on his shirt read "possible hypocrite?" and he has one half of a heart friendship bracelet hanging around his neck. then, in the top left of the drawing, right next to my "tactical spider" signature, is a thickly boarded red triangle, inside of which it reads "someone will bleed, won't they?" along with a few black tear drops, which makes the shape almost look like a wedge of watermelon. next to this triangle, it says the date, which is once again the sixth of october, 2024. underneath, highlighted in red, it goes on to sayin parenthesis "especially when you do nothing, michael," as a continuation of the words in the red triangle. an arrow points to one of mikey's eyes along with text reading "and after seeing what we saw, can we still reclaim our innocence," which is a line from MCR's "skylines and turnstiles." finnaly, in big capital letters on the bottom left of the page, reads "tell me where we go from here." once again, this is drawn on an old page of pencil notes in a school notebook.]

[image number three shows a marker drawing of frank iero. two big black x's cover pen gradings from when this was my sixth grade social studies notebook. taking up most of the right side of the page is frank on his knees, leaning back. grey marker covers his exposed arm in an emulation of tattoos, his head is tipped back to expose his bare neck, his skin is a light peach color, and his hair is dark brown and scraggly. he's clean-shaven with a small mustache, and is wearing his red t-shirt that says "homophobia is gay" on it." in a speech bubble next to his head says in spanish "del rio al mar, yo te quiero libre palestinam" which is a cross between the english phrase "from the river to the sea" and ana tijoux's line in "somos sur," "yo te quiero libre palestina." small letters and an arrow pointing to the speech bubble say "lo que quiero." in the upper left corner of the page, words read "silence is violence frankie," and next to that is the date, october fifth, 2024. a little ways below, more words read "te amo frank, pero necesitamos más de usted, porfa." then a ways below that, it reads "your children will study your silence." then in really big black letters covering the bottom half of the page, it reads "fuck you very much for your silence..." along the side of the first F is my signature, tactical spider. finally in parentheses below the "fuck you" frank's instagram handle is written, that being "frank iero must die," all one word and with no "a" in "frank."]

[image number four shows a bright marker drawing of gerard way's face in close-up, once again over an old school notebook page. it's a copy of a professional photo taken of them on the return tour, singing while wearing the cheer dress. his medium brown hair is flying all over the place, he has light skin, his eyes are closed, and he's holding the microphone right up to his mouth, showing the wedding ring on his finger. a rectangular yellow text box with a thick black boarder pointing to his mouth says "yo te quero libre palestina. black marker words going across their face say "...gerard...your silence is violence." next to the speech box it reads "oh gee, give me truth," and in big green and black letters at the bottom of the page, it reads "another cog in the murder machine?" that of course being a line from "teenagers" by MCR. the word "cog" is underlined, and has an arrow pointing to gerard. in small black capitol letters, the words "free palestine" are written between the two lines of green and black letters. finally, my signature "tactical spider" is written off to one side, alson with the date, october fifth, 2024. end id]