#papa draxum

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Completed Draxum's Nightmare Comic!

CW: PTSD, nightmare, anxiety attacks, implied character death, trauma, Mikey's hands do the snap-crackle-pop-glowstick thing

I had a fun time creating this miniseries comic, answering interesting asks about writing Draxum's character and angst ideas, and just seeing people fall to their knees over the angst I fed them.

Thanks for reading! See ya in the next comic!!

Now go get some rest.

[hasello]

Here's the (pretty old) art that kind of inspired me to do the Baby Blue comic. Wanted to do a soft moment between them, bonding - and somehow my brain went BAM, and we've got a story.

Have some VERY OLD doodles too, that were also kind of the beginning of this idea. (I'm weak for dad Draxum, if it wasn't obvious lmao)

[dryad-druid]

@thedawningofthehour this for you

the first time he called him son to his face :]

[anxietyrobot]

[dies] [comes back] [dies again]

[phykoha]

Does lee still hold grudge against barry for throwing him off that roof that day years ago?

It would be funny for barry to watch out from 2 leos now.

Lee would joke about it, but no. He wouldn't actually be upset about it anymore hfgsdfsd Barry is like a second father to the elder turtles, and they really care about him.

Lee, when first seeing Draxum, would point at him from across the room and yell "HEY. THAT'S THE GUY THAT THREW ME OFF A ROOF." before stomping over and hugging him jhfgdhsff Lee would call him 'dad' so casually ahah

[rottmntquotes]

POV: Draxum tried to give his Feral Sons some chocolate for Valentine's Day

Raph:

Leo:

Donnie:

Mikey:

[blindaysblogforturtles]

Omfg this is so adorable it hurts

Draxum: *desperately tries to see his creations as weapons*

His Creations: *say shit like this*

[goodlucktai]

16 for the dialogue prompts?

dialogue prompts

16. “God, I’m so sorry, it’ll be over soon, I promise.”

@dandywonderous im so sorry about this in advance 🥹

x

When they were little, and they started wearing masks because Mikey wanted to be like the heroes he watched in Saturday morning cartoons, Donnie asked Splinter to cut the tails of his short so they wouldn’t get in his way.

Leo thought that was a crazy decision, because if the tails were short they wouldn’t match Raph’s. 

“So?” Donnie said, unscrewing the bottom panel of the oscillating fan he stole from Splinter’s room. 

“So what?” Leo said. 

“So what if I don’t match Raph? I don’t have to,” Donnie pointed out, a seven year old at his most reasonable.

His twin blinked, then his striped cheeks puffed out, brow furrowing, fully not understanding the question. He wanted to do everything Raphie did, but denied it when anyone told him so. 

This certain proof of that behavior made Donnie smile, quiet and indulgent the way he only ever was for his other half, but only when it was just the two of them. 

Leo whined and kicked his feet but Donnie wouldn’t tell him what was funny. 

Those long blue mask tails are sodden and heavy as Donnie shifts them out of the way, leaving a sickening trail of red where they drag against Leo’s neck and shoulder. 

They’re pinned down, what’s left of the tunnel groaning and shifting around them, at least three Technodromes filling the sky outside. Donnie can feel the hum of impending doom in his teeth. 

“Hush, Nardo,” Donnie whispers, hand clamped over Leo’s mouth hard, even though it cuts him to have to do this. “You can’t scream, mellizo. Hush.”

His twin writhes, digging at Donnie’s grip with desperate fingers. His chest is heaving, eyes wild with pain. The rosy glow of Raph’s ninpo is all they have to see by as the projection hovers above them in case of another collapse. In the dim light, Donnie can almost pretend it’s mud he’s kneeling in, warm and slick and pooling at an alarming rate from the slab of concrete that Leo’s right arm has been crushed under.  

The safe zone has been compromised. It’s devastating, but not at all surprising. Two of their scouts didn’t report in when they should have, baseline humans who didn’t have a hope of resisting the Krang’s method of interrogation, so it was only a matter of time before the enemy came knocking. 

April, Mikey and Cass have been evacuating their people and transporting supplies in and out of sunny orange portals all morning while Draxum, Hob and Usagi guarded their every move with eagle-eyed vigilance. 

Donnie, Raph and Leo were holding the Krang at bay for every extra second that they could, but they stayed out there a second too long. 

Now Leo is bleeding and the Krang hounds are prowling, their horrible faces scraping the ground as they sniff out that rich source of life, and Donnie’s mind is blank with panic. They’re trapped, and if he lets go then Leo will scream and bring death down on them, and if he doesn’t then death will come anyway, with teeth and venom.

“Shhh, Lilo,” Donnie tries to soothe, imagining Leo’s sweet, bright ‘shhh yourself, Dodo!’ in place of the uncomprehending whine he gets in response. “God, I’m so sorry. It’ll be over soon, I promise.”

Maybe we should pray, he thinks wildly. Not to god, because that would be a spectacular waste of breath, but to one of the people who left the party early and might be willing to toss a miracle or two in their direction. Papa, or Gram-gram, or April’s mom. 

The red projection surrounding them begins to shrink. Slowly, making sure the rocks above and around them won’t shift, until the ninpo is just a warm glow beneath Raph’s skin. Donnie feels a rush of relief and anticipation—Raph has a plan, Raph will tell him what to do. 

Raph puts one arm around Donnie’s shoulders and cups Leo’s face with his other hand, stroking his cheek with the pad of his thumb. Blood smears beneath his fingers. His expression is hard to read in the dark underground. 

“You’ll be alright, big man,” Raph murmurs, all conviction, as if he can make it true out of sheer love. If anyone could, it would be him. Then he says, “Donnie, can you cut him out?”

The question makes his stomach lurch with nausea, bitter and acidic, but it’s a question that he can answer. After fighting in a three-turtle team for the better part of two hours, Donnie’s ninpo feels like coffee dregs left in the bottom of an empty pot. He has enough strength left that he could summon a tool for an emergency amputation, but only that. 

“Not quickly,” he says pointedly, “or quietly.”

Raph nods. He just sits there for a minute, holding them. They don’t have a minute and Raphie knows that but he’s just holding them. Donnie’s heart begins to race in a brand-new direction, some frightened thing in his very center sitting up and taking notice. 

Donatello has always been an incredible number of things, not all of them good or noble or worth bragging about, but above all else, at the end of each and every day, he was Raphael’s little brother. 

Donnie didn’t imitate him when they were kids—didn’t wear his mask tails long or find reasons to follow him around—but he was every firm hug Donnie needed to keep his skin from itching when life got too loud. He was an attentive, listening audience when Donnie had to talk about the things pingponging around in his mind without being interrupted or he’d scream. He was the large hands that held Donnie’s, the snaggle-toothed face that smiled in encouragement, when Donnie learned to walk. 

Donnie knew him fundamentally. Intrinsically. A textbook he never had to study, knowledge that grew up with him from the first moment he opened his eyes to the big, bright world. That’s how he knew what was about to happen the second before it did. 

“No,” Donnie says hoarsely. “Please don’t.” 

“Raphie’s gotcha,” Raph says warmly, the last steadfast and solid and remarkably kind thing left in the apocalypse.

He reaches down and presses the panic button on Donnie’s gauntlet. The alert activates with a bright pinging sound effect, echoing twice in their little disaster-made cavern as it’s received by Leo and Raph’s comms, and the Krang hounds nearby whine and bark in excitement. Their claws churn up earth and rock as they start to run.

Raph spares a second to press a kiss against Donnie’s temple, and another to Leo’s forehead, and then he’s gone. The light goes with him. Donnie shakes like a leaf, unreasonably cold, unable to think. 

Leo is half out of his mind by now, sobbing and jerking at his trapped limb, but all his agony is soundly drowned out by the brutal battle Raphael is leading far away from them. 

“Hush,” Donnie whispers, eyes stinging so badly he can hardly keep them open, tears dripping endlessly down his face. “It’ll be over soon.”

[dryad-druid]

Grandma Draxum slams her jug against the table releasing a puff from her mouth, in front of her was her opponent, who seemed on the verge of losing consciousness.

"Good job, kiddo!!!" she said patting her half conscious granddaughter's shoulder." I can tell you inherited my liver! Keep it up and you can get to 30 jugs!!!! HA!"

Migla looked around the rest of the room, everyone seemed to be having a good time, what a good time, after all It was Halloween and today was one of the opportunities both Migla and Atsuko had to visit their family, which were very few, being spirits and all.

"Rafael! Come here and challenge your Grandmama!!!" Migla shouted, raising another full mug in the air.

Rafael looked nervously at his grandmother's spirit. "Grandma, I'm 16."

Migla narrowed her eyes, took a drink from her jug and said. "...and?"

Raph looked confused. ".... am I not allowed to drink? Besides I don't think Papa-"

"Ha! Your dad!? You know how old your dad was when he first drank? you're an adult compared to him!" Despite being a spirit Grandma Draxum was capable of getting drunk and now she was taking advantage of it.

"Omg, seriously" Said Leo who immediately included himself in the conversation.

"Well, alcohol and wine was safer than water back then" added Donnie.

"And isn't that what you guys knew about the time he participated in a competition while kissing three guys at the same time?"

"Please! Tell!" said Mikey shaking his hands in excitement.

"Oh! I TELL YOU-"

Meanwhile Baron Draxum was being subdued by Splinter and Bella (who seemed better all of a sudden) who upon immediately noticing where this was going immediately pounced on the alchemist to prevent him from interfering.

This was going to be a very Fun Halloween.

Bella is an oc by @thedawningofthehour go read her fic.

COMISSIONS

.

.

[daboyau]

Chapter ten of the Rise Hunger Games AU! Remember when I said this would be about six chapters total? Boy, was I wrong! We’re at double digits now, and not even into the meat of the Games yet. Hope you enjoy the calm while it lasts!

prev/

Here, have the tag list. Fingers crossed it actually works this time!

@boots-with-the-fur-club @qwerty-keyboard-is-superior @theonlybrightowl @dandywonderous @dandylovesturtles @elijah-doodle @fredquinn @sady-is-secretly-an-alchemist @heckitall @beannary @brightandfullofglory @purplepixel @pomelined @imagionationstation @daughterofskylark @eb177 @lilysplash @midwesternvibes @burritello3000 @justchillininthebackground-06 @snowleopardtherebel @kiaxet

Knives have never been Donnie’s preferred weapon. He can appreciate the versatility of them, and how easy they are to carry or conceal, but he has never particularly enjoyed how close one has to be to use them effectively. It’s messy. Plus, contrary to popular belief, they aren’t really all that efficient at killing a human being unless the wielder knows exactly the right place to stab or slash, and has very good aim.

If he had the choice to pick any weapon, he’d go for a gun. He’s often eyed the Peacekeeper’s weapons, wishing he could get his hands on them, if only to take them apart. He wants to learn all their weaknesses, and figure out how to make his own better version. There’s a reason that precious few of the Districts have ever tried to fight back against them, despite having significantly more numbers. 

Unfortunately, guns have never been an option during the Hunger Games in the past, and he suspects that won’t be changing this year. Luckily for him, papa has ensured that he does indeed have all the necessary knowledge to use a knife, as well as a number of other weapons.

He adjusts his grip around the hilt and strikes out at the training simulation, a quick slash to its holographic throat causing it to crumble to pixelated dust. Another quick hard jab, and the next has joined its pixelated brethren in the great technological beyond. He whirls at a soft click behind him — the telltale indicator that there was another digital opponent spawning, he had surmised early on — and a backhanded stab to the throat has the indistinct figure dissipating before it has the chance to fully form. 

The room slowly begins to brighten as the simulation ends, and Donnie steps off the platform. His breathing is a little harsher than he usually allows during training, and the uncomfortable stickiness of sweat has the back of his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his skin. He shudders at the feeling. His back still feels strange after Draxum had poked at it the night before. The phantom sensation of pins and needles linger despite the exo-spine having no real nerve endings to speak of. Worse, if he moves too fast or bends too far, he can feel his legs tingle and he begins to lose sensation in his toes.

“The worst of those side effects should only last about 12 hours,” Draxum had told him dismissively, when Donnie had informed him of what he was feeling. Apparently, with his growth the last 14 years, the device had to be recalibrated to ensure it would continue functioning as intended. It had made him feel vulnerable and sick, forced to sit on the edge of the bed as Draxum fiddled with the most vulnerable part of him and his legs had suddenly stopped being able to hold his weight. The lingering sensation of fingers against his skin and the electric pain of tools inside his exo-spine had kept him up throughout most of the night, long after Draxum had left and Donnie had kicked his papa out to retire to his own room, not wanting to upset him with having to watch as Donnie rode out the after affects of having something integrated with his nervous system messed with. Yoshi had reluctantly given in, leaving Donnie gritting his teeth and hissing with each new spark of pain or each terrifying loss of sensation and control over his own body alone. It was the first time he actually felt glad that he wasn’t sharing a bedroom with his twin; the last thing he wanted was Leo (or anyone else) worrying about him.

He doesn’t trust that the man hadn’t done something; sabotaged him in some way, or installed some feature that would come back to bite him later. The fact that he couldn’t effectively examine his own back for signs of tampering just made it all the worse. If he could only take a look at it, then he might at least be able to soothe the anxious pounding of his heart that threatened to overwhelm him whenever he spent too long thinking about how dangerous it was to allow anyone he doesn’t trust implicitly to have access to his back. If it needed any cleaning or maintenance at home, he’d usually instruct Leo or April on how to do it, while Mikey or Raph held up mirrors at various angles so he could keep a close eye on the proceedings. Not an option now, but maybe he can have papa hold a mirror, at least.

After returning the knife to one of the weapons racks, he sighs and slinks over to grab a sealed bottle of water off the little table of refreshments that had been set up in a corner of the massive gymnasium. The other tributes are scattered throughout the space, a handful of them looking determined while most of the others just look lost. Donnie was one of the few to find a weapon and get to work immediately, and he knows that that decision means that there will be eyes on him now. That fact could work against him, painting a target on his back, or it could help him to form potential alliances if he chooses to go that route. It’s hard to say, since past games can’t offer conclusive data considering the participants — and therefore line up of personalities and group dynamics — change each year.

Not like he is any better, of course. He’d made sure to note which of his fellow tributes had moved with confidence and which had hung back or hesitated, just the same as all the rest of them. He knows better than to discount any of the more hesitant ones, though. A smart strategist might put on a front to keep attention off of themselves. That would have been what Leo would do in his place, he was sure. After all, Donnie is also holding back. 

“You were really good in there,” a voice says from right beside him, and Donnie chokes on his water. Apparently, being attentive while lost in thought is a skill he’ll need to work on.

The girl standing beside him is young, maybe 14 or 15. She stares up at him with wide green eyes when he turns to face her, like she’s expecting a response. Donnie clears his throat and casts a quick glance around them and then towards the other tributes, hoping to find that she was talking to someone else. No luck there. He looks her over, taking in the blonde hair and round freckled cheeks, trying to remember which District she belongs to, before it clicks.

“Ah, you’re from Eleven, right? The…sexy corn girl?” 

She stares up at him, mouth popped into a little ‘o’ of surprise, and he’s pretty sure that means he said the wrong thing. He looks away, focusing on the other tributes once more. He has just enough time to think at least if I’ve offended her she’ll leave me alone, before he hears a little snort beside him, and when he looks towards her once again he’s surprised to see her smiling. 

“It was really bad, right? The stylists for my District were awful this year.”

“They were,” he agrees easily, still confused as to why she’s talking to him. She nods and hums, and she hasn’t stopped staring at him. There are bags beneath her eyes; evidence of how the last few days and the impending Games have been weighing on her. He imagines he must look just as tired and beaten down.

“I heard about how you helped the District Three kids,” she says. “It was kind of you to do that.”

He almost doesn’t realize what she’s referring to, staring at her blankly before it finally clicks. He snorts derisively and waves the words off. He wishes she would stop smiling at him.

“It was easy to fix, the stylists were just idiots,” he mutters, taking another swallow of his water. He hears her giggle. 

“Yeah, it seems like there was a lot of that going around this year.”

He hums his agreement, and takes a half step further away from her. He’s nearly ready to get back to his half hearted training montage, but he’s not sure where to focus his energy next. He’s been eying the survivalist area of the training grounds, but one of the other boys has been hogging it for nearly an hour. He’s not really interested in sharing right now, or in socializing with other tributes. 

Speaking of which. 

“Bye,” he says dryly to the girl as he drops his empty water bottle back onto the table and turns to leave. 

“Wait! I wanted to ask you something.”

He probably shouldn’t bother, but he is curious. He turns back, eyes narrowed and arms crossed as he waits impatiently for her to finish her thought. She won’t look him in the eye, but after a beat, she finally gets herself together enough to blurt out, “Can you teach me how to use a knife?”

He stares at her for a long time, trying to figure out if she’s joking or not. It’s in poor taste, if she is. She stares back with those wide green eyes, hands clasped together as she rocks on the balls of her feet. He squints. 

“You’re serious.”

“Yeah! I’ve never had to use one to fight before.”

“Ask one of them,” he tells her dryly, gesturing vaguely to the Capitol-provided trainers. She makes a face he doesn’t know how to read, then shakes her head quickly. 

“I already tried that! They’re just interested in the Careers. The guy that was showing me kept getting distracted the whole time!”

“Right…but consider this; Why would I teach you to use something that you could then turn around and kill me with in four days?” 

“Because I won’t be able to learn enough to be at that skill level from just a lesson or two, but it might be enough to keep me from dying immediately?” she tries, grinning sheepishly. Donnie frowns and his eyes wander back towards the survivalist center. Still occupied. She clears her throat. “And also, what if I promise not to fight you in the arena?”

“What, like an alliance?” He can’t help the way his voice drips with disdain at the word as his gaze slowly move back to look at her. He’s watched enough games to know exactly how well alliances tend to go. There can only be one survivor, after all.

It’s difficult to meet her eyes, but the long strands of her hair sway when she shakes her head. Her voice comes out soft as she says, “No, nothing like that. More like a promise, I guess? I won’t kill you. You won’t kill me. We won’t have to help each other outside of that.” 

The words almost make him smile. Silly things like promises will never survive the Hunger Games, but it’s a nice thought. Probably something Raph or Mikey would take her up on. His heart does a painful little twist in his chest, and the tips of his fingers tingle. He swallows, hard, and then sighs. 

Well, not like he has anything better to do, right? The only thing he’s interested in working on at the moment is still being hogged. And papa did always say teaching others was the most effective way of honing your own skills.

“Go find a knife that feels comfortable in your hands, then come find me,” he says by way of answering, and the girl makes a small, excited noise and hurries off to do as he’s asked. Donnie watches her go with a scowl on his face, already knowing that he’s going to regret this. Raph is going to be so disappointed in him if he dies because he spent his training days helping other tributes instead of focusing on himself. But it’s not like there’s much here that he can learn from anyways…he hopes. 

He sighs and scrubs his hands over his face, then pulls them back quickly when the smell of sweat and whatever oil is used to maintain the knife he’d been practicing with hits him. Looking around to see if he can find somewhere to wash his hands, his mind drifts back towards Draxum once again and his eyes wander towards the cameras tucked away in the corners. The elevated balcony where the Capitol politicians and Gamemakers will sit is unoccupied for now, but he wonders whether Draxum or any of the others are watching them. 

I made it, Draxum had said, his fingers never stilling in their methodical examination. He had seemed to catch the way Donnie had gone stiff with surprise at those words, and he had felt more than heard the soft huff of amusement against the bare skin of his back. Goosebumps had prickled uncomfortably over his flesh.

“I was not expecting that,” he muttered, eyes staring stubbornly towards the blank expanse of wall. Draxum twisted something that made a jolt of pain light up his nerve endings, and it was only force of will that kept him from crying out.

“No, I suppose not. It would be too much to expect Lou to have ever told you the truth.”

“Lou?”

“Your father.”

“My father’s name isn’t—“

“Yes, yes, he prefers to be called Yoshi now. I’ve heard.”

Donnie had frowned at that, irritation at the dismissal of his papa fanning the smoldering embers of barely repressed rage in his chest. At his side, his fingers kept twitching and jerking without his input. A cold sweat had broken out on his brow, and it was only the trepidation at how vulnerable he was at that moment that kept his mouth shut and his hands at his sides. He wished that his papa could be in the room with him. Some support would have been nice. 

“Is this one okay?” A voice asks, and Donnie is proud of the fact that he doesn’t startle at the sudden interruption. He accepts the knife the District 11 girl is holding out to him without looking at her. It’s well balanced, and the blade is dulled so that tributes won’t accidentally (or intentionally) injure themselves during training. Its hilt feels small in his hand, but it should fit her fine.

Are tributes this small every year, or is it just a bad haul this time around? He tries to remember, but they always seemed so distant on the holoscreen. It’s usually easier not to think about the little ones. They never last long enough to leave an impression once they enter the Arena.

“This’ll work,” he says, flipping the knife and handing the dull blade back hilt-first. She accepts it with a shaky little smile he doesn’t want to look at. “Follow me.”

He leads her to a small outcropping of fake, plastic trees. They’re intended to be used to practice climbing and camouflage, but they provide enough cover that hopefully he can do this one lesson without drawing attention from the other tributes. Though he doesn’t plan on saying anything to her about it, there’s a good chance that if the others believe the two of them are planning on working together, she’ll end up with a target on her back. 

He circles her with a critical eye, adjusting her stance and the way she grips the knife. Her nails are painted, pink and sparkly, reflecting the dim glow of the buzzing overhead lights. Her knuckles have gone white from how tightly she’s holding it, so Donnie taps the backs of her fingers until she takes a deep breath and loosens her grip. Then, he takes a few steps back and gets into a familiar beginning stance. 

“Come at me like you’re planning to attack me,” he tells her, and can’t help but smirk a little at the shock that flits across her face. “You won’t hurt me, but it will be a good chance to see where you’re at.” 

She chews her bottom lip as he speaks, then slowly nods. “If you’re sure….”

“Oh, worry not. I’m quite sure you won’t be able to get a single hit in.”

Unfortunately for her chances of survival, he’s correct.

.

Donnie waits until the clock in the corner of the holoscreen reads midnight before he gives up on trying to sleep. Hours of tossing and turning in the too-soft bed are just wasted effort and lost time, and he’s finally settled enough that the idea of food doesn’t make him want to vomit. Might as well get a snack while he still has the chance. He’s sure food will be scarce inside the Arena. 

He moves with silent steps, listening carefully, almost hoping that he’ll find Kendra waiting in the kitchen again. He hadn’t seen her during the training session earlier, and she had avoided his gaze during the tense dinner hour. 

Much to his displeasure, he had realized about halfway through the meal that he did, in fact, miss what little scraps of camaraderie they’ve found with one another over the last few days. As prickly and generally unpleasant as she is, at least Kendra’s simmering fury at their situation feels familiar. It’s preferable to Atomo’s overly eager cheer or his papa’s barely masked sorrow. At least they don’t have to pretend as much when it’s just the two of them. 

Donnie sighs, shoulders slumping, when he finds the kitchen dark and empty. The light from the refrigerator feels blinding when he swings it open, and the soft suction of the seal giving way seems unspeakably loud in the sound proofed silence of the large apartment. He knows he’s allowed the freedom to wonder the cage-slash-living-quarters, and that there are more than likely already eyes watching him through the glass lenses of the cameras positioned all around the apartment, but it still feels like he’s doing something wrong by being out of his bedroom so late at night. He’s gotten used to never being left alone. It’s not a pleasant realization.

He hurries to find something palatable, settling on fruit and some plain crackers he scavenges from the cabinets. He hesitates only a second before he shrugs and decides to bring the snacks to his bedroom. After all, what will it matter to him if the apartment gets ants or he stains the fancy sheets? It’s not like it will matter; just a few short days, and he’ll be either dead or the lone survivor of 24 children. They can put him - or his body - in a different room if this one is still dirty by then. He’s not going to be in any state to care either way.

The slick tile floor melts away to plush carpet as he pads through the living room and back towards the hall lined with their rooms. He pauses briefly outside the first door, hands tightening around the edges of the plate in his hands. The ceramic makes a sound that has him cringing as his nails scrape over its surface, and he wonders if his father might finally deign to look his way if he makes an offering of food. It’s not cake, but maybe…. 

Donnie takes a step closer and does his best to swallow down his jittering nerves. It’s not like he’s never had to find ways to get his father’s attention before, but it feels much worse to have to fight for his affection when they may have one another for only a few more days. Plus, he doesn’t even have April or his brothers here to compete with. Shouldn’t it be easier now? 

His hand pauses just inches from the intricate metal plated carving that decorates the door. He frowns, and leans a little closer, ear pressed to the cold metal. He heard his papa’s voice, but who…?

For one horrible, disgusting, disappointing (but not surprising) moment, Donnie thinks it must be Atomo in there with his father. He leans back slightly, ready to turn tail and bolt, when the female voice speaks again and—

It’s Kendra. Somehow, that is both infinitely worse and also far more suspicious. He braces himself and leans close again, but though he can hear the muffled voices, he can’t make out what they’re saying. It just sounds like droning, low and secretive, rising and falling like the tide as Kendra’s anger ebbs and flows and his father fights to get a word in. 

Donnie’s throat feels tight. Suddenly, he’s not that hungry anymore. He leaves the plate of food on the little hall table he hasn’t figured out the actual function of yet and retreats to his own room, trying not to let the sting of betrayal cut too deep.

[cokowiii]

I'm tired...

Papa Draxum to the rescue!!

It is currently 4am as I type this and queue this. Im excited I drew draxum again but holy fuck im tired so fkn tired I have to work tomorrow hmgkengkfn

First | Next | Previous

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Draxum's Nightmare: A Post-ROTTMNT Movie Comic, Part 7/9

CW: anxiety attack

First || Prev || Next

Absolutely definitely completely and totally based the last panel off of @hatekawa 's comic. I loved the way she made the dialogue all blurry, it really added the desperate and hopeless emotion.... So I stole it.

[izabelfeenix]

Donnie learned young that he wasn’t liked anywhere he went…

Fun facts! Bapa is a mix of Papa and Boss, and is what Donnie ended up calling Draxum lol

Donnie's glasses are actually Draxum's spare reading glasses heheh

Draxum calls him Purple because of his markings and affinity for the color, and because it took Dee a few months after Drax took him in for the lil turtle boi to get his voice working enough to give his name

Draxum might not be a good guy (at this point in the story) but at least he's a good dad!

Until later…

[the-suicidal-lizard]

you are young that's your fault | (Rise!TMNT & Mom!Reader - Rise!Splinter x Reader)

Summary: HC’s of you being a Mom to the turtles, and slight Splinter x Reader.

Version: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Warnings: No? Not that I can thing of.

I’ve never written for the turtles of any kind, so I’m sorry if I do this wrong.

You met Lou by accident, and you met him through a small, mutant box turtle. A real cutie pie. You hadn’t freaked, and instead took the small, scared baby into your arms and fed him, rubbing his shell. Lou had rushed over, having realised he lost his youngest and freaked out upon seeing you.

You didn’t care. In fact, you recognised his hair style, despite the fact he was changing into a rat. You happily helped him, buying food and baby products, clothing and anything else he needed. Lou - now going by Splinter - was thankful, grateful.

It was only when the eldest - Raphael - called you “Mamma”, did Lou ask you out on a date.

Congratulations! You just gained a boyfriend and four sons! You then later gained a daughter through April, and a grandson through Shelldon. And an enemy in Big Mama. And, Draxum had so many bruises from you hitting him (how dare he hurt your family?). And eventually, a nephew in a Casey Jr.

You lived a strange life, but not one that you would change. And, with each one, you treated each child differently, depending on the child.

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

Raphael:

He’s the eldest, so he gets it into his head he needs to be the eldest and stop relying on his Mom and Dad.

“You’ll always be my baby.”

Cue Raphael instantly relaxing, smiling. “I know, Ma.”

Calls you “Ma”, as a way to keep his old name for you - “Mama”.

You recall that day with fondness.

He wants hugs so badly, but he’s terrified to hurt you. But you helped raise him since he was a baby, so you know how to navigate his spikes.

You make him extra large clothes, and clothes with holes in for his spikes.

When he was leader, you would pamper him and give him a massage, because he deserved it.

You hated Ghostbear... hated him. But, you would listen to your baby talk about Ghostbear.

You made and bought him so many teddy bears for him. You're the reason he loves them so much.

Mrs. Cuddles - any time she’s on screen, you switch the channel or distract him.

His fear of loneliness used to be worse when he was little, but you told him you’d always be there, watching him, and protecting him. I mean, it’s still not good... but better than it was.

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

Leonardo:

He went to Splinter and Señor Hueso for advice. But, sometimes he needed his Mother.

Calls you “Mom”.

You would sit and watch Jupiter Jim movies with him, and would listen to him info dump about the movies.

He needed hugs and head pats. Poor baby was touch starved, but tried to act like he didn’t need it.

“Hey so... Mom, if you want, obviously you don’t have to. Just for laughs. You wanna scratch under my chin? Hahaha — ”

“Would you like chin scratches baby?”

“... Yes please.”

Any joke he says, no matter how terrible, you laugh. It’s worth it, seeing his face light up.

He doesn’t trust Draxum, and he never will, so he hides behind you since you do not hesitate to take off a slipper and throw it at Draxum.

Spanish lessons together.

As much as he pranks and annoys the others, he will instantly stop misbehaving if you give him a Look™. That Look™ means he’s in trouble!

Cue the brothers saying “oooooo”.

So, just because he goes to Señor Hueso and Splinter more than you, does not mean he doesn’t love his Mom.

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

Donatello:

Needs attention. Needs physical touch. Needs affirmation. He’s the middle child, he needs attention!

You didn’t touch his shell unless he was okay with that, and you were the only one who could give him hugs and kisses - unless he specifically stated otherwise.

Sometimes would go nonverbal, so you learned Sign Language.

Calls you “Mama”, but in the same way he calls Splinter “Papa”.

“Oh Mama! Could you give me a screwdriver!”

You sometimes cover his ears if he doesn’t have his noise cancelling headphones. You’ll just stand there and keep them covered.

He dumps Shelldon on you.

(Jokes on him, you love Shelldon!)

He gets annoyed though, since Shelldon goes to you a lot when he doesn’t comply with what Shelldon wants.

Mama: Donnie? Why did my Grandbaby just come to me crying?

Donnie: He wants grapes! He can’t eat grapes! You know that!

Mama: Make a liquified grape flavour oil, or so help me God!

Sometimes he doesn’t want you to touch him. You’ve never done anything, it’s just sensory issues. So, you kiss the air around him, as if kissing his cheek. You caress the air around his cheek, never touching him, as if caressing his cheek.

The Purple Dragons are your worst enemy, and you hate them.

Sometimes, he just needs you around and he’s happy. That’s all. He loves you a lot.

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

Michelangelo:

The baby of the family, and your youngest. Therefore, constantly all over you.

Clinging to you. Hugging you. Arms and legs wrapped around you and you hold him close.

Head pats. Shell scratches.

The wall on your side of your and Splinter’s bedroom is covered in drawings and art pieces Mikey gave to you.

You taught him how to cook, and Mikey grew to love him. Gives you dishes all the time to try.

Meat Sweats and you have beef. Any time you see him, you fight him... after you forced him to sign his chef book to give to Mikey.

You didn’t treat Mikey like a baby, you treated him like an adult, much to Mikey’s delight, but at times he wants his Mom to hug and baby him.

Calls you “Momma” and “Mom”.

Mikey dislikes that you don’t get along with Draxum, so when Mikey is around, you're more tolerable of Draxum. When Mikey looks away, you give Draxum a threatening gesture.

Helped you make a photo album on your phone of them as babies. Instantly regretted it because if you're ever kidnapped, the kidnapper now knows everything about the turtles as babies, and has seen the pictures.

“Momma… you didn’t show him the one — ”

“The one where you shoved crayons up your nose? I did! You were so cute!”

“NOOOOO—!”

Mikey finds that embarrassing - especially when you showed Meat Sweats. But, didn’t mind so much when Hypno and Warren returned you out of their own free will, apologising and suddenly, he gained two new (gay? Are they evil and gay? Cool!) uncles!

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

Ultimately you love your boys and your little family.

[risestarkiss]

Hi! First, I must say I'm a big fan of your ramblings, they're always so interesting!

And also I found out something today and I needed to share it :

Okay so, I was watching Despicable Me 3 and the minions performed a song (Minions Idol - Papa Mama Loca Pipa) and it sounded... familiar? And yes, it was, because it had the exact same tune as the song in Rottmnt season 1 episode 17 : The Evil League of Mutants. And I thought, "Huh, this is too big to be a coincidence"

So I started looking it up. Despicable me 3 was released in June 2017, while Rottmnt ep.17 was shown in November 2018, but this is obviously a dead end.

After a little searching I found that the original song was actually named "I am the very Model of Modern Major General" by W.S. Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan in The Pirates of Penzance (1879) which is a comic opera.

I find it quite clever and hilarious that they would use a song from a comic opera to introduce Draxum, proving once again that he's a big drama queen.

That's it, I know it's not as interesting as your ramblings but I couldn't keep this for myself and I really wanted to share it. Thank you for reading my little rambling!

Keep up the good work and have a great day, or night !

Thank you so much! I'm so glad you like my silly little rambles. 😌💜 Yes! You are absolutely correct, but I'm even more impressed with your research!!!! Fantastic deduction work! (You've cooked and served a delicious dish. Well done! 🍛) Ok, so this song has been around for a long time and has shown up in many a cartoon/cultural reference. The one that people my age may remember is: "I Am The Very Model Of A Cartoon Individual" from the show, "Animaniacs," which aired in 1993.

The character that sings this song is Yakko, voiced by Rob Paulsen... The same Rob Paulsen who was Voice Director for Rise of the TMNT.

Thanks for the ask!!! 💜💜💜

[venelona-turtle-den]

may i present to you...

✨COUNTDOWN AU⌚✨

... an AU where Splinter did not take the lil' turtle boys with him, and so Draxum raised them to be his perfect human-killing machines.

▶ Draxum did not bother to give them names and calles them by numbers.

▶ Huginn and Muninn are the glorified babysitters.

▶ Humans are the enemy.

‼ This is Apritello AU/story. If you dislike this fact, you are welcome to block the tag and move on ‼

💖Raphael

▶ Number One

▶ Assigned leader by Draxum

▶ With the lack of a proper parental figure he is more of a dad of the group than older brother. Given that, he is perpetually stressed.

💜 Donatello

▶ Number Two

▶ Has a secret human friend since childhood. Nothing wrong with this, unless you are a mutant who is being taught to one day wipe out all of the humanity :)

▶ Was discouraged from pursuing technology for the longest time and has to use his mystical weapon

▶ POV of the story 💜

💙 Leonardo

▶ Number Three

▶ Mr Teen Angst™

▶ Rebellious lil' shit who actively dislikes the whole plan of Draxum's, and, with such, a big headache for Raph especially

🧡 Michelangelo

▶ Number Four

▶ Most attached to papa Draxum

▶ Favourite of the gargoyles, too

▶ Just wants dad's love...

I'll both draw and write for this thing, so stay tuned for when I drop chapter 1 💖✨