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twignotstick · 10 months ago

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Broken Brothers (and How to Fix Them)

Part 3 💜 | Part 1 <- 🧡 | Part 2 <- 💙

Note: This story is based on @cupcakeslushie 's Empyrean Weeping au. These characters are not my own, and this story is in no way canon to the main story. I wrote this as my love letter to the story and the characters. Especially April :)

Tags: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, ROTTMNT, Donnie & April, April & the Turtles, NOT MY CHARACTERS, Empyrean Weeping AU, recovery (hehehehehe), talking it out because we're adults, skating, social avoidance? idk how to tag that

Warnings (if there's anything I should add here, tell me please!): yelling, some violent actions

Words: 2,065

Summary: April was able to figure out her first brother easily. Now, she gets three more, with a couple more issues to worry about.

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One brother was already a lot. He was sweet, if a little violent. April was content with one brother.

Then she found out he had two more. Lost in their youth, taken away, never to be seen again. Suddenly, one wasn't enough. April wanted three brothers.

So she got them. One by one, she welcomed her new brothers into their home. She helped them feel safe and welcomed. And, in turn, they helped her learn her place as a big sister.

Now, four? Four whole brothers? That was pushing it.

Donnie was a wild card. Some days, he'd bounce around madly, blabbering about whatever “improvements” he'd made in the lair (always putting Splinter on edge, yet he could never find any problems with whatever Donnie did, probably because his brothers did damage control before he could catch it). Other days, he'd literally hiss at April until she left. Not just left the lair; left the sewers.

This day was supposed to be one of those days. Donnie was visibly shaking with all the pent up energy in him. The brothers had apparently had an “intervention” with Donnie after the previous night, when he had almost broken a major support beam in the lair just so he could collapse it on April. Now, he wasn't allowed to show violence to April in any form for a whole week. In exchange, he'd be allowed to take a single blood sample from each of his brothers, which was the weirdest trade April had ever heard. But Donnie really wanted it.

And boy, was it hard for him.

“Did you see that?! Did you see? I totally landed that one!” Mikey yelped, shaking on his skateboard.

“Good job, big man.” Raph stepped up beside him, lightly touching Mikey's shoulder and making his eyes widen as he tried to maintain his balance.

Mikey had been wanting to practice his skate tricks, and Raph wanted to make sure he did it in a safe environment. The skate ramp in the lair was perfect. Even if they were just practicing kickflips at the bottom, it was safe and contributed to good vibes.

While Raph and Mikey stood at the bottom, April, Leo, and Donnie sat at the top with their legs dangling beneath them. Well, April and Leo's legs were dangling. Donnie was perched up like a frog, knees thrown out to the sides and his hands curled on the edge of the ramp. Leo, of course, was between him and his self proclaimed mortal enemy, absorbing as much murderous intent as he could. It was a lot, to put it nicely.

“Do you think he'll ever actually get to use the ramp?” Leo asked, enjoying the spectacle of his youngest brother getting properly babied by his oldest.

“Four is definitely tough enough to survive a fall from this height,” Donnie responded cheerily. “His shell is the best of all of us. A human, on the other hand, would likely get severely injured if they were to be shoved off the edge.” His face grew the slightest grin at the imaginary violence.

“Watch the language.” Leo raised a brow to Donnie. “And it's Mikey, remember? Not Four.”

“R-right!” Donnie stammered, patting his hands on the side of the ramp. “Four is Mikey.”

“No, Mikey is Mikey. His name isn't Four, and it never was. Just like my name isn't Two, Raph's name isn't One, and your name isn't Three. You're our brother. Donatello.”

Leo was getting slightly agitated, and Donnie- or maybe Three- was starting to fidget and rock back and forth. It was clear that Leo wanted Donnie to just give up all this number talk and act like their childhoods hadn't happened. But that was just an impossible task. April could tell that this situation would be quick to spiral.

“Hey, uh, Leo?” April asked, getting his attention.

“Yes?”

“Betcha can't do an ollie.”

Leo turned fully to face April. “A what?”

“I-it's a skateboard trick…” Donnie said, causing Leo's attention to whip around again. “F- Mikey showed me a couple days ago.”

“Oh.” Leo's brow ridges tightened as he whipped back to face April. “You think I can't pull some stupid skate trick? You are so on.” Leo slid down the ramp, using his carapace like a sled. “Mikey! Give me your board!”

Donnie watched him slide down with wide eyes. “Has he… ever skated before?” He asked, mildly concerned.

“Nope. Never even touched a board.” April smirked. “He's gonna be stuck down there for at least an hour.” She looked over at Donnie, who was gazing down at his brothers with a lost glaze over his eyes.

“You wanna go join them, Donnie?”

The softshell's neck popped as he snapped to glare at April. The murderous intent that had been building suddenly channeled into his face, and he growled before standing up and stomping away swiftly toward his recently decorated room.

April glanced down at the three brothers having fun, then pushed herself up to follow the one who wasn't.

“Wait, Donnie! What's wrong? I-”

“Stop.” The turtle hissed, not turning around to face her.

“Stop? Donnie, what did I-”

“I SAID STOP IT! STOP CALLING ME THAT!” He pressed the heels of his hands into the sides of his head.

“What do you mean? Just tell me what's-”

The turtle turned on his heel in the doorframe. “JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! I don't know how to put it in a way your STUPID HUMAN BRAIN WILL UNDERSTAND!” His face morphed into a manic grin. “Goodbye! So long! Sayonara! Toodaloo! GET OUT OF MY FACE!”

The door slammed shut, and April was left breathless.

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April came back the next day to a much quieter lair. The boys were keeping space from each other, whether consciously or not. Raph was wandering around, trying to act like everything was okay. Leo was training in the dojo. Mikey was spending more time around Splinter than he usually did.

The final brother was still locked in his room.

April decided to join Mikey to bring him his second meal of the day. The first one, a small plate of rice, was still outside the door, now cold and dry.

Mikey knocked lightly, barely tapping the door with his knuckles. “Donnie?” He whispered. “I've got more food for you. It's your favorite- flavorless mush! I tested it myself, no taste at all. I promise!”

The offer was met with silence.

Mikey sighed and let his shoulders slump, backing away from the door. “I just don't get it,” he muttered pathetically. “He hasn't even come out to pee, April. Do you think he's just peeing in a cup? Or a corner? Does Donnie have a pee corner that we don't know about?”

“Mikey, it's okay.” April grabbed his shoulder. “First of all, yes, he probably does, and that just means we get to bond over cleaning his room when this is over. Second, you shouldn't have to worry about this.”

“I'm so sorry, April.” Mikey looked down to his feet. “I don't know why he hates you so much. Maybe if we hadn't-”

“Don't apologize,” April interrupted. “If anyone needs to apologize, it's me.”

Mikey looked back up at his big sister with wide eyes. “Why?”

She sighed. “Because I did something wrong.” April took the food from Mikey's hands. “I'll get him to eat. I'll text you if things go super wrong, but otherwise, ignore any loud noises. I have a feeling this might get… violent.”

Mikey puffed his chest. “Roger, roger!” He saluted and rushed down the hall, supposedly to find Raph and warn him of April's plan before he could start panicking.

April stood next to the door. “Hey, bud,” she started. “It's April. I've got your food, and I'm not gonna leave until you let me in to give it to you.”

After about two minutes of just standing there and getting no response, April sat down. She would say something every few minutes, just to remind him she was still there.

48 minutes later, the lock clicked.

April opened the door slowly. Glancing around the room, she could see the state of disarray it was in. Clothes carpeted the floor, as well as abandoned scrap projects. The turtle was cloaked beneath blankets on his bed, only his bright eyes glaring out at the invader.

She left the door open and stood to the side, getting just close enough. She didn't want him to feel threatened or trapped. She placed the (well cold by now) food next to the growling blanket pile and backed away. Waiting a second, just until he proved he would actually start eating, she spoke.

“Why don't you want me to call you Donnie?”

The pile shifted. “You just… you just can't.”

“Why not?”

“...because Splinter gave me that name. It's my name as his son. As Raph, Leo, and Mikey's brother. Not yours.”

April was about to pose a question, but the softshell suddenly sat up and started showing his anger. In the action, he also revealed the red marks growing on his arms from squeezing them.

“Because I don't care how much time you spend around us. I don't care how much One likes you, or how much Four draws you, or how much stupid stuff you watch with Two! You aren't related to me. It's scientifically impossible. We don't share any genetic material. You aren't my brother!”

With frazzled eyes, he turned and grabbed April's collar, bringing the two face to face.

“And you are most definitely not my sister.”

He shoved April away and sulked back in his den. The girl decided to take the violent outburst as an invitation to get closer, and sat on the edge of the bed.

“...that's okay.”

She only got a sniff in response.

“I don't need to be your sister. Or your brother. All I want is to be your friend. And if that means I call you something else, that's okay. Just tell me what you want me to call you, and I'll do it. Maybe I can call you Purple like Splints has been. Or I'll call you Three, if you really want me to.”

The turtle, Donnie to some, showed his face, keeping the blankets wrapped around his shoulders. His fingers were digging into his upper arms.

“And I know you might not like me, but I'm not going anywhere. Your brothers like me, and they'll be upset if I go away.” When she saw the softshell's grip tighten, she quickly added, “And I know that if they had to choose, they'd pick you. But they don't have to. They don't want to.”

The turtle stared aimlessly in front of him. “...I don't… I…”

“I can just not call you anything if you can't decide. Y'know, just call you ‘dude’ and stuff.”

His shoulders lifted higher, touching the sides of his chin. “That… that works…”

April smiled wide. “Great.”

The two sat there, just accepting each other's company. Donnie's tight posture slowly loosened, and April focused on making sure his breathing was even.

This poor boy had never known true family. He had never known learning to trust people and taking them in. He had never been taken in. This concept, choosing family, was so foreign. Because to him, family wasn't something you could choose.

April would never allow that. Never again.

“...sooo, do you have a pee corner?”

“What?!”

April held her hands up defensively. “Mikey said you haven't come out to pee! I just wanted to know if you had a pee corner!”

“No?! Why would you automatically assume I have a pee corner?”

“Because you haven't come out of your room to pee! What, do you have a pee cup instead?!”

“No!”

“Then what have you been doing?!”

Donnie pointed to a spot in the room, and April looked over to see a very D.I.Y. toilet, made of scrap metal welded together. (She could recall that Donnie's welding materials had been taken from him weeks ago.) “I hooked it up to go straight into the tunnels,” Donnie boasted proudly. “I even dug the holes myself! Digged? Dug.”

“...yeeeah, we're getting rid of that,” April grimaced.

“WHAT?! WHY?!”

“YOU KNOW VERY WELL WHY.”

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[In time, Donnie would let April call him by his name. And, in time, he would learn that his name was his, and his alone.]

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And that's it! Totally! April has started on her long journey to fixing all of her broken brothers! She has NO OTHER BROTHERS THAT HAVE ISSUES, why would you ever think that 🟥🐢

This part gave me quite a few problems. Knowing that the "Maps" comic is probably going to explore April and Donnie's relationship, I was a little scared about making assumptions. Also, you don't realize how difficult it is to write someone who isn't all there until you're actually trying to do it. Eventually I just said "screw it, if he's out of character, its fine". So now we're here :)

ALso, no one tells you how motivating and powerful the high you get when someone you look up to praises your work is, I thought this would take me WAY LONGER to finish 🤡

aanyway, congrats to all the tmnt au comp winners, again. Can't wait to see who moves on from here :D

Part 4 -> ❤️

#tmnt #tmnt au #tmnt fanfiction #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt #tmnt separated au #separated au #tmnt au propaganda #tmnt april #tmnt donnie #twig writes

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snappedsky · 7 months ago

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ROTTMNT: Retired Leo AU

Leonardo helps April with a job interview.

Mr. O’Neil

April slumps down the subway tunnels, head low and feet dragging. When she enters the lair, Leonardo is sitting in the TV chair with Splinter on his lap; Leo and Casey are sharing a beanbag chair as they play on their phones; Donnie and Raph are facing each other in a video game on the TV; and Mikey is sitting in the other beanbag, watching them.

April drags herself across the room and collapses face first on Mikey’s beanbag, groaning.

“Hi, April,” he says happily.

“Hi, Mikey,” she mutters. She groans again as she rolls over onto her back, dragging her hands down her face. “I’m gonna remain a jobless loser forever.”

“Why, what happened now?” Donnie asks apathetically.

“I applied to be a security guard at the mall,” April explains.

“Oh, you’d be good at that,” Casey remarks.

“I know!” she agrees, “but because I’m not 21, and because I’m a woman- they didn’t actually say that part, but I’m sure it’s gotta be one of the reasons- they want my parent to come in with me for the job interview.”

“So what’s the problem?” Raph asks.

“My mom will never agree to the job,” April replies, “she’s been real worried about me lately and wants me to stay safe and responsible and whatever.”

“Does she not know that you helped saved the planet from a hostile alien invasion?” Leo asks.

“That’s part of the reason she’s worried,” she clarifies, “she doesn’t know I helped fight the Krang, but I was away from home during the whole invasion. And I’m always staying out late and often coming home with bruises. I feel bad for stressing her out all the time, but I really want this security guard job.”

“Well, April,” Splinter says, “I will gladly pose as your father for the interview.”

“Uh, I appreciate that, Splints,” April replies hesitantly, “but I don’t think anyone would buy that we’re related.”

As he pouts, she looks past him up at Leonardo, who’s mostly focused on his can of soda. “But, Leonardo! You could totally do it!”

“Huh?” he questions as April jumps up to her feet and grabs his arm.

“You’re great at sweet talking people,” she points out, “you could pose as my dad and convince the manager to give me the job!”

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt au #rise leo #rise donnie #rise raph #rise mikey #rise splinter #rise april #rise casey #rise sunita #future leonardo #original characters #retiredleoau #myart

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rufwooff · 6 months ago

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Mkey

Dnne

#ruf doodles #rottmnt #michaelangelo #never part again au #rottmnt never part again au

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nikaserb · 4 months ago

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#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fanart #tmnt #my art #rottmnt movie #never part again au #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt never part again au

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mrabubu · 4 months ago

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I'm cooking Or smth...

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thankchaosforspellcheck · 9 months ago

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Post ROTTMNT season 2 au where Mikey overhears Splinter talking about his past relationship with Big Mama with Leo and like wishing that his last real romance hadn't ended on such a bad note.

Mikey decides to Do Something About This.

But instead of trying to redeem Big Mama (which he's still TOTALLY planning on doing, just not now) he reasons that what Splinter REALLY needs is to Get His Mojo Back!

SO he decides to set him up on a series of blind dates in the Hidden City.

All of these dates are of course ruined in a myriad of horrible and hilarious ways; the waiter trips into the table, the boys (who are spying on this) not-so-accidentally drive the date off, at least one date is so terrible that they drive SPLINTER off, etc.

This all accumulates with Splinter being even more depressed than he was before the dates, sad and outside the restaurant in the rain.

Only for an umbrella to suddenly block the rain, and a charming Yokai woman about Splinter's age holds out a hand.

They go to a nearby bar and start talking, it turns out she's a former actress who used to star in action flicks on the surface with a cloaking broach she rented out, so they have plenty in common.

They both have a grand old time, laughing and chatting about their glory days, never going to in depth to preserve that magic.

At the end of the night they part ways, but the yokai leaves a card with Splinter saying he can call her again sometime, maybe they can go out sometime.

The card is simple, elegant, and has in bold, curly letters her name:

Tang Shen

#rottmnt #rottmnt writing #fic ideas #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #master splinter #lou jitsu #tang shen #I just think (while the easter egg they had for her was fun)#that using this as the chance #to actually flesh out tang shen as a real person #and how their whole relationship works #would've been FANTASTIC

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pianocat939 · 2 years ago

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Celina, I had the most random thought about a yandere rottmnt isekai au.

I was rewatching some rottmnt earlier and I noticed how I barely commented on anything, aside from a smile and a small chuckle here and there. It got me thinking…

What if m/c was like that? What if m/c never really commented at all aside from a few chuckles and small comments sprinkled throughout an episode? Maybe they are a bit of an introvert too? How would yandere rottmnt turtles react to this?

I think they would go insane trying to find any information at all about m/c, and at first it isn’t even because of their yandere-ness! They just want to know who the heck is watching them!

I think that they may try to do things to make m/c speak, but they wouldn’t outright reveal themselves as able to hear m/c (let’s be real here, if you found out an entity beyond your realm was watching you, would you instantly let them know you are aware of them or would you at least try to make sure they are safe first?).

Soon, m/c’s voice becomes… addicting. The boys constantly crave m/c’s voice and comments, doing anything to know more about them and just hear them again! This is amped up if m/c gives them small compliments here and there… especially with Donnie and Leo… (The turtles would probably develop the belief that the only reason they can hear m/c and no one else from m/c’s realm is because m/c belongs in their realm…)

Then they try to break into m/c’s realm…

Donnie would most likely be able to connect with the tech first with his nimpo, then he would hack into any device near m/c. Cameras, laptops, phones, everything! It isn’t long before the turtles learn more about m/c than they would’ve ever known beforehand, maybe even more than m/c themself…

It isn’t long before Donnie hacks into m/c’s phone and establishes a connection between the turtles and m/c’s devices…

Poor m/c would have no idea who these random people who sound-er, text?- a lot like their favorite characters from ROTTMNT. I doubt the turtles would give themselves away immediately, they would most likely bide their time and gain more information on m/c (This could also be translated into your sentient AI thing you have going on).

They would only reveal themselves in person, once the portal is ready and they can take what rightfully belongs in their world. M/c wouldn’t have the chance to run before they are dragged away, kicking, screaming, and crying, out of their own reality…

“Why are you fighting us, dear? Don’t you love us? Our reality is- No, stop fighting us- our reality is much better than this bitter and cold world, you won’t have to worry about anything ever again!”

(Bonus if Donnie hacks into m/c’s friends and families phones so Dr. Delicate Touch can have a few words with them…)

(I’m sorry, It’s almost midnight for me and I HAD to share this idea with someone :,/)

Me at 3 AM 3 hours later-

Someone send help I cried because of an angst story but now I'm dehydrated but I'm too scared to go get liquid bcs I'm pretty sure someone is on the couch and I'm far too paranoid for that shit-

Tw: Raph gets a little- too dependent on MC speaking, Mikey glorifies his position, mentions of manipulation + anxiety

First of all, delicious idea you got here- as always I'll just add a little tidbit.

Imagine occasionally they accidentally whisper or mumble when they hear you speak in the rare moments that you do. Like with me, I either talk to myself about somewhat off-topic things or just say the most basic compliments that are more or less for my self-indulgence in expressing my true feelings. (We'll go with compliment bcs that makes more sense in terms of yan development)

"Donnie is so skrunkly when he's feral I love it-"

*Donnie who was just having a typical "who's better" debate with Leo* "Oh won't you look at that...I'm loved even in times of undomesticated behaviours~" *he's very smug, and definitely is bouncing with joy internally*

I think for the most part Donnie, Leo, and Raph react pretty similarly. They kinda just have an odd pull to the weird ass voice they occasionally hear sometimes, wanting to find out more about it. So they can cling to it as emotional support.

But Mikey?

He is legit going to think he's some prophet of this mysterious voice which he believes is a superior being. Like even the smallest comment will literally make him whisper to himself- "Oh my divinity, I am a follower of your every word.." Wouldn't be surprised if he has heart eyes istg-

But if his bros say they can hear it too, he will literally be so pissed. He'll accuse they're lying and basically manipulating him into thinking he's not special. I wouldn't be surprised if he busts out Dr. Delicate Touch to start accusing them of any crime that fits with the situation. And in the end, he'll always conclude with "I'm the only one who gets to be the chosen one of my divinity~ so stop lying alright?"

Also there's one thing I want to point out with Raph, I feel he would get attached to the voice so bad over time that he either A. cannot make any rational decisions without it or B. he gets super anxious if he doesn't hear it in his head 24/7. I feel he would nickname it like, "my secret voice" or "my mind plushie".

Leo and Donnie definitely fight the most about the voice, but they also plan together the most when it comes to finding out more about the owner of the voice. But their intentions with each other are never mentioned.

(this was such a half-assed rant but surely it should be a little insight on my thoughts).

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere rottmnt #yandere tmnt #rottmnt #tmnt #rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2018 #rise of teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #blurbs

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klunkcat · 8 days ago

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sun digs its heels

rottmnt characters: mikey & klunk & oc part of the archer au by @goodlucktai!

trigger warning for animal death in this (not on screen) read on ao3

Days seem sometimes as if they'll never end Sun digs its heels to taunt you But after sunlit days, one thing stays the same Rises the moon Liana Flores, Rises the moon

The night Mikey has to say goodbye to Klunk is just a regular day in December.

Life is funny like that, he thinks; you find things and lose them in nearly perfect semicircles. The world feels like it’s supposed to stop right there in its tracks, the sun burnt right up in the sky, but it goes on. People step across the grates on their way to work, cars beep in the streets, and nothing changes. It’s a hole punch through the wet paper of your heart, a boulder in the middle of a river, but somehow you breathe around it anyway. The ripples grow farther and farther out to the horizon until you nearly convince yourself they’re leaving.

You’re the orbit: the tragedy stays. You never learn.

Regular days for him are a long continuous trudge down an empty hallway anyways. There’s nothing to count meaning by, really. Home hasn’t felt like home in a long time, just a place he has to go. Sometimes he fantasizes about getting up, springing up from the cold couch like he used to have the energy for and sprinting straight down the sewers all the way out to Times Square. Sometimes there’s a rage in him that could demand that the world shut itself down the same way his family has.

Parts of him crave the idea of just running until it stops feeling like sludge and concrete in his heart just to exist here like this. He stares at the front door without meaning to, drawn back again and again. Sometimes he thinks he can almost break through the pins-and-needles numbness in his scarred hands and move, and then he’ll hear Don’s chair squeak down the hallway, or the click of Dad’s door, and it leaves him all at once.

For a while the gravity well that kept him locked in step was just as simple as Klunk. The world’s sweetest cat, but not quite talented enough to open his special kidney care food all on his own. No one was left to love him right if Mikey went away, so he stayed put.

Don regularly got too swooped up in his projects and missed hours entirely, even before everything else. He couldn’t feed himself at the right times without Mikey sliding post it notes or leaving saran wrapped bowls in the fridge for him to graze on, let alone a pet. Raph… slept. More than he probably should. Crept around in the shadows and worked himself half to death at whatever odd jobs he found when he wasn’t. And Dad was— well. Mikey wasn’t sure how Dad felt most of the time. He couldn’t leave Klunk with him either way.

(There’d been a long warm stretch of sepia toned years where he’d have thought of Dad and warmth as the same words spelled in different ways. None of the words fit together like that anymore.

If he closes his eyes, he’s back there. Nursing a fractured elbow and staring up at the sky like it could house a miracle. Listening to the static coated goodbye message of someone none of them could bear to lose. None of them ever left the island, not really. They’re all watching the sky tearing itself apart and drifting farther away.)

Once, he’d have said that Klunk was spoiled rotten, completely overflowing with love and attention in all the ways the smartest cat in the world should be. Before Klunk needed special diet wet food only, Don had rigged up an automatic feeder for him and a machine that would give him scritches behind his ears if Mikey was away on a mission too long. Raph would let him climb all over his shoulders when he worked out and send Snapchat selfies to their group chat of the two of them with silly captions most days.

Leo used to call him Sunspot.

Finding Klunk had been something special, he used to brag about it a lot. Kismet souls colliding, he’d say because he read it somewhere on an artist's post and adopted it for them. A soul cat, because Klunk was the perfect cat and so sweet, and always rubbed his fluffy head right under Mikey’s chin when he was stressed over a drawing or a comic cliffhanger or when he was sorting through grocery lists.

Now, it’s hard to think anything cosmic could have ever minded him. He thinks it’s the way things go: something good comes in, and it can’t stay.

Mikey can’t make it stay.

The regular day in December stands out even without the semi circles funneling back. A regular day is also a bad day; most days float somewhere ambiguously between barely manageable and knock down all out brawls to claw through the evening. There’s something frigid around each step forwards, even before Mikey knows.

When Mikey wakes up he knows that Dad hasn’t moved since last evening, his room still and dark, and Don’s circular stages have taken him all the way back to bargaining. He’s lost in another project around timelines and paradoxes that Mikey knows will only sink him down further into that barbed wire place the grief sits. He’s fixated on something, a project to help dad’s memory maybe. Or to mend his own. The way Donnie’s eyes land just to the left of Mikey’s face when he stops by still cranks up the dread in his chest like a vat of acid boiling over.

(‘I can fix this,’ he’ll say, not with words but in the set of his jaw and the sudden feverish flicker of his hands. It never lasts, it’ll tire him out worse and drag him farther out to sea to believe it. “There’s a new study,” he says instead. “They found proof, traces of old collapsed universes.” Mikey will nod, carefully wedging himself on the ledge of Don’s empty cup laden desk, trying not to drum his fingers or let any of his nerves through.

“There’s been ones, maybe just like ours. Expanding all the way outward and sinking back in, the science is there.”

Mikey will steel himself, brace for impact. “The science for what, Don.”

He can never say it, Donnie can never make himself believe it. There’s another universe out there to him where he’s still one part of two wholes; it’s not the one that Mikey got for them.)

Don’s mostly outside himself these days. He says a lot of harsh words and burr laced insults for the want of being alone. Mikey can’t fault him for it, has only ever been grateful that he has the miracle of Don sticking with them anyways. It’s hard not to think Donnie knows, with every inch he creeps forward into this halflife. The magnitude Mikey failed him.

He’s never blamed Donnie.

He ends up calling April, just for the excuse to be somewhere else for a minute. To satiate his guilty, constant urge to run. She’s always happy to have him, even though she doesn’t come by much anymore, even though she glances at him sideways sometimes with a resigned sort of helpless loss he can’t hold enough of for both of them. The relief is enough, to know there’s a world still outside of the haunted house his life has become, even if he also wants it to stop.

She hands him tea, brewed exactly like he likes it (like Leo taught him to like best) and he listens to the clock ticking loudly on her yellow painted wall. He still thinks he could run. He always thinks he could run. He can’t leave Klunk.

Klunk’s getting old.

April takes a breath in, pauses. Gives him another quick side glance before saying, “How’re things?” All hesitantly and unsure, like she thinks Mike might be mad. He doesn’t have it in him to be mad about anything anymore, least of all his big sister that won’t come home.

He manages a shrug for her. It’s been okay, he means to say, because it’s what he always says.

“Worried it’s too cold down there for Klunk,” he says instead.

April’s eyes widen slightly before she schools herself. Her hands are tight around her own mug. “You can bring him up here, Mom won’t mind.”

(She’s been taking care of her mother lately, she’d had a bad fall. June was always happy to see Mikey just like April was. Everyone was always happy to see him. He wonders if they would still if they knew.)

Klunk would love the windows. All the smells and the carpet. They’d remember to feed him, too. Could probably get him the vet care he needs, and would have the funds to fix whatever might be wrong. It would be an excuse for Mikey to—

No, he smiles ruefully. He was never going to run.

(He can’t be the thing that leaves, he knows he’s always going to be the thing that's left.)

“Thanks, Apricot,” he pats her knee. “Think that might be a big scare for him, is all.”

She nods like she knew what his answer would be already. “Well, if you change your mind. He’s always welcome.”

You’re always welcome, she means. Like she has to say it, like things have strained so far apart it might be a question anymore.

Like it maybe doesn’t go both ways.

The old him would have had some inspirational thing to say, some soft spoken hand-held speech to convince her that her place with them will never change. The new him knows they lost all of their words the moment the purple in the sky ripped apart into orange and green. He mostly just lets her hold his hand and pretend like the pieces of their hurt are something that can be scooped into anything meaningful.

“Love seeing you, M,” she says kindly, every time, but he knows Casey stays there most weekends when he works late at his new job, and the unspoken everything between them is making her choose between family in a way she shouldn’t need to. She has a job, a career now. She has responsibilities they never had as kids when she could drop her bags off at the dinner table and slouch her way onto their overstuffed couch. She can’t be there and up here helping Casey sort things out, she can’t be there and watch them anymore than Mikey can.

(The thing about grieving is that it never folds up small enough to carry only within yourself. It spills out, black holes and whirlpools in everything you’ve ever loved. It hurts everyone with you, and there’s nowhere for the love or the blame to go.)

It’s hard for her, too. Big sisters and big brothers and all. It’s hard for Mikey to let himself be little anymore. He can manage.

He never stays longer than a few hours, drives the smaller motorcycle Donnie made for them years ago so nobody will miss him too much. Don has trackers upon trackers, and the loss has made his need to know a more paranoid fragile thing, but he never asks.

Going home isn’t anything— Don’s stuck on the evening to late night shifts at his remote gig, which suits his sleep schedule mostly alright. It means he won’t be around for Mike to talk to, because the job restructuring means that he has to take incoming calls instead of the management role he’d been promised. Raph hasn’t said anything more than a hollow ‘hey’ at him in weeks. He pretends the way he has Dad’s schedule mapped out in his mind as a series of Do Not Enter’s is normal.

The radio plays a song he’s growing to hate. He takes the long way home and turns the volume up.

It’s winter, there’s the barest hint of snow in the air that twirls under the streetlight on their garage’s street. He remembers the first time they ever came up top in the winter, the way his hand had been firmly wrapped in Raph’s mitted one because he’d wandered off so much as a kid. The way Leo had tried to dare Mikey to stick his tongue to a fence and Donnie had burst into a series of lectures about frostbite. He remembers the smirk Leo gave him, the secret one he used to have only for baby brothers, before he’d shoved a handful of snow down the back of Raph’s too big parka.

The winter is just cold now. The snow only means driving will be harder in the morning— he tries to remember if he has ingredients for anything special for dinner and gives up. No one will eat it anyways.

April likes to give him care packages for the weeks he doesn’t stop by, and thoughtfully includes a special goodie bag of cat toys and treats. He’s been using them sparingly, mostly because Don says they don’t have the budget for the kind of treats Klunk likes. He wonders if Donnie has factored in the pizza he hasn’t been ordering— mostly because he keeps defaulting to toppings Leo likes and losing his appetite— but he’s not sure it matters. Regardless, it feels like an anniversary of something.

Tonight is a good night to spoil his best pal, an early Christmas present.

The Lair is empty and dark when he wanders in, and the sigh he lets out echoes into nothing. Klunk doesn’t meow happily and trot over to him like he used to, but he’s older now and sometimes naps under Mikey’s bed where it’s warm. The familiar tuft of greying orange appears like clockwork the moment Mikey has a throw over his legs and a crinkling package in his hands.

“There you are, buddy,” Mikey coo’s at him, leaning down to lift him onto his lap. Jumping is harder for him, he’s done enough research about kitty arthritis and its signs. Klunk’s getting old in all the ways Mikey feels.

He’ll be twenty five next year. Every stolen second feels like an eternity and nothing at all.

His big brother had been sixteen: the year Mikey turned sixteen, he’d spent the entire day curled up on Leo’s bed. Raph had left a lopsided cupcake in the doorway with a single candle, and sat down on the floor beside him without saying anything. They stopped counting Donnie’s.

(Leo used to sing him to sleep sitting on the floor beside him, just there. He’d wake up bleary as anything at two in the morning and find him with his head tilted back, tapping the beat to his favorite song softly on the sheets by Mikey’s ankle, scrolling through his phone. The missing of it is a hole he’ll spend his whole life dancing around, he understands why Raph sleeps.)

Holding Klunk feels like nothing, his skin holding a heartbeat and a warm pocket of love in between his bones, and nothing else. He’s still soft; Mikey presses his face into the back of Klunk’s head and thinks about universes.

(In the morning, Klunk will be gone. He’ll do Mikey the favor of not having to contend with medical details they don’t have access to, or the horrible long drawn out playing god decision he doesn’t want to make. Quietly slipping out the back door, smartest boy in the world as always. Mikey will doze off on the couch and find him, and tears he doesn’t think he has left in him will burst through anyways, and he’ll sit for hours just outside of Donnie’s door without ever daring to make a sound.

Raph will find him, of all people. He won’t remember throwing himself into the crush of Raph’s arms, or the way he’ll press his beak into the divot of his shoulder. He’ll remember his heart spilling over and shattering in the cold winter air and think that he only has his family when they’re all sinking down with him.)

He’s alone in his loving of Klunk. Klunk’s always been his. Maybe it will be a comfort to think of a pawprint just his size living inside Mikey’s heart, or to imagine Leo lurking nearby, just outside of Mikey’s broken ninpo. Ready to scoop his Sunspot into his arms and doze off on the couch together again. Maybe Don will stumble out for his mid day coffee and find Mikey curled over something that’s already wandered away, and remember himself outside his grief long enough to hold Mikey under his chin like he used to.

In the morning is a long time away.

When he’d found Klunk it had been on a day like this. Mid December, frosty outside in the thin sheet of snow that ever existed in New York. It had been a lot louder then. April and Dad and Hueso, and a family that existed in shared spaces like it was the one place they always fit. Warmer and lighter, lights thrown on and noise everywhere.

Now, he keeps blankets stocked on his favorite corner of the couch, and folds them up neat for guests they don’t have. He gets colder, easier.

He’s had Klunk for twelve years. They’d been coming back from April’s place, the new lair still feeling expansive and unexplored, feeling light and jazzed up in the way youth does. He remembers that there’d been a mugging in an alleyway, that the fight with Shredder was still fresh on their minds. Mikey’d been all but unstoppable. He’d shared a half glance with Leo before his big brother had smiled back, all smiling easy confidence as he opened up a portal for him and said ‘showin’ them the Angie special?’.

He almost hadn’t seen the cat behind the dumpster at all until he’d thrown one of the thugs into a wall and the ka-thunk of the lid had scared the thing straight out into Mikey’s arms. The way he’d immediately started purring while Mikey had stood there stunned made his brothers snicker.

‘Told you to stop going dumpster diving, Angie, he thinks you smell like munched up fish food,’ Leo’d joked.

‘Great, another thing for Raph to be allergic to,’ Donnie had sighed.

‘Raph’s not allergic!’ Raph had complained, eyes watering. ‘This is adorable! He matches your mask, little man.’

Mikey had held the tiny, scrunched up ball of hackled fur and gotten an almost instant green eyed blink back. ‘Yeah? How’s that sound, buddy? Wanna match with me?’

The cat had sneezed, and carefully stretched a paw up to hook onto the ledge of Mikey’s plastron. He remembered thinking Gram Gram might have sent him at first, or that they’d found each other in some other past life, or that he had a magic way with cats. He thinks now that Klunk just loved like that.

Big and open, bright enough for the whole world.

Leo and Klunk had spent a lot of time together, he remembers. When he was smaller and more likely to spring up on all of them around corners and fight their bandanas from the backs of their shells, it seemed like he ran off an endless battery. With Leo’s chronic issues with sleep, it made for a perfect pair.

Sometimes he’d wander in to fry up breakfast, turn on the big overhead lights in the kitchen, and find Leo curled up just outside on the couch. Klunk bundled in a tiny ball right on his stomach, snoring with him.

Semi circles stretching out beyond the horizon. His blankets stay folded.

Klunk rumbles at him now, wide green eyes staring at him as he stretches slowly on his lap. Mikey lets him purr and nudge his cheek into his finger happily. “Long day of catching Z’s, my man? Least one of us has it all figured out.”

Klunk pads at his legs, curling slowly into the divot and settling down. Burying his face between his paws as the TV lights bounce off his fur in the background.

He doesn’t move very fast anymore. He can’t jump, he doesn’t eat all of his food. Mikey watches his sweet boy pace aimlessly around stone floors like he can’t remember where to go. Everything Mikey has in his day to day is someone else's, but Klunk has always been his.

“I love you,” Mikey tells the sunshine burst of peppered fur right there on his lap. “I wish you could stay.”

Tomorrow, he’ll have to consider how thin Klunk is getting, or the way he paces aimlessly, or the rabbit-quick way he breathes. Tomorrow, he might creep into Raph’s room and see if his big brother is awake enough to let him crawl into bed beside him like he used to, like he’s still small enough to want things and ask for them.

Tomorrow he’ll have to be okay with another kind of missing, even if he doesn’t want to.

Right now, Klunk is warm against his knee. He’s loved because Mikey loves him. They don’t have anywhere else they’re supposed to be.

Mikey scratches the top of Klunk’s head and tries to be something warm enough to stick around for. He knows the leaving is not up to either of them anyway.

There’s a gentler world, one where Mikey gets to know he was always strong enough. One where there’s no floodwaters to sink in, no need to float.

An unfamiliar turtle brings his big brother home, and there’s nothing at all to miss.

Sometimes Mikey wakes up feeling lost, a deep dark place he can’t name sputtering and going dark for all of a moment, terrifying him in a way he can’t explain. The kitchen lights, he thinks, nonsensically, and scrambles out of bed in a flurry just to make sure they’re still on.

It’s never cold here, not even in the winter. The couch is messy with snack bowls they forgot to put away, and dragged in blankets from all of their bedrooms. He shivers anyways.

Days like this he thinks of ripples in pond water. Big long stretches of silver circles spinning out infinitely. He thinks about the news on TV he heard the other day, about universes from millennia ago: there’s an old sob caught in his ribs he thinks must not belong to him.

The door slides open, a quiet click.

Gio stands there, strangely soaking wet and bedraggled in a way Mikey’s sure he’s never seen. In the six months he’s known the guy, he’s always been a steady, stoic source of calm and cool. Sometimes it’s funny to watch, Gio with his flat expression in between the twins, bouncing and raving off some bit only they understand, hands on his shoulders like he’s a launching pad for their next insanity. He always thinks Gio looks happy underneath it, though, the kind that’s soul deep.

Dark eyes blink at him in the darkness across the Lair. “Oh,” Gio says, simply. “You’re up.”

Mikey plods forwards, as unafraid as anything with Gio. “You’re freezing,” he gasps, pulling at Gio’s scarf. It’s bunched up strangely at his front, he hopes he didn’t rip it again. Gio had gotten all quiet sad last time, which was a travesty worth committing several crimes for. “Were you sewer swimming? It’s December!”

Gio shakes his head, pauses. Nods. Mikey plants his hands firmly on his hips with his lower lip jut out— Gio always gives him a strange look when he lectures him like this, but he listens. Mikey sees him listen. “Turtles don’t do well in winter, you know. If you froze into a popsicle, I’d have to fish you out, and that would definitely bother Raph.”

“Sorry,” Gio says, all fond and sly like a secret he’s keeping. “Emergency.”

He holds the wet front of his scarf out, and a tiny orange head pushes through. “Oh,” Mikey says.

Green eyes blink at him, it sneezes.

“You found a cat.”

Gio shrugs. “He found me.”

Mikey reaches forward tentatively, the poor thing's hair sticks straight up on the top of its head. Damp as anything. The cat sniffs at his hand, then rumbles happily at him, pushing its face directly into his palm.

Gio pushes the pile of fabric into Mikey’s arms. “He looks like you.”

Yeah, he thinks of ponds and ripples and universes. He does, doesn’t he.

#rottmnt #my fic #rise of the tmnt #hamato michelangelo #hamato giorgio #the archer au #this is basically just me having big feelings about my old lady cat sorry

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