#the ninja turtles would be proud

[acewasnthere]

I accused someone of flooding New Jersey today and it was awesome

[forgetful-nerd]

If these two ever met they’d probably annoy the shit out of each other in a sorta older “responsible” sibling vs. younger “wild card” sibling way.

[turtleblogatlast]

Fun little silly thought I had about the Lair Games and specifically Leo deliberately losing is all the reasons he could have for doing so.

My favorite headcanon for his main motivation is that Splinter wasn’t proud of him anymore.

I imagine that, in the beginning, winning the Lair Games was Leo’s opportunity to shine. He wasn’t artistic or the baby of the family like Mikey, wasn’t a tech genius who created amazing inventions like Donnie, wasn’t the eldest who was insanely strong and dependable like Raph. So he had to shine somewhere else- anywhere else- and what better way to get attention than to be a winner? A champion?

And then he won too much. And it wasn’t special anymore. He got too big headed, too cocky, he knew this was his element and he ran with it.

Splinter’s words of congratulations slowly petered out. Suddenly, there was no real reason to win.

Winning feels empty when the only one cheering you on is yourself.

So- Leo schemed. And he’s a great schemer, fooling his whole family (and Donnie did deserve a win- people were way happier when he won.)

He even gave up his prized possession! His room!

Though he knows his brothers probably think it’s a bad prize. A terrible one, even.

Leo doesn’t sleep much as is, though. So Dad’s snores were more comforting than anything. It was reassuring to hear him so clearly alive and close by.

Even if the distance between them was larger than Leo’d like.

He’d just have to find something else, something more to show his dad that Leo was someone to trust, to be proud of, to love.

He gets his chance soon after, when he needs to pull off a plan against Big Mama at his dad’s side. Leo can only hope this victory is one that has a lasting effect when his father looks at him with pride once more.

Victory, for Leo, is a pretty loaded term.

[fabuloustrash05]

Knowing Robin Williams was a fan of TMNT, loving the cartoon show and collecting the comic books. He was such a huge fan he gave 90s movie April’s actress, Judith Hoag, tips on how to play the character, and now years later his daughter, Zelda Williams, voiced not one but TWO popular characters from TMNT.

[lillyorlyracat]

*thinks about him VIOLENTLY*

[queewp]

To the person who said they’d still pet him- made me think of this LMAO

[phoebepheebsphibs]

ITS NIGHT BUT I STILL MANAGED TO DO TODAY'S DRAWING PROMPT HAHA TAKE THAT

@sariphantom

[jazzy-mass]

“Thought you would always be right there by my side, can’t you just promise you’ll wait.” - Hands by Orkid

.

@somerandomdudelmao is really out here trying to kill us all in the best way possible /lh

[atlasthecactus]

ah yes me and my adoration for teenage mutant ninja turtles

[goldenflowerdragon]

I've been lagging here 😭😭

[eternalglitch]

Just so you know i ended up infodumping lfls to my history teacher and now i think he’s concerned about me.

He also said “atleast its not about ninja turtles.”

And then i was like “WELL UHM—“

Head in my hands. That feels like the teacher being equally disappointed in me lolol

Why do so many of you guys snitch on me to your TEACHERS it reminds me of the English teacher that would peek over my shoulder at the Undertale fanfic I was working on who then nominated me for the "most likely to make something of their writing" award in front of the entire school.

[pines-eyes]

Hate that I would tell myself that TMNT was "a baby show for kids"- what would a 13 year old Pine think of me now??

Also note; this is my first time making a comic so- :p

[extrasfromthevoid]

Draxum's Accidental Child Acquisition (part 2/?)

@tmntbestsibscompetiton

Summary: Draxum continues to be figure out how to balance being a father with molding his found child into a weapon of war.

------

Teaching Spawn to speak is a slow, arduous process, but a steady one. Draxum is starting with the standard surface tongue for now as it sees the widest use, even down in the Hidden City, but he intends to teach Spawn his native language at a later date. No sense in confusing the child’s small brain more than he has to.

Spawn still wakes crying most nights and then subsequently wakes him, either with her noise or by somehow clambering into his bed chambers and burrowing under his covers. However, the longer her lessons continue, the more intelligible her descriptions of her night terrors becomes. And they’re suspiciously consistent.

A hypothesis percolates in the back of his mind, but it's so out there that it can't possibly be true. Right?

Then one night, over the course of Draxum’s nightly observation of his young charge, he notices something in the darkness. A glow. So faint that he can only see it in near total darkness, but there is definitely a gentle golden light leaking from under Spawn’s eyelids.

Now, Draxum sits by Spawn’s bedside, bent over with his chin level to the mattress, utterly mesmerized as he watches her eyes twitch under her eyelids and small snatches of golden light leak out.

One possibility comes to Draxum’s mind as he recalls Spawn’s earlier behavior and testimonies, and the prospect excites him greatly. To think his hopeful little hypothesis actually held water!

“Incredible…,” he quietly marvels. “A human with an innate mystic gift…and such a rare one at that…!”

And he just found her wandering through the Hidden City! What luck he had to just stumble across something so rare. If Draxum thought that Spawn being his care was for the better before, he is beyond certain of it now. If Spawn’s innate gift is what Draxum thinks it is, then the humans would have had no idea how to guide her. Worse, they would have no doubt stifled and squandered her gift out of the ignorance that characterizes the human race.

Knowledge of the future is a heavy burden to bear, after all. But under Draxum’s tutelage, Spawn will bear it well.

——— “Keep your focus, Spawn!” Draxum bellows.

“Yes, Baba!"

One of Draxum’s plant constructs swings a coiled fist at the small child darting between its legs, armed only with a short blade. The construct only narrowly misses her as she rolls to the side at the last second. Draxum huffs, pleased.

Draxum purposefully made the construct to be fairly slow and lumbering, and its vines are soft rather than covered in rigid bark. Even if Spawn failed to dodge, she wouldn’t suffer terrible injury. After all, this would all be pointless if Spawn died or was badly injured during a mere training exercise.

Draxum watches on, intrigued as Spawn grabs onto the vines making up the construct’s fist as it pulls back, letting it pull her up with it. Using the momentum, Spawn climbs up the construct’s arm with impressive dexterity, slashing some of its densely coiled vines as she goes, using one to swing herself further up the creature as it quickly unravels and the creature tries to swat at her with its other hand. On its shoulder, Spawn drives her blade deep into the construct’s throat, swinging herself across the construct, dragging her blade along and severing the construct’s head. The construct stills for a moment before losing all structural integrity and collapses into a mess of vines.

Spawn tucks and rolls as the construct falls out from under her, springing back up onto her feet directly in front of Draxum, stumbling a little before standing attention with a proud grin on her face.

“Very good,” Draxum says

Spawn grins wider.

“If that was your first time,” Draxum finishes.

The grin falters and the child grows sheepish, as Draxum runs through the laundry list of mistakes she made during the exercise.

Granted, Draxum is truly impressed by the speed at which Spawn is improving. She’s grown into an excellent warrior despite her young age. If Draxum hadn’t known better, he’d conclude that Spawn had literally been made for combat, impossible though that is. But he can’t let her rest on her laurels and grow complacent. After all, if she is to lead Draxum’s army to take the surface back from the humans, Spawn will need to be more than excellent.

She will need to be perfect.

“Now. Why don’t we start with your landing?”

——— Spawn sits in the chair, her right arm belted down securely to the armrest, watching as Baba putters around his lab. She doesn’t really know or understand the specifics of what he’s doing, but knows the basic idea well enough. Baba is creating something that is supposed to make her stronger. Something that well ensure she can keep up with the army she’s meant to lead, and maybe even outpace them.

Baba had been rambling about this powerful entity that had appeared to protect the humans with strength and power far outstripping theirs. Again, most of it went over Spawn’s head, but Baba had been giddy with glee at finally attaining a usable sample of DNA from this entity, bragging that he would use it to further augment Spawn.

Spawn would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous, but she trusts Baba. He wouldn’t do this if he didn’t think she would be safe.

Baba turns towards Spawn with a syringe of glowing green liquid, a solemn look on his face.

Spawn’s anxiety churns uncomfortably in her stomach at the sight of the needle.

“Are you ready, Spawn?” Baba asks gently.

Spawn nods, pointedly looking away from the syringe before she can lose her nerve and probably her lunch.

A cold, sterile swab is rubbed over Spawn’s upturned wrist. The spot numbs slightly and then Spawn feels the needle prick her wrist, sliding expertly into her vein.

Spawn doesn’t see when Baba pushes the plunger down, but she feels it as the moment the serum enters Spawn’s body, her nerves are alight with blinding pain. Only the straps buckled around her wrist and the crook of her elbow keeps Spawn from jerking her arm away from the offending needle, but even those creak and strain ominously as Spawn bucks in her seat as the pain quickly spreads. It feels like liquid fire is being injected into her veins, so unlike the concoctions Baba has used on her to ensure her health that feel like nothing at all.

It hurts.

It hurts so much.

A scream tears itself from Spawn’s throat, raw and primal as she feels her body burn from the inside, before she even realizes.

Finally, Baba pulls the needle out just as the straps restraining her arm finally give and snap. Spawn feels the leather cut her skin, but whatever pain it produces is utterly and totally eclipsed by what roars in her veins. She pulls her arm close to her in a futile effort to dim the pain that rapidly spreads through her. Blind with this agony, Spawn tries to scratch at her arm, hoping futilely to claw the offending poison out if she had to. Her nails were surely sharp enough to pierce her own flesh.

Except her clawing fingers are ripped away again and again until it gets through to her—even in her frenzied and pain-blinded state—that something won’t let her claw her own veins out.

All she can do is continue to scream and writhe, tears streaming down her face as the pain rips and stabs and burns and breaks.

Distantly, Spawn thinks she hears Baba frantically speaking above her, but the pain is louder than his words, especially as she feels his calloused hands on her as she nearly thrashes out of the chair. His touch—usually a comfort to her—feels like a hot iron pressing against her skin, and she jerks away with a wounded yelp.

Spawn keeps screaming.

And screaming.

She screams until her voice is all gone and even after that, even though she is still consumed with immeasurable pain. Movement hurts. Stillness hurts. Touch hurts. The lack of touch hurts. Her perception of the world has been abruptly narrowed to this overwhelming pain, her thoughts wholly consumed by her misery.

Her every nerve is alight and all they have to announce is pain, inescapable and unending.

She wants to keep screaming. She needs to. If she stops, she’ll have nothing to distract from the pain she’s in and it’s already bad enough even as she screams her little lungs out. But her voice has been wrung out, reduced to choked gargles and whispers that do little to drown the deafening roar of her agony.

Spawn doesn’t know exactly when it happens, but her vision goes dark and she throws herself willingly into its depths. Anything to escape this pain. — When she wakes, Spawn finds herself cradled in her Baba’s lap, his head bowed and eyes ringed in dark circles, visible in the firelight of the parlor even in his sleep. The roaring pain has dulled to a persistent but much more bearable bone-deep ache. Her throat is dry and hurts the most of all.

Shifting minutely to get more comfortable, Baba jerks awake, looking around the room frantically before looking down at her with wild eyes.

“Spawn!?” He exclaims. “Are you alright? How are you feeling?”

“Sore…,” Spawn rasps. She grimaces. “And thirsty…”

In an instant, Baba is up, carrying Spawn in his arms. Spawn winces as she’s jostled, but Baba is beyond gentle as he carries her into the kitchen.

Baba is silent as he prepares a lidded cup for Spawn to drink from, holding her in the crook of one arm the whole time.

Spawn wants to gulp down the contents of the offered cup, but Baba keeps her intake slow and steady. When the whole cup is drained,

Spawn’s throat feels a little less raw.

“What happened…?” She asks hoarsely.

Baba forces a smile and sets the cup aside, clawed fingers lightly brushing her hair back from where sweat stuck it to her forehead.

“I-I’m sorry,” he murmurs brokenly. “I…I didn’t expect it to hurt you this much.”

Spawn leans a little into the touch, quietly thankful that even this feather-light touch doesn’t alight her nerves with agony now.

Exhaustion creeps back in, dragging her eyes closed.

“I forgive you,” she mumbles before sinking back into the depths of sleep, safe and secure in her Baba’s embrace. ——— (Previous) (Next)

[stymecoulli]

This is the beginning of a Future!Leosagi fic, loosely based on @meandtheyeehaws Leosagi, prior to them meeting (they get more similar as time goes on i swear). I have been writing this for the past two and a half hours. It is past four AM. I have work tomorrow.

I need to find a better sleep schedule.

TW: Blood, Death, Poorly written panic attacks, Angst (i suppose)

Enjoy!

-

“Okay Hana, just breathe with me, it’s going to be okay, all right?”

Usagi’s little sister heaved another breath. Her body was shaking, tears puddling in her eyes as though they were liquid themselves. Looking around at the nearby yokai, he realized she wasn’t the only one. Children, teenagers, adults alike clung to one another, sobbing. Mourning the loss of their home.

“Just in and out, like this, see? You’re doing great.”

The scream behind him rang loudly in his ears. He tugged at them for comfort before realizing they had fallen out of their band. In the midst of everything he hadn’t even noticed. He squeezed his paws into fists, a technique his Auntie had taught him, to ground himself.

Bile rose in his throat. Auntie.

His fists tightened, squeezing harder than she had probably anticipated would be necessary. He couldn’t think about her. Not when the wound was so fresh. Not with Hana right in front of him.

He could not break down now.

Not when the world was ending before his very eyes.

“You’re okay, Hana, I’m here.”

The stones lining the roof of the hidden city gave an unsympathetic CRACK in the background. The wails of dying yokai echoed around the underground. He felt the urgency of those around him tighten as more yokai flooded in, attempting to escape the same way they all were.

“I’m right here.”

The elevator to the overcity was a pitifully small thing. Used only as a last resort, it was an ancient piece of junk that couldn’t possibly carry more than ten yokai before it broke, much less the hundreds gathered around it. But it did not matter. The worthless pile of trash was the only hope left for everyone in the hidden city. Everyone alive, that was.

Usagi heard a whimper next to him, and he took Hana’s hand. She trembled and clung to her brother’s leg, terrified of the lack of space she suddenly had. Terrified because her auntie, her friends weren’t there with her. She sniffled, squeezing Usagi’s leg even tighter. He rubbed circles into her paw pads, trying to soothe her.

“Shh… Hana, I’m right here, okay! We’re almost to the overcity; we’ll be safe there.” Hana looked up, her gaze a pool of grief. Usagi’s heart panged. “It’ll be an adventure, just the two of us! We’re finally going to the overcity, just like you’ve always wanted!”

Usagi tried to keep his voice as light and airy as he could, but he knew Hana wasn’t convinced. “But I-I wanted Aun-Auntie to c-come…” She tripped over her words as her upper lip trembled. Usagi placed his paw on her head, scratching it lightly. He smiled weakly.

“Me too. But you have me, and I won’t leave you.”

Suddenly, the shrill CREAK of rusted elevator beams echoed around the caverns, its ear-piercing sound the song of hope sung by the gods themselves. Yokai everywhere crowded around him, and Usagi tried to move, tried to move forward, but the familiar weight of his younger sister was cemented onto his leg. He panicked, “Hana, let go. We have to get to the elevator, now.”

But Hana wasn’t moving. Usagi wasn’t sure she could hear him. She had been violently shivering, sobs wracking her chest. Her face was hidden away from him. Something in Usagi broke, and the realization dawned on him that he couldn’t leave the hidden city. He couldn’t leave because he would have to leave Hana, a fate worse than dying.

And as screaming yokai filtered in around him, Usagi knelt to the ground and pulled his sister in close for one, final hug. Their breathing synced up, their heartbeats becoming one. With a shattered heart and a broken spirit, he thought that this wasn’t such a bad way to die after all. Here, with his sister, he could pass in peace.

A scream, a heartbreaking, manic scream whipped through Usagi’s ears like claws on a chalkboard. Still curled around his sister, he looked up at the source of the sound, at the top of the elevator. His stomach plummeted.

A kappa was on the roof of the elevator, leaving over the rail as it descended, so far over that Usagi was scared he would fall. His scream was one filled with sadness and terror, his gaze pinned on the ground below him. Before the kappa had any chance of reaching the ground, however, his voice was drowned out by thunder.

No, not thunder. The cracking of rocks directly overhead.

Usagi went rigid.

Everything went quiet, the shock of it all blocking out every noise.

In his shock he tried to get up but couldn’t there was something on his leg

and he couldn’t move and there were too many people around and they were all

heading towards the kappa who got off the elevator and collapsed sobbing and tried to run

off away from the crowd before he was trampled and he fell because suddenly there was a rock in front of him

on top of him the rock was on top of him

Breathe, Usagi.

In, out. Like the river by the farm.

Squeeze your fists, ground yourself.

You’re okay.

Usagi was okay.

He shook his head, fighting off the shock. The kappa wasn’t the only one who was in danger, Usagi had to focus on that. He had to focus on his surroundings first. He squeezed his fists and turned to look at Hana once more. She was still on his pant leg, holding on for dear life. Good. At least one of them had something reliable to ground themselves with.

The rocks thundered in the background. Usagi felt his breath hitch, realizing there was no hope left for either of them. With his last will, he found it in himself to smile once more for his sister.

“It’ll be okay, Hana. Everything is going to be all right. I’m not going anywhere.”

A thunderous CRACK and a choir of screams indicated that his last remaining moments of life were fleeting.

The last thing he saw before his world went dark was the terrified face of his little sister, holding onto his left leg.

And the world ended.

…Or so he had thought.

Usagi’s head spun as though on an axis. His vision was fuzzy and out of focus; he couldn’t feel any part of his body. He felt paralyzed, frozen in place.

He coughed, a warm, dark crimson liquid accompanying his airway. It spilled over his eyes too, like warm honey he might have on toast. His chest ached. He couldn’t feel his body.

The adrenaline pumping through his body numbed the pain, but Usagi was aware of its presence. How could he not be, with the blood pooling around his head growing by the second? Everything ached. His body, his chest, his heart all ached from pure numbness.

It took everything in him to channel enough energy to use his muscles. He stretched his neck and shoulders, whimpering in pain. Eventually he attempted to move his arms, to no avail. He could feel them, but they felt so far away, as though they were in another plain of reality, one Usagi was not yet familiar with. His legs felt very similarly.

Except for his left leg.

No, his left leg didn’t feel distant or numb.

It didn’t feel like anything.

With all the adrenaline he could possible muster, Usagi lifted his head, momentarily fogged by dizziness. He heaved his torso upwards, crying out in pain. When he had settled, he looked forward and froze.

A rock, a thousand times the size of him, towered before him. Its granite bleakness was nothing like the shimmering sky he had grown so used to seeing. It was jarring.

He looked down. The rock had flattened his left leg, completely demolishing it to the point of obliteration. Usagi’s stomach plummeted. He felt tears brim in his eyes and creep down his face. Loosing a limb was nothing like loosing a loved one, but it was a part of Usagi. Now, he could never get it back.

Speaking of loved ones, Usagi turned side to side, looking for Hana. If the giant stone had managed to only snag his leg, surely she would be alive. The gods could have spared her; her last look of stricken terror would no longer be her final moments. As she clung to his leg—

.

His left leg.

Usagi felt the world go silent once more.

He couldn’t hear his own screams, only his aching chest. He didn’t register falling backwards, only the way that he could feel liquid pooling on a hard surface below himself. Bile rose in his throat, refusing to stay inside this time, accompanied by a never ending stream of blood that soaked his fur.

Hana.

His sister, the light of his life, was gone.

Usagi screamed and cried for what seemed like an eternity. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair, nothing was fair about this situation. Everyone had died. Auntie had died. Hana was dead. And Usagi knew, even in his state of deliriousness, a part of him had died too.

Later, much later, Usagi heard a shuffle behind him.

He couldn’t speak; too much blood clotted his throat. He couldn’t move to signify he was alive and get help, so he didn’t. He was paralyzed where he was, helpless to watch as a green yokai wearing a blue mask limped forward.

Wait.

Recognition flared through Usagi, a burning, dangerous thing. This yokai was the kappa on top of the elevator, the kappa that had destroyed the last of the hidden city. The one who killed Hana, but not him with her.

This was the yokai responsible for all this pain, and he was the one to survive.

Usagi could barely register the kappa’s cries of anguish and sorrow, suddenly too overwhelmed by rage to feel a morsel of sympathy. This yokai was a villain. He ruined the world, had killed so many people. He was worse than any villain Usagi had ever encountered.

He deserved to die.

As the kappa limped away, Usagi promised himself that he would not leave forever. As a samurai, it was his job to protect the world from evil. His heart hardened, his eyes so full of blood that he was seeing more red than not. Trying to go after him proved to be unsuccessful, as he was still trapped under the broken roof of his home. He grimaced, knowing what he had to do.

I am sorry, Hana. I don’t want to abandon you like this, but I am not sure I have much choice. I am sorry I cannot stay.

Usagi pulled out his katana from its hilter.

With all my heart, I love you.

As he sliced though his own flesh and bone, Usagi screamed. His gasps of anguish echoed around him, but to no avail. No one came.

He tore his right sleeve off and tied it around where his leg… ended in a makeshift tourniquet. Usagi opened his mouth and breathed. The air tasted like iron and salt, smelled like granite and rust. But it felt like purpose.

Usagi Yuichi had one goal at the start of the apocalypse: to end the life of the kappa who had caused so much suffering, or die trying.

For his family and the world, Usagi had to be a hero.

-

if you’re still here thanks for reading. yeah i’ll probably finish this at some point but the whole story will be like one giant oneshot like Midnight Blue and Five Cents because that’s my favorite type of fic, but it’ll be a WHILE before that happens. I just need to get this bit out there bc if not loosing that much sleep was for nothing.

have a fantabulous day!

[gollygoodle]

I completely forgot to post this um

Hello turtle nation

Based on this screenshot from Phineas and Ferb, Bobby Fabulous is sooooo Donnie coded