#to be fair i am not all that familiar with the turtles beyond rise and a bit of 2012

[singingshutin]

It makes me a little sad to see the fans of different iterations of the turtles fight with each other about which is the best when, really, as a franchise that started off as a parody of Daredevil - each version seems to me to be a reflection of what superhero tropes were popular at the time. It went from a dark riff on Marvel comics, to the goofy Saturday morning cartoons from the 80s, skipping ahead to 2012 which took itself more seriously as a band of crime-fighting ninjas (while not abandoning the comedy altogether), to Rise - the chaotic, clearly anime-inspired show, with the focus really being on family dynamics. Whatever was cool or popular at the time of each version's inception is the basis for each one's storytelling - a condensing of culture at the time.

[goodlucktai]

If you’re still taking prompts could I suggest maybe some Mikey and Splinter goodness? Preferably 2k12 (because we are all in need of more of them, right?) but whatever floats your goat :) I’ll read anything from you lol :3

unfortunately i still have rise brainrot so have this humble beginning of a human!splinter au instead <3

x

For all that his imprisonment felt like it aged him by decades, Yoshi really wasn’t gone for more than three years. He finds out when he drags himself into the blinding lights of the Manhattan rush hour and staggers drunkenly to a bodega to snatch up a newspaper. 

Three years. After all the things he’s seen and done, that is what he can’t believe. The date is far more impossible than Hidden Cities and yokai masquerading as beautiful roadies. Three years.

His talent manager, a short, round woman who never liked Big Mama for reasons Yoshi had previously shortsightedly misconstrued as jealousy and now considers a god-given gift of clairvoyance or at the very least insane intuition, is near-apoplectic with rage but somehow not angry enough to have deleted his number. Hers is the first call he gets when paparazzi pictures leak of “Lou Jitsu Spotted in Midtown! Thrilled Fans Speculate Secret New Project in Works!”—which is a fair assumption, given that he’s still dressed for the Battle Nexus and looks like he just rolled out of a warzone. 

“What secret project is it, exactly?” Hala demands in that very level tone that only ever precedes her losing her absolute shit in a big way. “Something your agency should know about, maybe? Something you should have explained before you dropped off the face of the planet for MULTIPLE YEARS?”

“Probably,” he says weakly. 

He’s more than a little bewildered. For so long, his only interactions with any living creatures were the pit fights he was thrown into. He doesn’t know how to handle the sense of normalcy in a phone call from a friend. It’s hostile, sure, but not in an immediately life-threatening way, and Yoshi has to stare really hard at the Caller ID so his face doesn’t crumple with overwhelmed tears when Hala says his name. 

It’s not entirely surprising that his townhouse is still here, exactly the way he left it before that ill-fated dinner date, given that all fees and payments are set up to come out of his accounts automatically—but it’s still a lot to process. That he could just walk out of one world and into another one. Step through a vaguely familiar door into a former life. 

For years he didn’t have anything but an empty cell. It shouldn’t be possible that he could be surrounded by wealth now. He doesn’t know what to do with the luxury furnishings. He’s almost certainly staining his sofa beyond repair just from sitting on it. 

He got home six hours ago. He’s been in a stupor since then, with a precious bundle of stolen cloak and baby turtles sleeping soundly in the crook of his arm. 

“—even listening to me? Lou, I swear to—”

“No, I am,” Yoshi lies. “Uh, look, can I call you back?”

“Oh, do you have something more important than your entire career to deal with?” Hala asks icily. 

The littlest of the four babies opens its eyes. They’re a perfect mirror of Yoshi’s own, warm brown and human. It’s hard to guess how old they are, but they’re definitely old enough to smile, and the little one proves it. 

It makes a quiet noise, something between a babble and a coo, and lifts one pudgy hand up toward Yoshi’s face. 

The call is on speaker and the noise must carry. Hala cuts herself off mid-word, surprised; then she exhales slowly, as if in understanding. Whatever it is she understands Yoshi must have missed entirely, because his whole brain is preoccupied by giving this tiny reaching creature whatever it wants. Lifting his arm and dipping his head, until the spotted turtle can paw around at his cheek and nose with its miraculous little fingers, clumsy and curious and delighted. 

Like it has some kind of good opinion of Yoshi already. Like somehow it’s happy to see him. 

It’s only been about three years since Yoshi was spirited away. That means Yoshi is not quite thirty years old. He feels ancient, and at the same time absurdly young. 

He never, ever imagined himself with children. It’s something he and Big Mama talked about as their relationship progressed. He couldn’t imagine bringing a child into the world, potentially saddling them with the Hamato mantle and all the pain and loss that came with it. He couldn’t imagine leaving them the way his mother disappeared from his life. If you’d asked him even a day ago whether or not he thought he could open his heart up like that again Yoshi is pretty sure his answer would have been a resounding no. 

But now there are these four fragile creatures, no longer animal, not fully human, who don’t have anywhere else to belong in the whole world. Four babies, so small that Yoshi’s heart leaps with panic at the idea of letting them go, with green-toned skin and three-fingered hands and eyes the same shape and color of his own. 

Their tiny faces ease Yoshi out of his shock—bring him sinking back into his body, and all its pain and hunger and exhaustion, all its proof of life. 

Yoshi forgets about the ongoing call in his opposite hand until the spotted turtle starts to squirm and almost dislodges its siblings and Yoshi moves to support them and finds a phone in the way. 

Hala is silent on the other end of the line. He remembers, belatedly, that he never answered her question. 

So he says, “Yes, I do.” 

[repeating-sounds]

Plastic Trees

Arthur wasn't entirely sure where he was. He spent his morning as he usually does, reading the trades over a bowl of shredded wheat, watching the news, and looking at his wife, Edna, who was already focused on the dishes in the sink. Today was a big day. This week’s market was incredibly volatile, and there were some incredibly important stocks to consider.  As he went for his fourth sip of coffee, he blinked and felt a strange temperature shift, followed by a completely different setting.

No more Edna, no more shredded wheat, no more stock options. Just a small, dingy office with brochure racks and a toothy-grinned man with a wide tie and a short torso.

It was at this moment that Arthur realized he was dead. There wasn't any major shift in his perspective or knowledge, no changing winds or rising tides; it was almost as if in a dream, where you suddenly are made aware of a concept, an idea, and it feels as real as the tree in front of you. Except then you wake up, and none of it was real, least of all the tree with its waxy leaves and styrofoam bark. If anything, the idea is the only thing that feels real at all.

Except this was no dream. There would be no waking up, no plastic realization of the falsities your mind force-fed you in your fit of sleep. He was stone-cold dead, much to the horror of Edna, who turned around to find her husband of twenty-two years face down in a bowl of milk and grains.

Arthur looked at the walls around him, covered with posters and pictures of people. Happy people. Some stood in front of statues, others near large volcanoes or fluffy clouds. He looked at a brochure nearest to him. It read: Welcome to Hell: We Promise It's As Good As You Make It!

A look of horror spread across the recently deceased’s face. Behind him, a voice breathed out a question.  

"Hello Sir, have you had a chance to read our selections?"

Arthur took a second, staring at a poster of a small cat clawing to a tree branch, coaxing the viewer to " hang in there".

"I...I'm in Hell?"

The man with the coffee-stained teeth smiled, leading Arthur towards a desk and a laminated book.

"Well, no. Or yes. It depends. We have lots of options. Would you come have a seat?"

Hot, salty terror washed over Arthur. The high, obsidian spires of an unknown hellscape curled around him like tendrils of a great fire. The crackling screams of millions of tortured souls closed in like a headache until he couldn’t take it anymore. A large, hoofed creature, with wings like a bat and a snout like--

Arthur let out a long breath, a cold sweat on his forehead. The toothy-grinned man held his familiar posture.

“Not to your liking?” He said.

“Not so much,” Arthur gulped.

The man thought for a moment before flipping the page.

“Hmm. Perhaps this one!”

A large, spiraling vortex of color and light washed over Arthur, sending him into a state of spiritual bliss. Orgasmic images of the future, the past, the very foundations of time and space were known to him in this moment. The questions of the universe, answered.

And on and on went Arthur and the Salesman, through worlds of torment and turmoil, sacrifice and satisfaction, through all the fetishes and fantasies of the people of our world, in search of the perfect period on the note of life.

Arthur realized quickly the truths of the afterworlds. This quilt of options was crafted by the needs and wants of his fellow man, all of their dreams in life, come to reality as a result of their last thoughts. In this moment Arthur felt powerful, but in the next he felt a question. It nagged at him in the back of his mind, slowly at first, and then more as he thought. More as he saw. Worlds of horror and hopelessness, of anger and spite. He had one question.

“Excuse me, but I’m a bit confused.”

“What’s that?” Asked the salesman,

“These options all exist because someone lives in them, yes? These places came about as a result of people’s afterlives?”

“Well, yes, you could say that.”

“Then why did they pick them? Why would you want to live in Hell, when Heaven exists alongside it?”

The salesman smiled.

“A fair question. Our aim is to give release in death. Give people what they want. What they’re expecting. A fair amount of people over the course of history have believed wholeheartedly in dark and depressing fantasies. If in your mind, the afterlife should consist of good, evil, and the weight of your heart at the deciding scale, then we give that to you.”

“But they would never pick the worse option, would they?”

“They don’t want the options in the first place. They want reassurance.”

Arthur thought about the implications of this.

“Why do I get the option, then? I consider myself to be...well at least relatively Catholic”

At this, the salesman stood, excited.

“There it is, Arthur! A good question. Your religion, see, is Catholicism, though it’s not your faith. You don’t believe in it, not truly.”

“Now, that’s not quite fair.” Arthur faltered for more of a rebuttal than that.

“And yet, you have strong beliefs. The free market. Consumerism.” A devilish grin swept over his  face. “You believe in choice. Beat the system, as they’d say.”

For a moment, Arthur’s life flashed before his eyes. His decisions, politics, beliefs. Is this really the best way to describe his life? Apparently it was. And further, what would he pick? Where would we spend his time?

Before he had a chance to answer this question the Salesman turned another page in his book.

“Arthur, I sense your apprehension, and I for one think you deserve the answers you seek. Would you mind visiting one last location?”

“Sure,” Arthur muttered, lost in thought.

Large, oaken veins coursed mightily up the great bark of an overwhelming tree. Complex branches tangled between themselves, sporting leaves of deep and ancient green. Thick roots pulsated like tendrils, wrapping themselves deep into the soil on which Arthur and the Salesman stood.  A vast catalogue of images and feelings wrapped around his brain. They came from the tree; from its leaves and its roots.  Arthur couldn’t quite find words to describe the wonder encapsulating his mind and body.

"This is the single greatest testament to the accomplishments of the Homo Sapien. This is what you pride yourself so heavily on."

"What is it?"

"It has many names, many faces, but you would understand it best as human consciousness.”

The images were overwhelming, but started to quantify themselves as things Arthur could grasp.

At first, they were simple. He felt a hot burning, one that made him feel dizzy and warm and fulfilled. It quickly dissipated, leaving him with a dull, grey ache. His head went fuzzy. His knees buckled.

These concepts took greater form, first as colors. He was an infant, with the soft, pink, wonder of how the warmth of other humans feel. He saw his father. He smelled like aftershave and work. His mother looked an angel, with smiling brown eyes. He swam in them.

He watched himself age, his complexion change. His first love, then his first wife, then his daughter. He wept and screamed. He grew weak.

The images changed, less personal now. Visions of death and what lay beyond it entombed him. He saw an infinite spread of hellscapes and ethereal nothingness. He saw all the book had to show him and more.

“These places are like in the book.”

“The very same. These are your options,” The Salesman looked at peace, eyes closed.

“I thought the images of afterlife were from the minds of other people, not my own.”

“Truly, Arthur, is there any difference? The images of others, their beliefs and knowledge is in your mind, your human understanding. As a hatchling turtle or young goat knows the instincts passed down from their ancestors, you too know yours. The instincts of the human race are social, they’re abstract. The human understanding of life is not isolated to your own mind.”

“I thought the options in the book were real places, and now you say they come from inside my head. I don’t understand. Is this real?”

The salesman chuckled.

“Does it matter? If it helps, then no. These places are inside the mind,  not cosmically tangible. They are explanations for the mind, so the soul can rest.”

“An explanation of what?”

“Of what it means to die. The human mind knows one thing; existence. You have lived for an eternity, Arthur. 62 years isn’t long for a rock or a planet, but to you, it’s forever. The mind won’t be so easily tricked into shutting itself off. It’s as difficult as teaching a bird not to fly.”

“So all this, this is just an...an escape? Like a dream?”

“Exactly like a dream. You are dying, Arthur, and soon you’ll have nothing left. Your brain has been existing for a very long time, and it needs to rest.”

Arthur could tell that his time here was nearing. He needed to make his decision.

“What are you?” Arthur asked, looking for the first time into the Salesman’s eyes. They were dark, and loving. Full of understanding.

“I am tired. And I must rest. Do you have your answer?”

Arthur did.

Arthur sat at his kitchen table. He spent his morning as he normally does, reading the trades over a bowl of shredded wheat, watching the news, and looking at his wife, Edna, who was working hard scrubbing last night’s lasagna dish. He stood, and walked over to her. He wrapped his hands around her back, kissing her with passion. He was happy.

[tmnthpdisneyjurassicpark-blog]

Run....Part 2

Note: Swearing, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mutated!Reader x turtles

You woke up to a searing pain in your back. Gasping out, you mouthed a silent scream. The pain was almost unbearable.

You felt like your head was underwater, all sounds came out muffled to your sensitive ears and there was a lot of pressure in your head.

Everything hurt, you felt like you were run over by a boulder, or crushed against a wave....

A wave....

The mutagen!

You sat up so quickly, your head began to spin. Trying to calm your breathing, you were fighting a rising wave of nausea that threatened to overtake you.

You let out a low groan.

You were aware of the shift in light and a voice, familiar but far away.

It wasn't until you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder that your senses snapped into focus.

Your hearing became extra clear and sensitive and you could hear EVERYTHING.

The buzzing of the lights overhead, the rising voices calling your name over and over, the springs of the mattresses under you, and the heartbeat that kept getting louder and louder and louder-

"Y/N! Look at me!"

Slowly, cautiously, you raised your head and met four pairs of eyes.

"Guys?" You called out weakly, hands still covering your ears. You hadn't realized you had caved into yourself, in a fetal position.

"Hey Y/N." Mikey cooed softly, placing his hands over yours and lowering them as Don shut off the light, reacting to your sensitivity.

In the dark, you felt yourself relax and your eyes adjust.

It was.....odd. When you looked about, everything seemed almost as bright as day, but the colors came out more neon against the stark backgound.

Looking around, you begin to recognize beakers, black screens of computer monitors, scrap metal and tools....

"Am...am I in the lab?" You whispered almost to yourself.

"Yes, you're safe Y/N." Leo's calm voice soothed, but you could hear the sharpness in his words.

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

He was furious, they probably all were. It was your fault that they were in that battle, and if they got hurt-

"Hey, Y/N. Look at meh." Raph's deep voice made you snap back to the moment. Shoving Mikey off the bed, Raph took his spot and wiped away at the tears that fell down your cheeks. "Da hell were ya thinkin' shorty?"

His glistening golden irises seemed to bore into your very being.

You looked away, you were afraid of seeing the anger, the pain you caused them.

"Y/N?"

"How am I alive?" You choked out against your sobs.

"We...we found ya in the sewer a couple of hours after....after da fight. Bloody, battered, with broken bones and....and ya weren't breathin'. Don rushed ya to da lab and began doin all sorts of tests. We didn't think you were gonna make it." Raph's voice was low as he revealed what has happened since the explosion.

Shaking your head you couldn't understand how Donnie managed to save you. Shifting to the side, you placed your feet on the floor and attempted to push yourself up.

All of the turtles reacted.

"Y/N! What are you-" Leo walked forward, hands outstretched.

"It's dangerous for you to be up so-" Donnie shot up like a rocket, practically running to you.

"Easy there! You're still in rough-" Mikey practically shrieked.

"For the lovagod shorty, sit down!" Raph barked, grabbing onto your arm.

You shook Raph off and took a step, then another as you fell into Don's arms.

"Thank you Donnie." You said, squeezing him tight in hug. "Thank you for saving me."

The genius froze under your touch for a moment, before returning the gesture.

"I'd do anything for you Y/N. You mean a lot to me." Donnie responded, squeezing you but he was careful not to hurt you. "But..."

You pulled back enough to look at his face, he seemed to be struggling to tell you something.

"But what Donnie?" You asked, confused and slightly concerned.

Don seemed to shake on the spot, terrified of telling you something.

"Don, she needs to know." Leo's voice called out, giving Don the silent support he needed.

"I can't Leo, how am I supposed to tell her about this?" He whirled, glaring at the leader in blue with you still wrapped in his arms.

Leo sighed and shook his head. He seemed to steel himself before he turned to you.

"Look Y/N, you see- we tried to reverse it but there was no way-"

"Reverse what?" You responded, trying to keep your voice steady.

"You're totally a lizard now dudette!" Mikey responded cheerfully.

Eyes wide, mouth agape, you gaze around at the four turtles.

Don, using his left hand, let go of you to smack Mikey in the head.

"Hey!" Mikey protested.

"Nice going numbskull!" Don snapped. You pushed yourself away from Don, stumbling back.

"Easy dere," Raph reached out to you, but you pulled away and ran to the lab door.

"Y/N!" Leo called after you, chasing you right on your heals.

You pushed past them, running past a surprised Splinter who appeared to have just woken.

"Miss Y/N! You are awake!" Splinter responded in surprise as you pushed past him.

"Y/N! Don't-" Leo reached for you once more, hand outstreached.

You tumbled out of reach and burst through the bathroom door.

There you saw yourself, your new self for the first time.

Large, yellow reptialian eyes replaced your (e/c) ones, your five fingered hands now reduced to three. Your (s/c) skin, once soft was replaced with black scales with (y/f/c) designs that seemed to swirl and meet in your snout and chest.

Your (h/c) hair was gone, you went from being (y/h) to six foot eleven.

Everything human about you was gone. All that was left was this shell of the person you once was.

And there was nothing you could do to change it.

You felt your heart shatter.

The walls seemed to cave in around you. It was getting harder to breathe as the air seemed to thicken around you.

The bright lights, the sounds became overwhelming once more and you felt your frail and broken body giving out.

On shaking legs you backed away from the mirror in horror. Bumping straight into Leo.

"Hey, hey take it easy-" He tried to calm you, sensing your panic.

"Leo, what am I?" You screeched as he wrapped you in his arms, soothing your hair and holding you tight.

"It's okay Y/N, everything is going to be-"

"IT WON'T BE ALRIGHT!"

You shoved him away, as hard as you could.

Surprised with your own strength, Leo tumbled back as Raph dashed to catch him. Leo flew into Raph and the pair tumbled to the floor in a heap of limbs.

You turned on your heal and burst towards the exit.

"Don't let her leave!" Leo gasped out from under Raph.

Don and Mikey both bolted to stop you from getting out of the lair.

"Y/N! Wait! It's not safe topside!" Mikey yelled as he attempted to block you with his chuck.

You dodged the move and took off, not looking back.

You heard the boys calling out to you but you couldn't care.

You couldn't see, couldn't breathe, everything hurt and all you knew was you had to run.

You felt something push against you with full force and you felt yourself falling. Before your body could hit the ground, your capture turned in on himself and took the blunt of the hit.

Pushing yourself off his chest you gazed into his eyes.....

💙 "Y/N, just hear me out. This doesn't define you, just because you are a mutant now doesn't mean your arent the same girl you were a few days ago. You mean everything to me and I swear to you, on my honor, I will do everything I can to protect you."

❤ "Damn shorty, ya fast now aren't ya? Now listen ta me. Bein' a mutant sucks, but ya know what's worse? Facin' that damn world alone. I promise ya shorty, as long as I'm around you will never have ta face it alone. I'm here for you."

💜 "Y/N! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I cant fix this and I'm sorry you have to go through this. It's not fair this happened to you, it was beyond improbably for me to even comprehend such an occurance. I won't make that same mistake again. I will do everything I can to try to give you as normal a life as possible- I promise. Just please, don't go."

🧡 "Dudette! Please calm down! I know it's scary but you're not alone in this! My brothers are here for you, our friends and....and me. I will never leave you behind, you mean so damn much to me. Please just have a little faith."