#yoooo Leo on a sugar high feeds the adhd demon inside me that has no impulse control

[mad4turtles]

I have a request it’s a silly one I’ve been meaning to draw myself but I’d like to see your take on it. Can I see your version of a sugared up rotmnt Leo and the chaos that ensues

Oh, this. THIS is beautiful XD

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Hamato Raphael has few regrets in his life. That's not saying much considering he's lived all of seventeen years, but he can count on his fingers the number of true regrets he has. One of them being—what else—what transpired nearly a year prior with the Krang and the damned portal.

(He's not sure he'll ever truly forgive himself for that, for all his family assure him it wasn't him, it was them. But he does his best to put it behind him nowadays. They're healing.)

His most recent regret, however, is one he could have easily prevented had he been listening to what Casey and Leo were chatting about in the T.V. room. 

Had he not been engrossed in his phone, doom-scrolling through memes on Twitter and Tumblr, he might've heard the future boys' innocent question: “Hey, Leo, what's a... a 'sugar rush'?”

Had he not been snickering at another Will Smith slap meme, he might've noticed Leo looking up to send Casey The Grin. The Grin that spells doom for every Hamato (or anyone associated with or in the general vicinity of the Hamato's). 

If Raphael had just seen The Grin, he'd have one less regret. 

~0o0~

Later, he gets a text from Donnie.

DonTron: Raphael. Did you leave the sugar snacks in plain sight and within reach in the cupboard?

Biggest Bro: … y?

DonTron: Doth thou not hear the caterwauling of the sugar-high devils currently destroying our less-than-humble abode?????

DonTron: Because I can. I have dubstep in my headphones. I can still hear the screams, papa.

Oh god.

Raph all but flies out of his room, skidding to a halt in the kitchen with wide eyes.

“YOOOO TELL YA WHAT I WANT, WHAT I REALLY REALLY WANT—!”

Leo is standing on the dining table, basketball shorts on his head and Splinter's fur brush in his hand like a microphone, his face coated in colour splatters of milk, chocolate and sugar that have Raph's nose tingling. 

“SO TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT, WHAT YOU REALLY REALLY WANT!”

Casey is shirtless, Fanta and Pepsi Max bottles strapped to his belt like guns in holsters, empty boxes of Lucky Charms and Fruit Loops taped to his shoulders like armour, the remnants of the food sticking to his face and chest, stomping his bare feet to the tone-deaf beat.

“I'LL TELL YA WHAT I WANT, WHAT REALLY REALLY WANT—!”

Mikey's head is wrapped with tinfoil, Captain Crunch's face cut out like a mask which the box shell has taped to his face, vibrant splatters of paint in every colour of the rainbow staining his body, the countertops and the floor as whips his dripping brushes wildly about like a drunk at a rave party. That explains why Casey has war paint, Raph supposes. 

“I WANNA REALLY REALLY REALLY WANNA ZIG-A-ZIG, AAAAHHHH—!”

Raph watches, frozen, as his little brothers screech like banshees, banging pots and pans like drums and dousing themselves with paint and enough sugary foods to make Raph's teeth ache second-hand. He watches as Leo attempts a backflip, slips on a gummy worm dipped in chocolate sauce and spins twice mid-air on the way to the floor, only to shake it off with his whole body and go right back to screaming to the Spice Girls. Mikey does the Toby Maguire dance. Casey twerks.

Raph watches. Donnie appears from thin air, phone already in hand and filming. When Raph cuts him a glance, he shrugs. “Blackmail,” he says at length.

Raph blinks very slowly. “You don't think that, I dunno... maybe we should intervene?”

“SENSEI! I CAN TASTE THE COLOURS OF THE RAINBOW!”

“YES, MY SON! UNLEASH YOUR TRUE GAY POWER!”

Donnie blinks back. “You ask far too much of me, brother dearest.” He turns back to the mayhem. 

Raph stares at him a moment longer. He turns back just as Leo clambers onto the table again and pops open a bag of skittles, to the delight of Mikey and Casey. “NOW EVERYONE'S MY BOYFRIEND!”

Raph feels like doing a lot of things. Screaming, crying, laughing, all three at once. Smashing something almost tops the list, but he settles for the next best, and least destructive, thing. 

“I'll get the hose,” he sighs and stomps away. Donnie hums and continues filming. 

Raph returns just as Mikey finishes a butchered rendition of Memory from Cats, and he feels nothing when he aims and fires streams of freezing water at the three shrieking stooges. He doesn't stop until they're out of the kitchen, screaming curses and sopping wet. Then he looks at Donnie. “Is your phone waterproof?”

Donnie cocks a drawn brow. “It's everything proof. Why?”

“Just checking,” Raph says and sprays Donnie in the face.

~0o0~

What goes up must come down, and when the boys finally crash, it's a pitiful sight.

Raph is keenly aware that their suffering is deserved. But he's just as at fault for not nipping Leo's hairless-brained scheme in the bud or for forgetting to properly hide the sugary goods April had brought from their last hangout from Leo and Mikey's grubby little hands. The guilt from that (minor though it is) and years of Big Brother instincts compel Raph to hold Casey's hair back as he hurls in the toilet, help Leo scrub his shell in the hard-to-reach areas, and wrangle Mikey's limbs into his pyjamas. Then he's lugging all three into the living room, where the inflatable mattress and blankets have already been set up.

Once they're all tucked in, he stands up with a huff and crosses his arms. “So,” he begins sternly—bleeding heart or no, he's still tired and mildly pissed. “What have we learned?”

“Sugar is Satan,” Casey whimpers in his blanket cocoon. Leo huffs a tired snicker. Raph bites back his own.

“A bit extreme, but okay. What else?”

“Always remember the wise words from Jeff Goldblum,” Mikey croaks.

“Which are?”

“We could, but we never stopped to think if we should,” Leo groans. “And also this whole situation is one big pile of shit.”

Raph nods. “Exactly, but language. And what are we not gonna do from now on?”

“Indulge in sugary sin?” Casey moans.

This time Raph snickers. “What's with the Bible stuff? You prayin' for a quick recovery?”

Casey sends Raph a withering glare. “If God was real, he'd have stopped us.”

“Nah, man,” Mikey shakes his head and shuts his eyes, cuddling deeper into the blanket and Leo's side as he shivers. “Why d'you think he stays in heaven? He's hiding from Leo.”

Leo's face cracks a stupid grin. “That's me, slayer of pink alien bitches and feared by God himself. Bow before me, mortals.”

Casey swats at him weakly. “I'd sooner bow before the toilet again. I'm never listening to you again, you asshole.”

“You asked me, though.”

“Then I'm an idiot. Which says a lot about the guy who raised me.”

“Go for the throat, why don't you.”

Raph rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright, that's enough.” He bends down to tuck the blanket snugly around them again. “Get some sleep. I'll be in the kitchen, cleaning up your mess, so holler if you need me. If you gotta puke, bucket's next to the couch.”

Leo's hand peeks out from the blanket burrito and holds Raph's finger. The snapper looks at Leo's mask-less face as it gives way to something devoid of all pretence. “... 'm sorry, Raphie.”

And just like that, all irritation leaves him in a sigh shaped like a smile. He squeezes Leo's hand. “You're good, little brother. Just don't do it again, aight? I can only take so much of you, dum-dum. Don't need you converting Mikey and Jr, too.” Freeing his hand, he raps his knuckles against Leo's forehead. The slider giggles tiredly and swats back playfully, missing by a mile as Raph stands. “G'night, fellas. Hope your dreams at as wild as Casey's twerking.”

Raph has a few regrets in his short life. But picking up after his idiot brothers in the wake of their childish antics as they howl with hysterical laughter in the other room isn't one of them. 

All part of being a big brother.

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This was an absolute BLAST to write. Feel free to send more requests :)

Reblogs are very appreciated <3