adebauchedsloth

[adebauchedsloth]

I sort of (very much) want to draw that fairy tale book where the princess marries the ‘turtle creature’.

The Turtle's Song

Hello everyone, I'm sorry I haven't been as active on here lately, but I finally have something to post.

I'm working off of this prompt from the lovely @thelaundrybitch

The turtles have, and continually practice a "Turtle Song." Their mate(s) or potential mate(s) is the only human that can hear/ reacts to said song. That's how they know the person is "The One."

This is my take on that prompt with Mikey of course and how his song leads him to the one he's meant to be with. I put a bit of a fairytale twist on it too. This one-shot is from the perspective of a female reader.

TW: Mention of mistreatment toward the reader and one instance of physical abuse towards the reader.

Special thanks to @adebauchedsloth for giving it a once-over!

Please continue reading under the cut and let me know if you enjoy reading it. Thank you!

For most of his life, Mikey had been humming a song, a tune unique only to him and the person he was meant to be with. That perfect person he could only dream about having. It was a legend, an ancient tale he’d beg his father to regale him with at bedtime. The Turtle’s Song. He didn’t know whether it was real or not, but he’d wanted so badly to believe it was. The human princess falls in love with a turtle creature because, out of every suitor, none could identify her song except for him.

Michelangelo had always been a romantic at heart, and for a long time, he believed that the perfect person was waiting for him somewhere. He waited, hopeful she’d come along, but as the years went by and he got older, the idea of true love started to fade, and a harsh reality threatened to take hold. Maybe it was just a childish fantasy—something only found in fairy tales. No, he refused to lose hope! He couldn’t allow himself to fall into that dark pit of despair; he refused to.

Mikey was thirty years young, according to him anyway. For the most part, his life was good. He and his brothers had continued with their sheltered lives, but their presence as the protectors of New York was no longer a big secret. Mikey was a popular video game streamer and had a sizable online following. He didn’t bother hiding his face because what was the point? There were no longer any dangerous threats to worry about. He and his brothers had saved the city multiple times and taken jobs from Chief Vincent on a regular basis. Humans, for the most part, had accepted him and his brothers. The only thing left to do was to leave the sewers and live among them as proper citizens of New York.

Mikey knew his mate was out there. He could feel it! One day, she'd hear his song and come shining into his life like a beacon of hope. He tried to imagine how she would look. Beautiful, of course, no matter what she looked like, with eyes that shone with kindness and hair like silk. Somehow, he knew she was a woman—sweet and lovely, with soft curves and rosy cheeks. He probably spent an unhealthy amount of time thinking about this mystery girl, but who could blame him?! His brothers had already all found their mates, and he wanted it to be his turn.

One day, when hope was almost lost, he heard it. The song. He didn't realize it then, but his mate was stuck, trapped in a loveless marriage to another man.

-----

You didn't think things could get much worse. Your witch of a mother-in-law, yet again, had taken time out of her day to remind you what a useless and incompetent wife you were, and your husband had been acting as cold as ever. You'd cry if you hadn't grown numb to this type of treatment long ago. If you weren't financially dependent on him and in need of a place to live, you'd have left a long time ago.

It was clear you were both miserable, yet every time you brought up the topic of divorce, he refused and warned that you would be homeless if you left him. So, you stayed, enduring the cruel treatment for years like some housebound Cinderella character, since it was your responsibility to keep the house in order. 

You had been married for several years, and though you tried, it seemed you were unable to have children with him. Labelled barren and useless by your mother-in-law and husband, you’d all but slipped into depression, feeling broken and deserving of the contempt directed toward you.

There were two things that brought you comfort in your darkest moments. First, there was tending to the rooftop garden at the top of your apartment building, and second, a soft, familiar melody that you hummed as you went to sleep. You’d been humming it since before you could talk. On those nights, you had a recurring dream. It was always the same. You could never make out his face, but he was familiar, kind, and more than willing to take you away from all of this. You felt the outpouring of love and affection, so pure and beautiful it made you want to weep.

You couldn't shake the feeling that this was who you were meant to be with, and lamented the fact that he wasn't real. Such things didn't exist in real life, after all. No Prince Charming was coming to save you, and the sooner you accepted that, the sooner you would save yourself from any further heartbreak.

Still, you craved those dreams. Your only escape from reality was a pair of baby-blue eyes and the words, 'You are my mate.'

It seemed hopeless, as if things would never get any better, so you had to suck it up and keep it together as best as you could. Still, the dreams of your saviour kept that flicker of hope alive. You started hiding money from your husband, squirrelling it away in a metal tin to buy your freedom. You hummed the song while you worked, the melody bringing you comfort and helping you stay positive. You were careful not to let it show around your husband or his mother, in case they suspected anything.

One day, you were leaving, and nothing was going to stop you.

-----

On particularly lonely nights, Mikey often took to the rooftops for some peace, taking time for himself to think and reflect. It was one of those days when everything felt like too much. It seemed as though his brothers were being extra affectionate with their mates. Their actions, though not deliberate, only served to stir up unpleasant feelings of jealousy within him. He had to get out of there.

Moving swiftly into the night, Mikey decided to explore a little. For once, he allowed his instincts to guide him, jumping across rooftops and taking in the sights and sounds of the city as he went. He couldn’t explain it, but it felt like there was somewhere he needed to be right now.

His actions brought him to a charming little rooftop garden. Clearly, someone had invested time and effort into maintaining it, as the plants and flowers appeared lush and healthy.

His heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he saw her, and his song stirred deep within his soul. The moment was cathartic, and he instantly knew she was the one. Staying hidden in the shadows, he watched her tend the garden, humming to herself as she deftly snipped dead flowerheads and watered the plants that needed it.

Feeling his heart swell even more, Mikey’s eyes filled with tears as he was completely overwhelmed by emotion. She was humming the song, his song, like a siren in the night. After all this time, he’d finally found her, and she was just as beautiful as he’d always imagined.

Everything inside him was screaming to make his presence known, yet he remained frozen in hiding. How was he supposed to approach her without scaring her? He’d imagined this moment a hundred thousand times in his head, but nothing compared to actually experiencing it. 

He was almost ready to throw caution to the wind when he saw something that made his heart sink. She had moved close enough that he could see a wedding band on her left hand. His face crumpled with sadness when he realized she was taken. Someone had found her before he did, and from her demeanour, he could only assume she was happy.

He left quickly, crushed with the weight of his discovery. She wasn’t his, she’d never be his, and he would never experience the kind of relationship his brothers shared. Fated to be alone forever. He ran, tears streaming down his face until he could no longer see where he was going. He sobbed, clutching his chest with each heaving breath.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but she was meant for him, wasn’t she? He’d expected her to be wary at first, but ultimately come to her own realization that this was right. That they were meant to be together.

Another terrible thought crossed his mind. What if she had children? There was no way. Even if he had announced his presence, he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to tear the family apart. As much as it hurt, he’d just have to accept that this was never going to turn out the way he thought it would. 

He hated the idea of heading home, feeling like a failure and a loser, the only one of his brothers who would remain alone forever. The last shred of hope had been torn away from him the moment he realized he’d never have her.

For the next few days, he kept to himself, staying in his room and only coming out to eat or use the washroom. All attempts to speak with him were met with one-word answers or silence. Everyone was becoming quite concerned, but none more than their father, who was determined to get to the bottom of it. 

On one of Mikey’s trips to the kitchen and back, the old rat thumped his walking stick on the floor to catch his youngest son’s attention.

“You will join me for a cup of tea.” It was a simple request, yet one his son could not easily refuse. He could see his resolve was hanging by a thread and longed to ease his troubles, whatever they may be.

Hesitantly, Mikey followed, his footsteps heavy, as if even his small trip to his father’s room took more effort than necessary. He watched as his father lowered himself neatly onto his cushion and gestured for him to do the same.

“Kneel before me, my son.” Mikey did as he was told, still reluctant to speak as Splinter gently placed a small cup of tea into his hands. “Tell me what is troubling you. What has happened?”

Mikey knew that if he were to explain everything, he would break down completely. He sipped his tea and resolved to keep it together, instead directing his anger and frustration at the one person who could and would handle it.

“You lied.”

“To what are you referring to?” Was his father’s calm reply.

“You told us…” His voice was shaking a little. “That we would find our…” His hand clenched around the cup as he swallowed thickly. “The one who could hear our song…”

“Ah, your song? I assure you, I did not bend the truth in any way.” He sipped, ready for his son’s next outburst of emotion.

“YES, YOU DID!” Mikey slammed the cup down, causing the small wooden table to shake slightly from the force. “It’s never gonna happen for me! There must’ve been some mistake, some kind of fucking mixup because she’s…!”

Still remaining calm as ever, Splinter began to piece things together. Everything was about to be explained. “You have found her, haven’t you?”

Mikey’s lip trembled as he slowly nodded, furiously wiping at his eyes. “I was stupid to think it could happen for me…” His father patiently waited for him to explain, placing his aged hand upon his.

Speaking barely above a whisper, Mikey looked down at his knees. “She’s… she’s married… I saw the ring…”

Though his heart went out to his son, Splinter knew there had to be more to this. “Oh, my son, I can imagine the pain you must have felt, but I must remind you, fate makes no mistake. You must dig deeper if she is truly the one.”

I can’t...” he mumbled. “I’m not a homewrecker…” There was no holding back the tears that came streaming down his cheeks. His heart was broken, caught in a vice-like grip of despair. He angrily wiped at them until his father gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Michelangelo, do not be so quick to mourn. You assume it to be a happy marriage, yet she, and she alone, is the only one who can hear your song. There are far too many unanswered questions that must be addressed. You must go back.” His words were firm with an air of finality.

His crying had stopped, his father’s words making him reflect on a few things. He was right; Mikey hadn’t stayed long enough to see the full picture. Could her marriage be a happy one? Maybe it wasn’t. In fact, it was entirely possible she married the wrong person.

Sucking in a breath, Mikey suddenly feared that maybe her husband didn’t treat her well. Maybe she was in trouble. “Dad, I..!”

“Go to her.” He sipped his tea calmly. “I sense that you are needed.”

Mikey was up and out of that room in a flash. His heart was pounding as he raced through the tunnels to the surface. Hold on, I’m coming!

This was it. You were finally getting out of there. Having gathered enough money, you packed a bag and waited for him to fall asleep before retrieving your stash. You’d placed it in a small metal box that you buried in the soil of the rooftop garden.

When you went to retrieve it, you were horrified to find that it was missing, no longer where you had carefully hidden it just days earlier. After a few frantic moments of searching, you heard mocking laughter behind you and froze.

“Looking for this?” It was your mother-in-law carefully holding the object in mind, a smug look on her face.

You felt your stomach drop as you stammered. “Th-that’s… how did you—?“ This was not good. You were screwed, and things were about to get even worse.

“I knew you were worthless, I didn’t know you were a filthy little thief, girl.” she spat. “Good luck explaining this to the police.” She was already pulling out her phone, and you were panicking.

“W-wait! I was just trying to-“

Slap!

It was your husband, having appeared behind his mother just as you were trying to prevent her from calling 911. “You steal from me? I gave you a home, food to eat, and this is how you repay me, you ungrateful bitch?!”

“I want a divorce!” You sobbed, holding your cheek. “Just let me leave!”

Mikey heard the slap and felt it reverberate through his very soul. Someone was hurting her, his mate, and in that moment, he saw red. Fuck staying hidden; she was in trouble, and he had to act now. 

Before you even had a chance to shed a tear, you heard his mother emit a blood-curdling scream and felt something rush past you with a swiftness that did not seem possible. Something resonated within you as your husband was knocked to the ground with a yelp of pain while clutching his nose. It was the song you’d been humming for years; you could feel it deep within your soul. Could it be...?

Your husband's mother was still screaming about a monster and yelling into the phone that she needed officers there now before it killed her son!

You felt absolutely no fear as you focused your gaze on the large creature? Turtle? Turtleman? Then he turned, worry and fear etched on his face, as he seemed to prepare himself for you to pull out your phone and call the police on him as well.

His eyes… bluer than the sky on a perfect summer’s day met yours, and you gasped aloud. You knew those eyes, you knew him! He’d finally come for you, and when he'd determined that you weren’t going to run from him, he quickly offered his hand to you.

“Come with me, I’m gonna get you outta here.”

You didn’t think twice. Taking his offered hand, you were swept into his arms and carried off into the night, away from the two people who had caused you so much pain, mistreated you for years, and were still faintly screaming in the distance. 

This turtleman was covering a lot of ground very quickly, but you held on tight, armed with the knowledge that you were finally safe.

Once both of you were far enough away, he gently set you on your feet and took a few steps back, feeling the need to give you some space while speaking very quickly.

“…Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to—the police were on their way, and he was hurting you and I just-“

You silenced him, holding your hand up. Now was not the time for explanations and regrets. You needed answers.

Clearing your throat, you began to hum, starting low and hesitant before increasing in volume and pitch to see how he would react.

Mikey stood rooted in place for a few seconds. Happy tears began streaming down his cheeks as he gently took your hands, his own low-pitched voice blending with yours until you both were humming and crying, overwhelmed with happiness and the joy of finally finding each other after all this time. 

“It really is you…” you smiled, managing to choke out the words.

Mikey squeezed your hands. He felt a mix of relief and inner peace as he managed to rein himself in emotionally. He needed to know why you seemed to know him already. “H-how come you weren’t scared of me?”

You did the same, taking a few deep breaths before speaking. “I dreamt about you, I knew your eyes and your voice, you told me you were going to rescue me and take me away from… him." You waited a moment before continuing, feeling the need to explain everything.

Now, Mikey was getting the full picture. Yes, you were married, but it wasn’t the happy union he thought. There were no children involved either. He listened as you spoke about how you’d been saving money for years, planning your escape, and how you’d been caught that very night. He understood you needed to keep up appearances beforehand, which meant wearing your wedding ring and acting the part of the meek little housewife. 

Said ring was most definitely absent now. You’d left it on his side table with a note.

“I’ve already got the papers in order for the divorce, I just need to—” Your final words lingered on your tongue as he tugged you close against his chest, wrapping his warm, muscular arms around you. The way he held you made you feel as if he was afraid you’d disappear on him—careful, gentle, yet reassuring.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered. “I should’ve found you sooner, I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that.” He spoke with such regret that it made you want to cry all over again. “I promise, no one is ever going to hurt you again.”

In theory, this was crazy. You’d only just met him and didn’t even know his name! Yet, it all felt right. Being in his arms felt so natural. You’d never experienced a feeling this with anyone before, and somehow, you knew he was being honest with you.

“What’s your name?” The words were whispered against his chest as you tilted your head to look up at him.

“Michelangelo, but call me Mikey… heck, you can call me whatever you want. What’s yours?”

You giggled, telling him your name in return before asking another question. “What is this? How did I know your song without ever meeting you?”

Now it was Mikey’s turn to speak, and he started from the beginning, weaving together the classic origin story of him and his brothers along with the old legend. “My brothers have already found their mates… I was the last one.” He finished quietly.

Oh, your heart just about broke hearing that. He’d been searching for you all this time.

“Hey… better late than never, right?” This was your attempt to lighten the mood, and it worked. He smiled and squeezed you a little tighter before letting go slightly.

“Um, I know this is a lot to take in, but is it okay if I take you home with me? I won’t send you back to them, but if you’re not ready, we could find a hotel for you or something.”

It was very sweet of him to be so considerate of your feelings and you took a moment to think over your options. You knew your now ex-husband would have told the police that a ‘monster’ punched him in the face and that his wife tried to steal his money, but you hadn’t actually taken any of it. You doubted he had a case anyway and found the idea of separating yourself from your hero to be quite unpleasant indeed.

“I’ll go home with you.”

The way his face lit up, you’d think he had just been told he won a million dollars. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into. It was all so fantastical and unbelievable, yet he was right here, standing before you like the lead character in a romance novel.

You thought he might kiss you to complete that little fantasy, but he shyly backed away from it and offered to carry you again instead.

Things moved quickly after that. Mikey took you into his home, a cozy underground lair where he and his brothers took refuge with their father and partners.

He narrowly evaded getting an earful from his older brother in blue as he stepped aside, letting you come into view. You shyly waved with a small “hello.”

He was warmly congratulated by everyone, as each member of the clan came out to greet you. They were so pleased and relieved that he had found you. Although the situation was complicated, you were assured that everything would be taken care of. It felt like another one of your dreams, how they all welcomed you so effortlessly. You’ve never seen this level of kindness and acceptance before.

His purple-banded brother, who was something of a tech genius, immediately began sorting out the situation with the police. It turned out that Mikey and his brothers had a partnership with the NYPD and thus had protection against incidents like this. No charges would be laid against you either, and your divorce would be finalized the next day. 

The brothers offered to retrieve your belongings, which you gratefully accepted. Some of your heirlooms were irreplaceable, and you wanted your clothing returned.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Mikey sensed that you were tired and guided you to his room to rest. You both still felt a little shy, especially when you borrowed one of his T-shirts to sleep in. He politely turned around to give you privacy to change.

Though you were tired, when the two of you lay in his bed facing each other, you found yourself full of questions. What did he like to do? His favourite foods? You wanted to know everything about him, and he was more than happy to explain.

He accepted you fully and completely, even after you told him you feared you couldn't have children. Mikey was quick to reassure you that there was no rush and it was likely that your ex was the problem, not you.

In the early hours of the morning, you had slipped into his arms again, feeling sleepy and content, with a sense of peace you had never experienced before.

“Mikey…? I want…”

He knew and carefully placed his hand on the back of your head. A gentle press of your lips to his, and he was gone, lost in the feeling of you. The song within you both ringing true in your hearts.

If you didn’t believe in fate before, you certainly do now. It was truly like a dream come true, and if you were Cinderella in this situation, then Mikey was Prince Charming, the perfect fit for you, just like the glass slipper.

The End

Taglist:

@danceingfae @thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus

@the-cauldron-witch @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28

@definitely-canon @scholastic-dragon @truffle-reblogs @fyreball66 @yorshie

@jenuinelycurious

[adebauchedsloth]

Sleepy heads

[adebauchedsloth]

I needed a break from drawing mutated monsters. So you get some fluff.

[adebauchedsloth]

How little space separated the tips of your toes from his.

There's the line that first got me.

The Look of Love

Bayverse Leonardo x Fem!Reader

The lair was glowing, alive with the kind of warmth that only came from mismatched furniture, half-working lights, and the presence of people you didn’t have to pretend around.

April’s laugh cut through the air like a song you never wanted to end, mingling with the excited chaos of Mikey’s voice shouting something about “technically legal Uno moves.” Donnie was trying to explain the rules (for the fifth time), and Raph had just thrown down his cards and declared, “This game is dumb anyway.”

You smiled, curled up on the edge of the couch, watching the dysfunction unfold like a well-rehearsed play. And yet, despite the comfort of it all, your mind felt distant, adrift.

You rose quietly, unnoticed in the blur of playful accusations and flying playing cards, and made your way toward the kitchen.

It was dimly lit, washed in soft gold from the overhead lamp. The walls still carried faint traces of past meals and late-night laughter. You reached for a glass in the cabinet, already picturing the taste of cold water, when…

He was there.

Leonardo stood near the counter, his back to you, the mug in his hand still steaming.

You paused.

He turned at the sound of your step, slow and instinctive, eyes landing on yours. His expression shifted, subtle, but noticeable. Just enough to catch your breath off-guard.

“Oh,” he said, not startled but definitely surprised. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

You swallowed. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he turned back to his mug. “You didn’t. I just wasn’t paying attention.”

The air felt different now. Not tense, but… aware. Like even the quiet between you two was watching.

You moved to the sink and filled your glass. From the corner of your eye, you could feel him still there. Unmoving. Present.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence softly, “needed a break from Uno madness?”

He exhaled a breath that might’ve been a laugh. “You have no idea. Mikey and April teamed up, and now it’s not even Uno anymore. It’s some mutant version called ‘Undefeated Mikuno.’”

You snorted into your glass. “I don’t know if I’m impressed or horrified.”

“Both’s a safe bet.”

You turned, leaning back against the counter across from him. He mirrored the posture, arms folded casually over his broad chest. His hoodie was slightly too small for him now, tight across his shoulders. You’d seen him train, fight, lead, always with control. But here, in the warm quiet, he seemed… softer. A little more human.

Your eyes met.

It wasn’t intentional.

Or maybe it was. Just a second too long.

Something flickered there, between the space of a breath and a blink. It didn’t speak, didn’t demand. It just existed, like a light between two rooms.

You didn’t look away.

Neither did he.

It wasn’t intense, wasn’t wild. It was quiet. But it burned. A stillness that made the blood in your neck rush warm and visible under your skin.

The look of love, the rush of blood.

Not love, you told yourself. Not yet. But something.

Something enough to make the world feel a little less steady under your feet.

His gaze was unreadable in that moment, but not cold. If anything, it was too open. Like he forgot to build the walls in time. And you were suddenly aware of just how close he was. How little space separated the tips of your toes from his.

His lips parted, as if to say something, but no words followed. Just another breath. Another moment suspended.

Then…

“Yo, Raph! You owe me twenty bucks!”

Mikey’s voice pierced the silence like a stone through glass.

You startled, nearly dropping your glass. Leo flinched too, blinking rapidly and straightening up.

You both turned toward the entrance of the kitchen.

There, in the dim archway, were all of them. Donnie, Mikey, April, and Raph. Peeking around the corner like the world’s least discreet spies.

“We were literally betting on how long y’all would stare at each other,” April whispered, covering her mouth like it would muffle her amusement. “I said four minutes. Donnie said three and a half. Raph said…”

“…that it was weird and I didn’t wanna talk about it,” Raph grunted, arms crossed but unmistakably smug.

“I said nothing!” Donnie protested. “But I did start the stopwatch.”

Leonardo sighed heavily and rubbed a hand down his face. His cheeks were dusted with a deeper shade of green.

“You guys are unbelievable,” he muttered, already stepping toward the doorway.

“Wait!” Mikey grinned, wagging a finger. “We’re just saying-if you’re gonna be all moony-eyed in the kitchen, you could at least give us popcorn!”

“Out. Now,” Leo deadpanned, voice low but firm, ushering them back like a grumpy shepherd.

They scattered with laughter echoing behind them, leaving only faint shadows of teasing behind.

You turned away quickly, letting out a long breath and pressing your cool glass to your cheek. Your heart was pounding and you were very aware of it.

You bit your lip to keep from smiling.

“They’re never gonna let us live this down, huh?” you asked softly.

He shook his head, running a hand along the back of his neck. “Not a chance.”

A pause. Not awkward. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry if that was… weird,” he added after a beat. “Just… didn’t expect…”

“No,” you cut in, then smiled, eyes flicking up to meet his. “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t weird.”

He looked at you for a long second. Then, nodded, slow, thoughtful.

“Good.”

There was a comfort in the silence that followed, like the moment had passed but left something behind. Not a confession. Not even a plan. Just a mutual, quiet understanding that something had happened. And maybe that was enough for now.

You nudged his shoulder gently as you walked past him, glass still in hand.

“I’m heading back before Mikey starts narrating our nonexistent love story to the entire sewer system.”

Leo smirked, following you a step behind. “Too late. He’s probably already drafting the fanfiction.”

You both laughed quietly, and for a moment, the world felt smaller again, just you and him, and a flicker of something waiting beneath the surface.

Not love.

But maybe something that would become it,

In time.

[adebauchedsloth]

So much sexiness in one picture… 🤤🤤🤤

[adebauchedsloth]

Been about two months since I updated Dog Days. Still working, and I'm not a terribly fast writer. I have chapter 34, 35, and 36 more or less done, but I might want to get to chapter 38 before I post a couple. TBD. Just want anyone who cares to know that I am working 😂

In the meantime, here's a silly drawing of these two. Practicing my coloring. There's more I could do, but eventually I just hit a wall and need to leave it be.

[adebauchedsloth]

I LOVE THEM. They are adorable.

B Team, Bayverse Edition!

-> Commissions || My Kofi || Tip Jar :) <-

-> Fanfic Commissions! <-

Yes, it’s very rough and messy and ugh. I am very sorry about throwing out this after ages without posting, I just am very busy with work stuff as you can probably tell lol. This was stitched together over a month in a few minute breaks at a time so yeah it’s uh…a sketch.

[adebauchedsloth]

Oh my goodness. The last Mike and Donnie one. Adorableness overload.

新実写詰めver

[adebauchedsloth]

I love this thought series!

Random Turtle Thought...

(Thank you anon for asking for a Raph hanging by a thread thought! Here it is! Hope it satisfies!)

Raph is hanging by a thread.

Granted - It was one strong fucking thread, mind you. But still a thread nonetheless. The one that kept him on his feet whenever you drew near. The thread that kept him from dropping to his knee to pledge his life and his love to you. (That would be such a Leo move.)

Sitting there watching you sing though... The way your throat slid with the air moving in and out of your lungs, rocking up and down with your words. The way your lips, glistening with the sheen of your favorite cherry flavored chap stick, revealed then covered your teeth and moved in tandem with your tongue as you articulated the lyrics. Your eyes gently closed, laying your dark lashes down to kiss your cheeks, tinted just ever so faintly pink, as the music danced within your soul.

It was so easy to tweak the thought of what was going on in his mind. To imagine you beneath, or hell, on top of him for that matter, enjoying the moment as much as you were enjoying this song right now.

His resolve was slipping. The urge to tell you everything getting heavier. The thread beginning to fray. Tiny microfracture by tiny microfracture. Each second he sat there, drinking you in.

Then your bright eyes open and your beaming smile turns his way. The thread very nearly snaps right then and there. The moment is claiming him. The hesitation like a tiny, far-off voice in the back of his head screaming out against the pull. Getting fainter and fainter. Weaker and weaker.

He is on his feet moving to stand beside you. One hand at the small of your back. The other raising to cradle your face as he leans down close, singing along now in a husky, quiet voice. His lips dangerously close to yours. Holding you close. Whispering the song as if it might strengthen what little hold is left in that string.

His breath ghosting warm kisses against your skin. Offering to do more.

He could do this right? Say fuck it and whip out his sai to cut the thread altogether, severing its hold over him. To give in and confess. Tell you everything from the simple fantasies to the deepest desires. Finally admit out loud how in-love he was with you. How he'd dedicate his life to always reminding you how much he cherished you.

If only you'd let him. If only that thread tethered to his head would let him.

Your hand venters to his hip. Enchanting eyes drop to his lips. Breath mingling with his, the implicating of what would come if he could hold on just a little bit longer.

Raphael is hanging by a thread.

But he could do this, right? Be prince charming - dashing and debonair - to sweep you off your feet. Just this once. Silence the fear and the doubt. It wouldn't take much. To break that pesky thread and give in. Just this once.

Just this once.

><><><><><><><><

@luckycharms1701 @yorshie @justalotoffanfiction @definitely-canon @writinandcrying

@donniesgirlie @gornackeaterofworlds @thelaundrybitch @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo

@the-cauldron-witch @redsrooftopprincess @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @ninnosaurus @tmnt-tychou

@thepinkpanther83 @akari180 @milykins @citruswriter @jenuinely-speaking

@androidships007 @chicchanmooshy @peachesdabunny @msjadamatthews @ahhhhhhhhhfuck

@theanonymousninja247 @tmntngl

[adebauchedsloth]

@redsrooftopprincess @the-cauldron-witch @ninnosaurus

Do you per chance need some assistance good sir??? (¬‿¬)/\

◉Please do not repost, thank you◉

[adebauchedsloth]

Omg, the look on Raph's face 🤣

I finally finished a comic update! As usual, you can find the full update and the comic as a whole here on Webtoons.

[adebauchedsloth]

Happy pride month 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

Shout out to every Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fan ever

[adebauchedsloth]

I should just accept my fate of living in the turtle dad well.

Random Turtle Thought....

"Turtle Soup"

Little imaginations and brotherly shenanigans hard at work.

This was it. He was done for. And all he could do was wonder what madness had driven him here.

The bindings immobilizing him were too tight. He couldn't break free, no matter how hard he tried. A point his captors repeatedly drove home with him. His wrists ironically tied up at his chest as if his hands were folded in prayer. Appropriate, considering the flames of the fire beneath him were touching his shell now. Growing with a hunger that sought to consume him.

The forest around him was blanketed in darkness, save for the shadows darting in and out of view in the firelight as he contemplated his fate. He didn't know where he was. Only that he was on his own. That - and he had done a terrible thing.

The warriors he'd chosen to tangle with were far superior to him. He'd been outmatched. Even before he knew what was going on. All he had known was he was in a strange land, a strange forest, searching for a temple. One that legend said contained a scroll of ancient ninjitsu knowledge. Knowledge he needed. Knowledge that he could take back to the city and use at his will to defeat any who dared challenge him.

But then he'd been ambushed. Darting out of the shadows in a way he'd not even seen with his brothers and all their training. They were on him before he even knew what was happening. Their war cries drowning out thought as they forced him to the ground. Their numbers so many and movements so swift, his limbs were bound before he could do anything.

And now, looking up at a sky full of lonely glowing stars, all Mikey could do was pray that help came in time.

It didn't look like the fates were on his side tonight though. The lead warrior, his face hidden behind an indifferent white mask streaked with bright crimson lines, raised his staff high and demanded the mystic waters be brought forth. Not an ounce of hesitation to his decision. Not an inkling to hear out Mikey's desperate pleas to rectify his wrongs.

For his crime of betraying his own - and seeking out the ancient scroll of forbidden hidden knowledge - the clan had unanimously declared that Mikey must be made into turtle soup.

Cranking his head to the side, he watched with rising fear as two other warriors pushed a massive pot of the swirling, boiling waters that shimmered like a mermaid's tail towards him. Waters that he knew would be his demise as soon as it was poured over him. Doomed to suffer long before the relief of being washed away came.

The flames licked at his scales now. The panic rising. His pleas growing louder and more desperate. The clan of warriors now chanting. The light of fire flashing in and out of his eyes.

"No. Wait. There has to be another way!"

****

"And what exactly is going on here?" Donnie asked as he flicked on the bedroom light.

The purple clad tech genius leaned against the door frame, sipping his coffee as he took in the sight before him.

His younger brother Mikey laid out on the floor; yellow, orange, red and brown construction paper underneath him. A jump rope, several of their suit ties and even a bright pink scrunchie wrapped around his legs, shoulders and wrists. The lair's clutch of offspring, all dressed up with paper plate Kabuki masks, cardboard armor and paper mache weapons all frozen in place around him. Several flashlights placed about the room all facing towards the center and the storage tub where his wife usually kept her crotchet yarn full of glitter beside Mikey's head. The glow-in-the-dark stars stuck on the ceiling still a tinge green.

"Heh-heh. Good timing, bruh. I was almost a goner!"

"Ah man! Come on dad!" Milo groaned, dropping his arms and slumping his shoulders forward. "We were just about to turn him into turtle soup!"

"Dark."

"Well, he was trying to find our clan's temple," Caemon nervously offered as he lowered his Lego staff and lifted his makeshift mask. "He was going to use the family's scroll's ancient wisdom to rule the city!" the young turtle defended as he pointed to an old grocery list scratched out in Master Splinter's hand taped to the wall.

"I didn't even know I could do that."

"He had to be stopped! For our family honor!" little Scarlet shouted as she jumped out from behind the pot of glitter.

As if to further the point, tiny Mila bopped Mikey on top of the head with her paper towel roll.

"I see. Family honor does need to be defended. As do family secrets," Donnie mused as he took a sip of his coffee. "I'm confused about the tub of -,"

"Pot of mystic waters."

"Pot of mystic waters though."

"Oh! That's how we'll turn him into turtle soup!" Calix cheered throwing his arms up high. "It's the ultimate punishment for betraying your clan!"

Donnie raised his brow ridges over the rim of his mug.

"It doesn't really turn him into turtle soup, daddy. We know that's not how it works. It's just pretend for the game," Ophelia chimed in, twisting back to smile proudly up at her father. Her little toes turning inward farther than normal as she twirled her sparkly baton.

"Yeah, well, not tonight kiddos. It's time to get you all into bed anyway. Come on, before moms get mad." Mikey began to sit up, thankful that Donnie had interrupted the game just in time. He hated glitter. It always got stuck right where his shell met his body and it was annoying as hell.

"I don't see why they can't have a few more minutes."

"What?" Mikey's eyes went wide.

A chorus of excited gasps rang out from several little mouths as bright, eager eyes all turned to him. Each hanging on the words to be spoken next.

"Sure." A smirk he couldn't fight pulled at the corner of Donnie's mouth. "They can have just a few more minutes to finish their game. Besides, I'm totally unfamiliar with mystic water and the way it reduces one to edible soup. I'd love to see it first-hand."

"And here you are calling the kids dark -,"

****

The lead warrior threw his mask back on and held his staff high, giving out a mighty cry. The fire crackled with renewed life. The jungle surrounding them plunged back into darkness.

The other warriors roared with cheers as three of them shoved the swirling waters closer.

"No! Wait! Hold up! Jagger, don't -,"

It was no use. His fate was sealed as another warrior jumped forward to help tip the pot.

****

Mikey's expression sank into a deep scowl as the kids poured the tub of glitter over him. He blinked slowly as the itchy, reflective flakes coated his body.

Donnie nearly snorted into his coffee mug.

The kids all jumped and cheered in victory.

"Say," Mikey suddenly drawled. "Who wants to help uncle Don with the extra time before bed?" he asked sitting up with a wicked smirk.

"What?" Donnie's body stiffened in the doorway.

All eyes whiped around to Mikey. Each of the little ones now holding their breath excitedly to see what he would say now that he had successfully been punished for his crimes.

"Uncle Don says he doesn't know anything about your mystic waters, right?"

"Michael, don't you dare -,"

Several sets of little eyes began darting around at all the little heaps of glitter on the floor.

"Well how's he gonna learn about it if he can't study it?"

"Michael, I swear to almighty -,"

"In his lab - With all his equipment -,"

"Kids. Listen to me right now -,"

"Quick! Before he sends you to bed!"

Donatello threw his limbs out wildly as he tried his best to block the bedroom doorway. But the little turtle tots had a new mission. Scooping up handfuls of glitter, they stampeded the door, easily out maneuvering their uncle/father. The hallway echoed with thunderously little footsteps and giddy squeals and giggles as the kids all rushed the glitter to Donnie's lab.

Completely thwarted, the tallest brother turned a disgusted scowl back over his shoulder at his orange banded brother. "Well played," he snarled as Mikey just sneered back with a toothy grin.

There wasn't time to retaliate now though, and Donnie shot off after the kids.

"Leonardo! Raphael! Come collect your heathens! Milo! Ophelia! You two better not be partaking in this treachery! Lauren!"

><><><><><><><

@luckycharms1701 @yorshie @justalotoffanfiction @definitely-canon @writinandcrying

@donniesgirlie @gornackeaterofworlds @thelaundrybitch @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo

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[adebauchedsloth]

He's a cinnamon roll. Protect him at all costs!

@milykins Make sure you see this

Hey! Someone sent me an ask about writing this, but I can’t seem to find it anymore 😭😭

Either way, thank you to whoever suggested it

I hope you like how it turned out!

Mirror Talk

Bayverse Michelangelo x fem!reader

You’d never been very good at falling asleep when he was around.

Not because he was loud, though to be fair, he absolutely was but because having Michelangelo in your apartment meant having the human (or rather, turtle) equivalent of a party popper beside you. Even in silence, even wrapped up in your blanket watching old cartoons on mute, he vibrated with energy. Big, messy, alive energy.

You weren’t sure how he managed to take up so much space without actually doing anything. But it wasn’t a complaint.

Right now, he was lying on your floor, feet up on the couch, hoodie sleeves rolled to his elbows. The light from your TV flickered across his plastron. You were half-asleep on the couch cushions above him, head resting against a throw pillow that still smelled like laundry detergent and takeout.

“I’m bored,” he announced suddenly, kicking his feet up and down like a kid at a sleepover.

“You’re watching a movie,” you said, eyes closed. “You chose the movie.”

“Yeah, but now I’m watching you sleep instead and that’s not technically entertainment unless you start snoring.”

You cracked one eye open and gave him a look. “Do I snore?”

He grinned. “Nah. You make these little pfft noises with your nose like a sleepy baby hedgehog. It’s adorable.”

“Should I be flattered or mildly concerned that you know this?”

“Yes.”

You groaned, dragging a pillow over your face. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet.” He wiggled his fingers in the air. “You’re still dating me.”

“Remind me why?”

“Because I’m the total package, babe. Brains, beauty, biceps.” He flexed one arm, which promptly hit your coffee table with a thunk. “Also, I do great impressions.”

You peeked at him from under the pillow. “Impressions?”

He cleared his throat, sat up slightly, and in a high, nervous voice, said:

“Hi, uh, you probably don’t wanna go out with me, but if you maybe did, like, want to get pizza or something sometime… I mean, unless you hate pizza, then we could get, like, tofu. Or air. Or I could just cry into my pillow—”

You were laughing before he finished the sentence.

“What was that?”

“That,” he said dramatically, resting a hand over his chest, “was me. Two weeks ago. In the mirror. For like forty-five minutes.”

You blinked. “…You practiced asking me out in the mirror?”

“Bro, so much.” He flopped back down with a groan. “You have no idea. I stood in Donnie’s lab with a broom and a helmet on top and practiced every version of asking you out that a person could possibly imagine. Smooth guy Mikey. Sensitive poet Mikey. Straight-up ‘I wrote you a rap’ Mikey.”

“Please tell me you didn’t write a rap.”

“Oh, I did. I deleted it. But it rhymed ‘booyakasha’ with ‘your aura’s like matcha.’ I was proud.”

You buried your face in the blanket, laughing so hard your ribs hurt. “That’s terrible.”

“I know! That’s why I deleted it! But you were so cool and chill and smart and pretty and I was like “oh no, she has actual standards, I need to rehearse or I’ll ruin everything”.”

You turned toward him, still laughing, but softer now.

“You didn’t need to rehearse, Mikey. I liked you already.”

“Yeah, but like… you’re you,” he said, half-laughing, half-sincere, sitting up now, cross-legged and looking a little pink beneath the orange. “I didn’t wanna mess it up by being, y’know, me.”

You leaned down and kissed the top of his head, resting your forehead against his.

“You didn’t mess it up.”

“I didn’t?”

“Not even with the matcha rhyme.”

He grinned, wide and boyish. “Then I guess the mirror speech worked after all.”

“Oh my god.” You pushed his shoulder. “I’m dating a dork.”

“I’m your dork.” He tackled you back onto the couch, dramatically, like a Broadway fall, arms flailing. “And this dork wants cuddles, please and thank you.”

You squealed as he flopped half on top of you, a giant living weighted blanket in a hoodie, all warm muscle and ridiculous affection.

“You’re crushing me!”

“I contain multitudes,” he mumbled, face buried in your neck. “I contain love. And also dumpling farts. But mostly love.”

And somehow, despite the chaos, the noise, and the sheer amount of shell currently pressing into your ribs, you felt completely at peace.

Two weeks in, and already, you couldn’t imagine anything else.

[adebauchedsloth]

LOOK AT THEM. Look at how precious Donnie is!

i miss your bayverse tmnt fanarts 😓

i also missed my bayverse tmnt fanarts

[adebauchedsloth]

Oh, this is gonna be good!

The Feral Harmony (Pt.1 Discordant Duet)

Story Prompt: “Turtle Song”

Bayverse Raphael x Fem!Reader - Soulmate AU - Action/Romance

PROMPT:

The turtles have, and continually practice a "Turtle Song." Their mate(s) or potential mate(s) is/are the only human who can hear/react to said song. That's how they know that person is "The One."

Note: This story is Part Two in the Resonance Series! Please read Donatello's story "The Harmonic Equation" before this one.

💌 Author’s Note:

To my readers, the romantics, the thrill-seekers, thank you for coming this far into the shadows with me.

You’ll have to read Donatello’s story “The Harmonic Equation” first for Raph’s story to make full sense since it’s a series.

Although “The Savage Interval” is the climax of Raph’s story, a story about impossible choices, wild devotion, and what happens when the heart collides with duty. This story is where the stakes catch fire. It’s also the bridge into Leo’s arc next in, “The Silent Duet,” where this symphony of war and soulmates continues to unfold.

As always, your support means the world to me. Your comments, likes/kudos, reblogs, and screams in the tags and comments keep this world alive. You know who you are, and I adore you!

Strap in, hold tight, and remember: some songs don’t ask to be heard.

They demand it.

Thanks for reading! ~Pinkie 🍒 (and Raph, who is not sorry for any of his actions!)

Masterlist

Find me on AO3.

Read this story on AO3.

Find the full series on AO3.

Summary:

As tensions rise between the brothers and their enemies, Raphael and his soulmate take the fight into enemy territory, armed with nothing but raw instincts, a fragile plan, and the kind of bond that refuses to be silenced.

But loyalty is a double-edged blade, and in this story, it cuts deep.

“The Feral Harmony” is a story of risk, revelation, and that sharp inhale right before everything explodes.

Next Chapter: Chapter Two: “Reverb of Fate and Fire”

Click "Keep Reading" below the cut to read. 😘

Chapter One: “Discordant Duet”

The cleanup was already underway by the time Raph rolled his eyes and cracked his knuckles, the dull thud of his feet on scorched concrete echoing through Donnie’s battered lab. Sparks fizzled from severed wires, casting jittery shadows over overturned tables and shattered monitors. It smelled like ozone, metal, and something else- something faintly sweet and carnal.

He stepped over a cracked CPU shell and paused, glancing back toward his brothers. Mikey was griping about manual labor while hauling a limp Foot soldier like a sack of potatoes. Leo barked a crisp order: "Dump site D. Quietly."

"Great," Raph muttered, already swinging debris over his shoulder. "Garbage duty. My favorite."

He crouched low near the pile of unconscious enemies, griping half-heartedly to himself. Donnie stood stiffly nearby, hands twitching, still crackling with adrenaline. His girl- no, his mate now, apparently, was behind him, half-wrapped in a borrowed hoodie and still clutching a soldering iron like a dagger. Raph glanced away, uncomfortable with the intimacy clinging to the room like humidity.

He grabbed the nearest body.

Lighter than expected.

His brow furrowed. They were geared like the rest- black armor, Foot insignia, matte helmet with a cracked lens. But the weight was off. Subtle curves under hardened plating, and the smell… not just blood and sweat. Something quieter, sweeter. Like a question asked in a dream.

He hoisted her easily over one shoulder, grunting curiously a little as he adjusted her. She didn’t stir.

Good.

He started down the tunnel. The further he moved from the lab, the quieter it got. Just the hum of electricity echoing through the sewers and the rhythmic splash of water beneath his boots.

His mind wandered.

Almost unconsciously, his fingers tapped against her thigh armor in rhythm. Not quite a song, not really. Just a beat. An old habit. The kind of half-melody he'd hum while patching his gear or when the others were sleeping.

It slipped from his lips before he could stop it.

Soft. Half-sung.

Just a whisper of a thing, ancient and threadbare. A tune he didn’t remember learning.

But the body on his shoulder twitched.

He froze.

Only for a second.

Heartbeat spiked. He tightened his grip instinctively, shifting her weight, checking for a blade hidden in the crook of her belt.

Nothing.

She settled again.

Raph exhaled. Maybe a nerve spasm. Maybe adrenaline still burning out of her muscles. He told himself not to think about it. Told himself he was imagining the way the air seemed to shift around them, thickening, warping.

"Don't be dumb," he muttered, kicking open the next tunnel gate.

Still, as he walked, the melody echoed back to him. Not just in his voice.

In hers.

Silent. Beneath the skin.

Something called.

And for the first time in years, the beating in his chest didn’t feel like his own.

Darkness.

Everything aches. Your skull pounds like someone struck it with a steel pipe. Your ribs scream. Your wrists are chafed. There’s a bruise blooming over your hip where something heavy… or someone heavy, had landed.

But it’s not pain that wakes you.

It’s sound.

A melody. Gentle. Primitive. Oddly familiar.

It cuts through the black like a beacon. Not loud, not urgent- just steady. Pulling.

You stir.

There’s pressure against your side. An arm?

No… a shoulder.

You’re being carried.

Your limbs go tense, instincts screaming awake. Your eyes snap open.

The world is murky, spinning. A low tunnel. Stone walls streaked with age. Sewer lights humming above.

You growl- a guttural warning, and you move.

Raph barely has time to register the motion before you twist, snarling, and writhing in his grasp.

"Shit!" he barks, thrown off balance.

You hit the ground with a thud, knocking your shoulder hard, but you roll like a panther, already crouched, one hand braced to the floor, the other curling into a fist. Your helmet’s now gone, but you still have a mask obscuring the lower half of your face. Your silky hair’s a mess. Your lip is split and there's a dark smudge on your cheekbone… but your eyes?

Calculating.

Feral.

Alive.

Like you’re reading the entire situation and deciding whether to bolt, brawl, or bite.

Raph holds his hands up, palms wide. "Easy. You’re not in the lab anymore. You make one move and I’ll drop you fast, but I ain’t gonna hit you unless you try somethin’ stupid."

You don’t speak. Just narrow your eyes. Breathing hard.

Raph tilts his head. "You heard it too, didn’t you?"

No answer.

But your gaze flickers. Just for a second. To his chest. Then to his lips.

The melody’s stopped. The echo lingers.

Something old.

Something neither of them should know.

And yet-

It hums between them, invisible.

Undeniable.

"Yeah," Raph mutters. "I fuckin’ knew it."

You don't know what he's talking about, but you straighten slowly, hand still braced on the floor, muscles coiled. His stance widens slightly when you move, expecting a bolt or a blow. But you just tilt your head.

His fist falters just slightly as it flexes. His jaw works.

But you felt it, too.

A shiver you can’t suppress snakes up your spine. That song- his song, still thrums under your skin, louder now that he’s this close, almost touching. You shouldn't feel this. You’ve never felt this. And it rattles you more than any blow could.

What the hell did he do to you?

"Why’d you drop me?" you ask, voice dry, smoky. "Was I too heavy for you, big boy?"

Raph scoffs, adjusting his stance. "You were unconscious. I didn’t know right away you were a chick. Don’t flatter yourself."

You grin behind your mask. It’s the first expression he sees that doesn’t scream murder. Just mischief.

"Fair. But you didn’t answer the question."

You shift your weight. One step back.

He mirrors.

You test it. Another step. His body blocks the tunnel like a dam, broad and solid. You hum faintly, feinting right, but then pivot left.

He catches you before you slip past.

You twist, sharp like a viper, launching a hit toward his side. He dodges. Just barely.

The fight isn’t long.

But it’s close.

You stay low, quick, using the narrow space to your advantage. He’s stronger, but you’re smarter. Dirtier. Your elbow finds his ribs. His arm wraps your waist. You duck, sweep, grab his wrist. Kick his head, he grunts. You breathe hard. Eyes lock.

Every motion is muscle against instinct.

Then he grabs.

And you don’t slip away fast enough.

You’re pinned.

His forearm against your collarbone. Your back hits cold stone hard. You gasp, but don’t flinch. He’s close. Too close.

In the scuffle, your mask is yanked halfway off.

Time stops.

His eyes widen.

You blink up at him through tousled strands, breath warm between you. Bruised, bloodied… but so beautiful.

Too beautiful.

He forgets to breathe.

What the hell is happening to me? He thinks, wild-eyed.

You smirk.

"Like what you see, muscles?"

He doesn’t answer.

He can’t.

Then your smirk shifts- sly, seductive. Your fingers trace a slow line down the curve of his plastron.

“I’ll make you a deal, handsome… let me go,” you murmur, voice a velvet promise. “I’ll come back. We can… pick up where we left off.”

Your touch lingers just a moment longer.

“Maybe next time you’ll hum that song for me again… naked.”

Raph stiffens. His grip falters just slightly. His jaw works.

He wants to say no. He should say no.

But his body leans in.

“If I see you again,” he growls, voice low and strained, “I’m draggin’ your ass in.”

“I’m counting on it.” You purr as you brush past him.

And then you’re gone.

Slipping into the shadows like smoke.

Raph stands frozen in the tunnel, heart hammering, adrenaline crashing. The song still hums in his bones.

He doesn’t know your name. Doesn’t know what just happened.

But it sure as hell ain’t over.

All he knows is-

He wants you.

The silence swells after you vanish, and Raph just stands there.

Alone.

Breathing hard. Fists clenched.

The tunnel smells like sweat, smoke, and whatever perfume you wore- if it even was perfume. Maybe it was just you. Whatever it is, it clings to him, seared into his memory.

His fingers twitch, aching to grab something. A weapon. A wall. A reason.

But all he’s got is the echo of that song in his chest, loud and low, like it belongs to both of you now.

“Shit,” he mutters, dragging a hand over his face.

That’s when he hears them.

Loud footsteps sloshing through sewer muck. Voices.

“Yo, Raph?” Mikey’s voice cuts through the dark. “You still tossin’ bodies or did you decide to take a nap down here with your murder buddies?”

A flashlight beam bounces off the tunnel wall. Leo’s silhouette sharpens beside it, crisp and commanding.

“There was one more on Donnie’s list,” Leo calls. “You get rid of him?”

Raph turns, schooling his face. Nods once, sharp.

“Yeah,” he lied. “He’s handled.”

Leo narrows his eyes, studying him for a moment longer than necessary. Mikey, oblivious, just keeps walking, humming tunelessly and swinging his nunchaku like he’s conducting an orchestra.

“Good,” Leo says, finally. “Let’s wrap this up. We’ve been down here too long already.”

Raph grunts, falling in behind them.

But as they walk, he can still feel it.

That hum under his skin.

That flicker in his blood.

Handled?

Not even close.

No way in hell was he done with her.

You don’t stop running until the tunnel curves and the flicker of sewer light disappears behind you.

Your ribs scream. Your ankle throbs from the scuffle. Your lip bleeds in a thin line down your chin. But none of it matters.

You keep running.

Ducking through side passages, vaulting over pipes, and navigating the twisting arteries of the undercity like a ghost retracing old steps. You know these routes. You’ve used them a dozen times before.

But tonight, everything feels different.

Your heart won’t settle.

It’s not the pain. It’s not even the close call.

It’s him.

That thing that passed between you. Invisible. Inexplicable.

The second he started humming, something inside you shifted. Like a fault line cracking. You didn’t recognize the tune- couldn’t hum it back if your life depended on it, but you felt it. Felt it the way you’d feel a storm in your bones, or déjà vu crawling down your spine.

It lit something in you. A flare. A frequency.

It was just a song.

But it wasn’t.

Even now, sprinting breathless into the dark, you swear you can still feel it- like a whisper under your skin, low and distant, tugging at a part of you you didn’t know existed.

You press a hand to your chest as you slow your pace, finally ducking into a narrow crawlspace you’ve used before to hide. A small alcove behind rusted utility pipes. Safe. Quiet.

Your breath saws in and out.

You close your eyes.

His face flashes in your mind- sharp green eyes, the brutal curve of his mouth, the weight of him pinning you to the stone, the sound of his voice when he growled that threat.

If I see you again…

A shiver dances up your spine.

You should be terrified.

You’re not.

You should report him.

You won’t.

You should forget.

You can’t.

Instead, you tilt your head back against the wall, eyes wide in the dark, lips parted with adrenaline and disbelief.

“What the hell was that?” you whisper to no one.

No answer comes.

Just the lingering pull of a melody that doesn’t belong to you. But now, somehow… does.

Next Chapter: Chapter Two: “Reverb of Fate and Fire”

Who loves TMNT, show of hands! 😂 Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list!

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Masterlist

[adebauchedsloth]

Mysteries of the Universe

Story Prompt: “Turtle Song”

A/N: The idea behind this is that each turtle has a unique 'song' they sing, and that only their soulmate can hear it. I also wrote this at 2am with insomnia.

Ever since he and his brothers had been young, they’d each had a unique tune that they hummed to themselves in moments of quiet and calm. They did not know where the tune came from, but knew it all the same. It was as much a part of them as the shell on their back, or the beat of their heart. Sometimes they questioned how they knew this song or why they felt compelled to sing it, but even their father did not know, so they let it be one of the mysteries of the universe.

Donatello liked to solve the mysteries of the universe, however, and promised himself that one day he would figure out the why of it.

When they got older, however, the same song that had brought them comfort as children somehow made them feel sad when sung now. There was a longing there at the heart of it that none of the brothers could understand or touch. That was until Leo met the person who would become his mate.

The brothers all still continued to sing their songs to themselves in the quiet moments, despite the touch of heartache it somehow always brought, but their friend couldn’t seem to hear them, which puzzled them all. How could they not hear it? It was plain as day to the rest of them. Yet their friend said they could not… Donatello immediately wanted to investigate, and sat their friend down to ask more questions. He sang his song, but their friend simply looked at him in confusion and Don had to scratch his head and push down the feeling of frustration. What kind of puzzle was this? Could their friend be joking?

When Leo entered the room, however, their friend’s head cocked to the side as if listening. The response was immediate and instinctual, and Don narrowed his eyes.

“Leo sings beautifully, though,” they said, and Donatello was now more perplexed than ever. How could they hear Leo’s song, but not the rest of theirs?

The reason made itself apparent as Leonardo and their friend fell in love.

And then Michelangelo met someone who could only hear his song, and they, too, fell in love.

“It’s scientifically impossible,” Donatello had grumbled, disturbed by the fact that somehow, twice, there had been this phenomenon where it seemed that only one person could hear a brother’s song and they turned out to be made for each other. Donatello had never seen Leo or Mike so happy, in fact.

“Maybe it’s some kind of soul mate song. Who knows,” Raphael had offered and Donatello had scoffed.

Time went on, and then Raphael, too, found his song partner, and Donatello was at an utter loss. He did not want to believe that he was afflicted with something that could not be scientifically proven. Soul mates? He didn’t even believe in such a thing. And yet the evidence was directly in front of him with his three brothers happily partnered and even starting families.

And yet Donatello remained alone. He still hummed his song to himself, though much less frequent now. It was only when he was completely alone did it slip out, and the longing that it brought made him bite his lip to hold his mouth closed.

Time went on, his brother's families grew, and Donatello had to admit to himself that he was lonely. But he was a turtle of science. He couldn’t wait around for some sort of ‘magic soul mate song’ to do whatever hocus pocus out in the universe. No. He was more sensible than that.

He met someone. Someone kind and with a keen mind who, though not being able to hear his song, made him happy. He felt content, even in those quiet moments where his song still softly slipped out, bringing with it a bit of that old longing, though it was not as sharp.

Soon he followed along the same path as his brothers and he and his mate welcomed their first child into the world, and again, Donatello felt the mysteries of the universe surround him. How could he possibly love something so instantly? Be willing to die for it? Except this time it was not a mystery he needed to solve. It just was, and he was content with that. He held his child in his arms, rocking it gently as his mate rested, and in the quiet moment his song slipped past his lips, a sort of lullaby as he knew no actual lullabies.

The baby’s head turned towards him at the sound, its little face looking up at him with such awe and wonder and Donatello felt time stand still. He sang again, and the perfect little being in his arms stared at him in rapt attention, and Donatello felt such a surge of love that it nearly overwhelmed him.

He sang. He sang and sang until the child fell asleep in his arms, and Donatello marveled at the mysteries of the universe.