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shellaxdude · 25 days ago

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TMNT - Leave A Message

Summary: Leonardo clings to the Turtle Comm. as his only light and link to the outside world under a heap of rubble. He can't hear the others, but they can hear him.

Written on the spur of the moment for @shellaxdude's TMNTgust Day 6 Prompt: A sewer tunnel caves in, and Leo is trapped.

“Hey, fellas…Just calling in real quick to let you know…it’s weird but, um, I’m not really as scared right now as I could be.” Much to Leonardo’s sense of hazy, dull surprise but it was the honest truth.

Sure, the situation he was in wasn’t ideal; it was one of the furthest things from ideal. He had only ever been separated from his team when something was very, very wrong, when a bigger battle was being waged. Sometimes (more times than he cared to think back on) it was a grappling match with himself, the cold, clenching claws of self-doubt, the fear of failure. He was never really sure why crises of confidence drove him to go off on his own…Embarrassment, perhaps, for his weakness of character. But for as much as the guys loved to tease him, they loved him just as much. He really should be leaning on them even more in those moments so they could bolster him.

Hence his striving to keep a tight hold on the Turtle Comm. now, no matter how his clumsy, buzzing fingers fumbled. Hence his straining to take a deep, calming breath despite the relentless weight bearing down on his shell. It stuttered a little on the exhale but the intent was there. It was a good effort.

“I know you’re close, even if you can’t get through right now to tell me. It’s okay.”

(“It’s not okay! What’s the deal, Donatello?! We can hear him but he can’t hear us? Last I checked this was supposed to be a two-way street!”

“I’m working on it!”)

When it wasn’t the plague of insecurity urging him to isolate, it was an extenuating circumstance that had forced them apart. Such was the case now and he found himself strangely grateful, in a way. If he was already having a down-on-himself day before he walked straight into an unstable sewer tunnel, he would have been kicking himself even harder.

Of course to do that, he would have needed his legs free of the rubble to kick.

His train of thought was going in circles, churning up a mental fog, he realized distantly, blinking harder in an attempt to clear it and the sting of dust. His vision swam all the more viciously for his efforts, his right eyelid uncomfortably gluey and warm with the blood seeping into his mask. Such a vibrant red, even if only in his peripheral vision—so much starker when bathed in the harsh light of his comm.

“I’m sorry in advance about that, by the way. I’m not trying to be a copycat, Raphael…Red’s still your color. Although red and blue make purple so…maybe I ought to be saying sorry to Donatello? It doesn’t look very purple yet. Maybe it hasn’t fully soaked in. Or maybe I just don’t have the right angle.” Rolling his eyes in their sockets to look was a futile affair too; it only tempted them to close without his permission. “I, uh…didn’t set out to steal anybody’s look. I didn’t mean for this…any of this to happen. Sorry, again.”

(“It’s not your fault, compadre, you don’t have to say sorry for anything! You—You just keep talking, okay? Keep awake and keep talking. We’re listening, I promise.”)

“It’ll be nice to put a fresh mask on, though, after you come get me. It’s like that clean sheets feeling, you know? Or that new book smell. Wait, no, that…old book smell. The new one is the car smell. Heh…we didn’t get much of that with the Turtle Van…Michelangelo made us stop for a celebratory pizza the first day and that new car smell was gone.”

(“We’ll get half a dozen pizzas to celebrate getting you outta there!”)

What was he talking about before? He pondered the question for a beat, then two, then three, each marked by a throbbing ache in his head. Head…Face…Masks, right, right. “Whenever I put a clean mask on, it’s like…I don’t know, like…seeing the world with fresh eyes.”

(“Geez, even when he’s delirious, he turtle-waxes poetic!”)

“I know, I know, that was probably too cheesy. Sorry.” Like a domino effect “cheesy” made him think of pizza, which reminded him of tomato sauce, which made him even more acutely aware of the sluggish red oozing down his face, thick enough now that it was starting to seep from the corner of his eye toward his cheekbone. “I hope this stain comes out without too much trouble.” His breath hitched belatedly in realization, fire raking at his tight chest and throat as he struggled to stifle a cough and a groan combined. “Oh, no, I forgot to lay out the laundry! Master Splinter’s gonna be mad…D-Don’t…Don’t be mad. Nnnh…Nobody say anything, okay, I-I’ll do it as soon as we get home. I’m sorry.”

(“Leonardo, you apologize for no good reason one more time and I’ll make you sorry as soon as we—!”

“We’re not mad, bud, nobody’s mad at you. Well, not all of us. …Raphael’s just mad cause he’s worried. And not about the laundry.”)

“I really was gonna do it last night. I was just…tired.”

A poor excuse for someone with his discipline and responsibilities. He should have done better; he should have made sure everything at home was in order, all the hatches battened down before he created another mess to clean up.

Oh, joy. Maybe it was a down-on-himself day. He didn’t want to do this now; the unseen claws digging into him made it all feel so much heavier. His sigh creaked and whistled oddly as he gradually lowered his head to rest against his one free arm.

“I’m tired,” he murmured, more to the static tunneling through the Turtle Comm. screen than to anyone or anything beyond it. The fuzz was kind of mesmerizing to watch, spilling out to dance with the dust particles and other vague spots filling his vision.

(“Hey, hey, no, y-you can’t be tired now! The party’s just getting started! We’re working on it as fast as we can, okay? Just hang tight.”

“Oh, what sage advice. What else can he do? He can’t even hear you! Donatello—”

“I’m trying! The signal is there but all the interference is making it hard to precisely trace.”

“Yeah, and I bet all that rubble is making it pretty hard for him to breathe!”

“You think I don’t know that?!”

“Come on, you two, cool it! If he could hear us right now, he wouldn’t want to hear you fighting. We gotta keep it together for him.”)

“I’m tired…” he repeated, peeling his eyes back open. It was harder than it should have been; he wasn’t even sure when he had closed them. “…but I’m not scared. I…Did I tell you that already? I don’t know if I did or if you heard me. Or if you can even hear me right now. I hope you can. I hope you know I know you know…er…” A dry, barking cough interrupted him. The force it took to tear free against the pressure of the rubble made his stomach lurch. “…Mmh. Sorry.”

(“Leonardo, I swear—! Just—just stop it, stop saying you’re sorry, please, it doesn’t—you’re making it—I can’t—!”

“Okay, okay, give me that back now. Just take a second, Raphael. I know. But that’s not helping. You need to breathe too.”)

“I hope you know…” he began again, slow and deliberate to ensure his words weren’t slurring so much as to be unintelligible. “…I know you’re on your way. You’re doing your best. Donatello’s gonna work his magic. Raphael’s gonna be the backbone…Heh, or all the ribs. Ribbing. Michelangelo’s gonna keep giving you a boost whenever you need it…Master Splinter’s there for advice…” A faint, squeaky excuse for a chuckle rattled loose. “What do you need me for?”

(“Dude…”

“He doesn’t mean it. He’s lost blood and he has a limited amount of oxygen. It’s messing with his mind. Data-dump it. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”)

“The only reason I can be so…fearless when I lead is cause I’m leading great guys like you. I got…complete confidence in you. Even when I don’t have it in me. You’re gonna…ghh…h-have my back like you always do. Right on my heels.” He paused, licking dry lips with a tongue just as dry. It tasted like dirt and dust with a tang of metal. “Although…s’ probably a good thing you weren’t following me that closely today or you would’ve been stuck in here too. Mm…’Least then I wouldn’t have to do all the talking myself. M’ thirsty.”

Maybe Master Splinter would make him a cup of that sweet milk tea when they got home, after he was done being mad at him.

What was he mad at him about again? He was missing. No, he had missed something. Skipped something.

“…Oh. Dang it, I forgot about the laundry. I meant to do it before, I was just…” Tired. Really, really tired. At least his head didn’t ache quite as much as he tucked it further into the crook of his arm for a pillow, mumbling, “…S-Sorry. I’ll try to remember to do it when we get home. Hopefully Sensei just won’t even notice.”

Where was Sensei now? Where was he? The Turtle Comm. cast such a dizzying light and his eyes were so raw and heavy, he couldn’t make out much of his surroundings anymore.

“What am I saying? He probably already knows. He knows everything. I hope he’s not mad.”

(“He’s not. He’s really not. He’s just gonna be glad you’re home safe, cause that’s what’s happening today, okay? Leonardo? We’re gonna get you home safe and sound. We’re almost there.”)

“…What am I saying? Mmmgh, I don’t even know. Doesn’t matter. I should stop yapping now, huh? S’ probably getting boring.”

(“No, no, no, keep talking, bud! I don’t even care what you’re saying, just keep talking, stay with us! Just a little longer!”)

“I think m’ just gonna nap for a bit. Pass the time faster.”

(“No!”)

“I hope that’s okay…”

(“Don’t you dare—!”)

“Maybe I’ll be able t’ sleep off this headache…S’ really killing me. So I guess just…wake me whenever you get here. Okay…Bye.”

The darkness was uncomfortably chilly but enveloping, welcoming even, once somebody turned off that one glaring light. The thought flitted briefly by that he could theoretically shuffle a bit, try to find a more comfortable position, but his body was already so leaden and tingly. He didn’t want to move. He’d make do. He could sense as it encroached that despite the cold, this was going to be a deep, dreamless sleep.

The best kind. With luck he might even be able to drown out the rumbling and crashing sound effects from…whatever the others had on the TV right now. For some reason they were cranking the volume up higher and higher with every passing second, incessant, intrusive, but he was too drowsy to complain. He couldn’t stay mad at them.

He couldn’t do or feel much of anything.

“Leonardo!”

#this was great! thanks for the tag!#tmnt 2025 #tmntgust #tmnt 87

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shellaxdude · 27 days ago

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oh this was fantastic! thank you for tagging me!

TMNTgust Prompts

Day 1: April and Raph getting up to shenanigans

Iteration: 2003 characters (I had a very specific dynamic in mind that I wanted to explore with these two)

Baggage

content warning: mention of child abandonment trauma

When Raph had received an angry phone call from April earlier that evening, he had thought for sure that she had made a mistake. Not that he would ever admit it to Casey, but Raph had always had a sneaking suspicion that April was not his biggest fan.

Sure, she was polite and cordial enough when he was around. And yeah, he had no doubt that she genuinely cared about his wellbeing, just as she did any of his brothers, but there was a reason he did his best to give her as much space as possible.

When April came down to the lair for a visit, she and Donnie would quickly disappear into his lab to continue whatever project it was they were currently working on. She and Leo often had lengthy discussions about the storylines of books she had lent him, sometimes even evolving into a good-natured argument over their favorite characters or their respective interpretations of one of the book's themes. Mikey, while annoying, clearly held a soft spot in her heart from the ways she would indulge him: patiently listening to his lengthy excited explanations about the comic he was drawing or helping him with the spice balance of a recipe he had yet to master.

It was no secret how much Splinter enjoyed her company, how he never lost an opportunity to chat with her over tea in the kitchen or his room. And likewise, her enjoyment of his company was returned in kind.

Raph, on the other hand, hardly got to speak to April unless she stuck around for dinner or was present to assist on a mission. He saw the annoyed looks she wore when he and Casey began to rough house a bit too much, if he raised his voice a bit too loud, too suddenly. He felt her eyes on him sometimes, judging him when he was in the dojo in the midst of violently demolishing his punching bag after an argument with Leo where Raph would inevitably be proven to be the unreasonable one yet again.

So, when he had answered his phone in the middle of his evening weight training and heard an audibly upset April asking if he was free at the moment, Raph admittedly felt confused. After he finally managed to answer, she told him where to meet and ended the call abruptly. No further details, explanation, nothing.

The confusion did not abate when he met her at her apartment and she told him she wanted help taking something to the landfill, when they arrived there and she asked if he could set it up on top of a small pile of garbage, nor when he stood back and watched as she proceeded to absolutely demolish the item in question.

Now standing somewhat awkwardly to the side, Raph continued to watch in rapt silence as the normally well put together redhead took out what must have been a lifetime's worth of anger on some poor unsuspecting old looking radio.

Raph admittedly did not know much about antiques but the radio seemed in good enough condition to sell, probably for a decent price too. The woodwork was precise, detailed, and polished, the speaker openings in the shape of cathedral style windows. When they were younger, Donnie had gotten overly invested in old timey receivers and had spoken at length, to the entire family's chagrin, about his favorite variations of 1930s-1940s era radios, and how hard it was to find one in good functional condition. What Raph could not understand is why April seemed intent to destroy what appeared to be a perfectly fine looking piece.

The old half rusted pipe she was using to carry out her violent execution actually snapped upon her fifth or sixth swing. There was a moment of tense silence before she threw what remained of her weapon and outright pushed what remained of the radio onto the ground. Her boot came down on it, again and again and again. Splinters of wood and glass flew across the dirt in all directions, skittering to a stop near his feet where he stood several yards away at the fence line.

Well past once the radio was reduced to nothing but shards of its former self, she continued to rub its remains into the ground with the sole of her shoe. Raph only approached when she finally stopped to catch her breath.

"You, um, ok?"

As if in response, she merely kicked a patch of dead grass onto the corpse of her now defeated defenseless opponent.

"That thing owe you money or something?" His attempt to lighten the mood was initially met with a wall of stoney silence. As seconds ticked by, painfully long, he began to regret his choice to speak in the first place.

"It was my father's," she finally responded, hands slightly shaking. When she offered no further explanation, he prodded further before he could think better of it.

"I thought you got along with your dad?"

"I do." She unconsciously tucked a piece of hair behind her ear that had come loose, eyes still fixated on what remained of the radio. "Just not my father."

It took him a moment before he understood.

"He left when I was twelve," she explained, every syllable sharpened. "My sister and I only heard from him a few times a year if we were lucky. Broke my mom for a while. Robyn had to pick up the slack, make sure Mom and I were okay while he was off living his best life."

Her hands shook slightly as she continued.

"It took my mom nearly a year before she started looking and acting like herself again. Another year later, she met my dad and things finally really settled back down." She rested her hands on her hips, fingers digging into the fabric of her sweater. "Then out of nowhere last month, I get a call from my father."

The laugh that escaped her was short, humorless, and bitter. "He's dying. And he wants to send me something special. Something for me to sell in the shop since he 'didn't have a lot to leave me and Robyn.' As if that's supposed to make up for everything."

When she lifted her sleeve to wipe at her face, Raph pretended not to notice. "Sounds like a real jerk," he replied before he could stop himself.

She failed to snap at him for this or even give him a frustrated look. Tense silence stretched into long painful minutes.

"Do you want me to get Casey or Don out here?"

She shook her head.

"Leo?"

Again, she shook her head.

"Is there anyone ?"

"I'm sorry for dumping this in your lap," she sighed, suddenly cut him off, arms folding over her chest. "I didn't mean to interrupt what you had going on tonight. I just..." She took a breath, finally turning her head to look at him. "I couldn't think of anyone else."

He nearly balked at that. "Don't take this the wrong way, but why me?"

She seemed to consider her words for a moment. "I needed support from someone who'd understand."

"Understand...?"

"Why I needed to do this." She gestured to the remains of the radio to which he responded with a nod, only half understanding. "You didn't try to stop me or ask me why."

"You seemed upset." He shrugged slightly as a small smile settled onto her face. "Sorry you only had me to call," he added, only half joking. "Would've been better if there was someone you liked a bit more."

Her smile vanished momentarily as she registered his words, confusion prominent in her eyes. "Why would you say that?"

"I don't know," he practically muttered, struggling to figure out a way to somehow backtrack. When he failed to find one, he decided the best way out was through. "You just...I always got the idea that you didn't really like me is all."

She was fully facing him now, her expression something akin to concern or pity. "Raph..."

"You don't need to feel bad about it," he insisted. "I know I'm not the easiest guy to get along with. It's kinda part of the deal when you decide to get involved with my family, me being upset over nothin' a lot of the time. And I guess I'm also part of the package when it comes to Casey "

"Raph," her tone was firm but not unkind. "You and Casey can be a bit much when you're together but that doesn't mean I hate you."

He blinked.

"And you're not some baggage I reluctantly put up with so I can spend time with Leo or Don or anyone else in your family. I like you. And I'm sorry for giving you any reason to think otherwise."

Raph's fingers played with his belt loops, trying to suppress the weird feeling he was experiencing but could not quite name. "Nah, it's my fault. I tend to take a lotta things personally when I probably shouldn't." He glanced over at the destroyed radio before leveling his gaze to meet hers. "But thanks anyway. And I'm sorry about your father and the whole mess you're probably in right now."

April's shoulders lifted in a halfhearted shrug. "I feel a bit better now, at least. Thanks for coming out here and doing this for me. I know you were busy."

A quick study of her expression showed nothing but sincerity. "It was nothin'."

Glancing around, she picked her way through a nearby pile of items and returned with what appeared to be a newer looking pipe and the broken off handle of a rake. She extended the latter to him. "I'm not ready to leave yet. Up for a game? First one to break 30 doesn't have to pay for ice cream on the way home?"

He grinned at the challenge, fingers closing around his impromptu bat. "You're on."

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tags: @shellaxdude

#tmntgust 2025 #tmnt 03 #raph & april

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