#*michelangelo comes back to haunt me* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

taizi · 1 year

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give me something that’ll haunt me when you’re not around

chapter ten: standing here hoping it gets to you

rise of the tmnt pairing: leoichi (leonardo / usagi yuichi) word count: 3k title borrowed from message in a bottle by t swift post-movie

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Free-climbing up the side of a high rise in downtown Manhattan might be considered an extreme sport in most other circles, but Yuichi doesn’t know anything about those circles. They sound boring.

It’s drizzling a little, and the next window ledge he reaches for is slicker than he’s expecting. The second his grip slips, a huge green hand shoots out and catches him by the wrist.

“Thanks, Raphael,” he says when he’s found a better foothold. His heart skipped with the close call, but otherwise he isn’t fazed.

“You’re gonna have to break and call Raph by a nickname sooner or later,” the eldest turtle says, playfully stern.

Yuichi busily looks down at his hands as he climbs, flustered. It makes Michelangelo laugh, ringing and bright.

“I can’t believe we used to think you were scary,” the spotted turtle says. He’s perched on Raphael’s shell like gravity is a neat concept in theory but not one he’s particularly interested in.

“Come oooon,” Leonardo’s voice calls down from the roof. “¡Vamos hermanos! Hey Cottontail, I thought rabbits were supposed to be fast!”

“Hey Stripes, I thought turtles were supposed to be quiet,” Yuichi calls back without missing a beat.

There’s an immediate chorus of “oooh”s at the burn, and Leonardo makes offended squawking noises, and Yuichi is smiling when he finally pulls himself over the parapet onto the flat rooftop.

The view from here is breathtaking. NYC at night is unlike anything else Yuichi has ever seen. The blinding lights and the rumble of traffic and the kinetic energy of millions of humans going about their night.

It’s absolutely bursting with life, and they’re sitting above it all, a part of it and apart from it.

Yuichi’s muscles are pleasantly sore from the workout and he stretches out to cool down and get his breathing back. A nudge at his side makes him glance to the left to find a mechanical arm offering him a water bottle. Donatello doesn’t acknowledge his thanks, but he also gives Yuichi an energy bar.

It’s one thing to know that the Hamato siblings are ninja in theory, and it’s another thing entirely to see it in practice. None of them have broken a sweat, not even Casey.

“Do you guys do this a lot?” Yuichi wonders aloud.

“We try to patrol once every week,” Raphael explains, then seems to catch himself. He glances at Leonardo and gets a thumbs up before he goes on, “Otherwise, Donnie has alerts set up for suspicious activity, and we go check it out if it’s our brand of weird.”

Leonardo’s family has an impressive number of adversaries, though none they really seem to take seriously. The ones they call “mutants” all have a grudging understanding with the turtles—from the tone of the stories they tell him, Yuichi secretly thinks it’s pretty likely that these grown-up yokai just don’t want to deal with a handful of teenagers any more than they have to. There’s a mantis that runs a junkyard they’re at constant odds with, but in the manner of a grumpy old man chasing annoying kids off his property. And apparently they got invitations from the hippo and the worm to save the date for their upcoming wedding.

There’s some dissension among the siblings about this, but if Yuichi is understanding the thread of the argument entirely, it’s not a matter of whether or not they’re going. It’s a matter of the gift registry, and why the hell they should subject themselves to Pottery Barn for those guys when Target is right there.

The ones that call themselves the Foot Clan are another story. They’re a hereditary enemy, and the ones responsible for the invasion in the first place. The turtles and Casey all have dark looks on their faces when the Foot comes up.

It’s nice to have people to blame for the shadow that passed over Leonardo’s light. Yuichi unwinds his yo-yo a few times, sparks flying off the reinforced string, and looks forward to meeting the Foot on the street sometime.

“I’m glad Cass got out of there,” Raphael is saying. “What’s she up to now?”

Casey answers dutifully, “She told me when we went to lunch yesterday but she swore me to secrecy. She said ‘if you know, you know.’”

“Goddammit, it’s world domination, I know it is.” Donatello puts his head in his hands, staring into the middle distance. “She beat me to it.”

“I’m good with that,” Michelangelo says blithely. “When she’s finally running the show, we can take a vacation. Tahiti, baby!”

Leonardo is sitting on the edge of the rooftop, legs dangling over the side, with what would would be considered reckless ease for anyone outside his family. Yuichi sits next to him, because he’s exactly the kind of reckless idiot who would risk a thirty-story fall just to sit next to a cute boy.

In the back of his mind, the absolutely certain knowledge that he’s completely safe with this cute boy—this insane, amazing family—thrums like gravity, constant and steady and unspoken. It doesn’t even occur to him to be afraid of falling.

It feels like this is where he belongs.

“You know,” Leonardo says suddenly, staring up at the stars he can’t see through all the light pollution, “I keep thinking of something the General said.”

The atmosphere changes immediately. Yuichi can feel the overwhelming, undivided attention of a small ninja clan sharpening into a point. Leonardo is freer with his words now than he was two months ago, but he still generally doesn’t offer information about the Krang unless he’s pressed.

Yuichi shifts his hand across the concrete, feeling the rasp of it through his fur, until it bumps Leonardo’s.

Leonardo still doesn’t look at any of them, but some small line of tension in his shoulders bleeds away.

“Oh yeah?” Donatello asks in a tone that anyone who didn’t know him might mistake for mild.

“Yeah. He said, uh. ‘Strength always prevails.’ He said a lot of stuff, but that’s what I keep thinking about for some reason.”

Michelangelo looks like the only thing stopping him from flinging his arms around his immediate older brother is the quelling hand Raphael has on his carapace. His amber eyes are big and wide but he manages to sound halfway normal when he nudges carefully, “How come, Leon?”

“‘Cause it’s funny, isn’t it?” Leonardo says, as if anything about that day could possibly be funny. But Yuichi is watching him closely, and only sees wry good humor in his face. “If strength always prevails, and he’s gone and I’m still here, I guess that means I’m stronger than him.”

No one speaks. It seems like everyone is holding their breath. Yuichi is the one who says, “Well, yeah, Leo.”

Leonardo grins. It’s a little shaky, but it finds its footing the longer it goes. He stands on the edge of the rooftop and throws his head back and faces the empty sky again.

The thought occurs to Yuichi, unbidden: Now I know why his brothers call him Fearless.

“I’m still here!” he screams. “I won! Fuck you! You’re gonna die alone and you’re never gonna hurt me again and I’m going to forget all about you!”

Casey laughs out loud, a harsh, relieved sound. Michelangelo slumps forward, hands pressed to his own plastron, but he’s beaming in a way that takes up half his face.

There are unselfconscious tears on Raphael’s face. Donatello’s staring at his twin’s back with vicious satisfaction, golden eyes glowing in the low light.

Someone lounging on a fire escape a few stories down, indistinguishable in the dark, lifts their beer and shouts back, “Yeah, fuck him! You’re better off, babe!”

Leonardo stumbles backwards off the parapet, laughing so hard he can’t stand upright. Yuichi reaches out to catch him, and finds himself caught up instead as this ragtag, war-torn little clan clings to each other and dissolves into hysterics together. The kind that starts from the bottom of your stomach and works its way up, scrubbing you clean. The healing kind.

Afterwards, it feels like a party. They want to celebrate this nameless thing shaped like recovery. So they go to Run of the Mill.

They’re a rowdy crowd clustered around the hostess stand, just by virtue of their personalities. There’s a table opening up in the back of the dining room big enough for all six of them.

From behind the bar, Qiao gives Yuichi a very knowing look—seeing the group he’s lumped with and Leonardo’s arm draped comfortably around his shoulders—and he has to fight not to hide behind his ears at their smug scrutiny.

Sunita and April are here already, sharing a basket of garlic knots, and they both smile warmly when they see who just walked in. Kitsune and Gen are at a booth in the corner, wearing the world’s worst attempt at disguises and peeking at the foyer over their menus.

Señor Hueso is the one who seats them, looking annoyed by all the noise but making absolutely no move to subdue them.

He lays a hand on Leonardo’s shoulder, his sunken eyes soft with fondness if you know what to look for. The skeleton yokai says something in Spanish that Yuichi has no hopes of translating. Leonardo’s cheeks darken and he responds in kind, his tone rapid-fire and flustered. Señor Hueso confirms whatever he said with a perfunctory nod and then gathers a handful of menus and leads the Hamatos toward their table, leaving his honorary nephew sputtering behind him.

(“Podrías haberlo hecho peor.”

“Espera, ¿él o yo?”

“Sí.”)

Leonardo catches Yuichi by the sleeve before he can follow. He looks agitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot, and blurts, “Can you hang back? For a sec?”

Yuichi blinks and turns to face him. This doesn’t do wonders for Leonardo’s nerves, for some reason. The striped turtle glances anywhere but at him, and then finally darts a desperate look at Casey.

Across the room, the human lifts both his hands and gives him a double thumbs up.

“Okay,” Leonardo says. “Okay,” he says again, finally daring to look at Yuichi again. That only lasts about two seconds.

“Hey,” Yuichi interjects, tilting his head to the side. Concern is a little wriggling fish in the back of his mind, but he refuses to give it room to swim unless there’s real reason. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

He puts out his hands, an offer. He doesn’t know if it helps or not, because Leonardo snatches them up quickly, but he only looks more miserable by the second, in a vaguely seasick kind of way.

“Are you—” His cheeks darken. He’s still studying the polished tile beneath his feet like it’s the most interesting thing for miles. “I mean—if you’re free, whenever—would you—”

Yuichi sees the moment this cobbled-together courage starts to fail him. Give Leonardo a grenade to fall on and he’ll do it in a heartbeat. He’ll hold the line at the end of the world, he thrives in the eleventh hour. But an honest conversation? Way more terrifying than any of those things.

That’s okay. Maybe Yuichi can be Fearless this time.

And he wants this to be what he wants it to be. He’s willing to risk looking like an idiot if he’s wrong.

It wouldn’t be the worst thing, really. Leonardo is his friend. There’s real love between them already, no matter what shape it may take in the future, no matter if the edges of Leonardo’s feelings don’t quite match up to Yuichi’s.

It’s like sitting on the edge of that rooftop, feet dangling over cars that looked like toys in the street. He won’t fall. Leonardo would never let him fall.

“Yes,” Yuichi says, calling on all the bravery that belongs to his name, every inch of the samurai spirit he inherited from Miyamoto himself. “I am. I would.”

Leonardo’s head snaps up, eyes like headlights. “What? Really?” The sweet expression on his face falters before it even has a chance to settle. “Wait, are we talking about the same thing?”

This idiot. Yuichi loves this idiot.

He squeezes Leonardo’s hands, a mirror of what his heart is doing. He tugs the turtle in a step closer, so there’s hardly any space left between them except for the space they need to breathe, the slim margin left open to keep holding hands.

Leonardo is staring at him, and Yuichi recognizes the look on his face. It’s the way Leonardo has always looked at him, since that first golden afternoon at Run of the Mill, but Yuichi didn’t know him well enough to read him back then. Not the way he knows him now.

And now he sees warmth in those eyes. Admiration. And powerful, precious hope.

That hope outlasted the apocalypse. It’s outlived every night terror and panic attack and strangling episode of self-doubt since. Yuichi wishes, absurdly, that he could pick it up and hold it close and carry it safely the rest of the way through the world.

He’ll have to settle for meeting Leonardo’s gaze squarely and telling him, in no uncertain terms, “I’m talking about going out with you. What are you talking about?”

“Samesies,” Leonardo breathes, and then closes his eyes, like he’s just pained himself beyond recovery. It’s ridiculous. He’s adorable. “I mean. Yes. That’s what I—that’s what—please make me stop talking.”

Finally. Yuichi leans in to do exactly that.

There’s immediate uproar from elsewhere in the room, because of course there is. Leonardo’s siblings and Yuichi’s friends waste absolutely no time making complete nuisances of themselves, hooting and catcalling and shushing each other in turns.

But the only thing that matters is Leonardo kissing him back.

It’s brief. It’s clumsy, a little self-conscious. Neither of them know what they’re doing, they’re both really nervous. It’s better than Yuichi ever could have imagined.

“Took you long enough,” Yuichi whispers. He feels light as a feather, like the slightest shift in the weather might blow him clear away. “That’s what I get for waiting on a turtle.”

Leonardo scoffs, breathless and flustered. He’s flushed all over by now, and when he rolls his eyes it’s clearly just an excuse to let his eyes dart away. Then he spots something that makes him groan.

“Oh god. Look.”

Yuichi follows his gaze to his siblings’ table, where they’re clearly straining to listen in on this conversation. Sunita and April have abandoned their bread basket to attach themselves to the ninja huddle. When Leonardo gives them away, only Raphael, Casey and the girls have the decency to bury their faces in a menu and pretend otherwise. Michelangelo and Donatello are outright staring.

“Ugh, they’re the worst,” Leonardo says. “I literally can’t imagine life without them.”

“I get that,” Yuichi replies honestly. As they watch, Gen and Kitsune slink across the dining room to join the Hamato clan, and they all begin having what looks like a very animated, very involved conversation, occasionally gesturing in Yuichi and Leonardo’s direction. That can't be good.

Sometimes retreat is the better part of valor.

“Hey,” Yuichi says, lowering his voice into a conspiratorial whisper, “you wanna get out of here?”

The cheesy line is rewarded in a heartbeat by Leonardo’s blinding smile. He clusters in a little until their foreheads bump. He loves a scheme, he loves to be in on it. They’re back on solid ground together.

“Let’s do it. Where do you wanna go? Anywhere in the whole world.”

There’s something very earnest in the question, behind the chaos gremlin energy, the giddy good humor. He’s vulnerable, laying himself out for Yuichi to see plainly.

His ninpo is such an intrinsic part of himself, the thing that houses his soul, and he’s saying, Use it. I’ll let you use it.

It’s not a hard choice. Given his pick of any destination in the world, Yuichi has his mind made up in about five seconds. He doesn’t even really have to think about it.

“I kind of want to go to Hungry Burrito and try those carne asada fries you never shut up about,” he admits.

It’s the right thing to say. Leonardo tips his head back and laughs, and it sounds exactly like the very first time Yuichi ever heard it. Before the invasion, before the months-long recovery, before the monster that tried to ruin him and every good thing about him. Back when it had no reason not to be the loudest, brightest thing in the whole room.

Spirits. God. Yuichi isn’t ever letting this boy go.

The turtle reaches over his shoulder for a sword. The spinning blue portal opens right there in the dining room, and one of Leonardo’s brothers squawks in alarm, and there’s a ruckus of upset dishes and screeching chairs behind them, but Yuichi and Leonardo are faster.

They make their escape hand in hand. The whole thing feels equal parts silly and daring. The whole night feels that way.

They put their phones on airplane mode and eat spicy loaded fries on a fire escape in Queens and sit close enough that their knees and elbows bump every other time they move. They race each other over the rain-slick rooftops and wipe out a couple of times each and almost lose their voices in the cool night air from laughing too much.

As far as first dates go, Yuichi has no notes. He wouldn’t change a thing.

It’s time to head back when Leonardo’s eyes glow white between one blink and the next, and he sighs, like someone who just got a disappointing text.

“Curfew,” he says. “Let me take you home.”

“Are you going to survive your brothers tonight?” Yuichi asks fondly.

“God, I don’t know. Pray for me.”

In the blue light of the portal, when Yuichi is standing in the middle of his bedroom, Leonardo leans through after him to press a quick, shy kiss to his cheek. Then he flails a haphazard wave and disappears.

Ugh. Ugh. Yuichi can’t with this guy.

He collapses into bed, dizzy and breathless. He’s smiling so hard he’s half-afraid it might leave a permanent impression on his face. He feels drunk. He feels perfect.

He’ll have a lot of shit to answer for when his friends inevitably show up at his house tomorrow, furious at the missed chance to embarrass him in front of his brand-new boyfriend (!!). They’ll definitely rat him out to Auntie, and the cousins will eavesdrop like the monsters they are and never give Yuichi or Leonardo a moment’s peace for being gross and in love, but that’s entirely future-Yuichi’s problem.

If he’s very lucky, it’ll be a rest-of-his-life problem.

The last thing Yuichi does before he falls asleep is reach for his phone.

Usagi: Let’s do all of it again tomorrow.

The reply rolls in immediately, every bit as if a certain someone was waiting with their phone in their hands.

Leo💙: it’s a date!!!!!

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #leoichi #leosagi #usagi yuichi #hamato leonardo #my writing #tmnt fic #these bright blue city lights #aaaaaa im so sad this is over !! ive really had a lot of fun writing it !!

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mad4turtles · 11 months

Note

Would LOVE to know if the reason Casey Jr looks “haunted” in that second final line of your most recent Rise one-shot (part 18, if you happen to add another before seeing this!) is if, despite different circumstances and timing and just about everything, Future Donnie did the exact same thing to the exact same bull yokai.

A beloved universal constant.

.... ummmmmm... HOLY CRAP. So, this turned into a 9-page THESIS.

I cannot tell you how INSPIRED i was by this, holy stinking super crap! This hit me like a bus, and I thank you so much for gifting me with this opportunity!

Enjoy some more Donnie being a bamf!

---

A Beloved Universal Constant

“—but you won't listen to reason, you stubborn fool!”

The yelling wakes Casey up with a gasp. Master Donatello hasn't had time to soundproof certain sections in their newest base, and right now, Casey can hear General Bostarus' booming voice down the hall from the children's sleeping quarters.

He's not the only one roused by the noise, his friends rubbing their eyes or whimpering in fright. But he's the only one to get up and investigate. If not out of pure curiosity (Auntie April tells him it'll get him in trouble one day), then because he can hear Uncle Leo shouting, too.

(It's been like this for a while. Ever since they'd had to flee from the last base over a month ago. Casey remembers it well. He sees it every time he shuts his eyes.

He remembers the screeching alarms, people shouting and screaming that the Krang were coming. He remembers lights flickering as the Krang drilled through earth and steel, trying to dig them up or bury them alive. He remembers his mother gathering their meagre possessions, scooping him into her arms before running like a bat out of hell with the rest of the colony through the evacuation route.

He remembers the walls caving in and more screaming as the lights went out. He remembers clinging to his mother's shirt as he wailed, terrified that the boogeyman from his nightmares was right above them, screeching and hungry.

He remembers a flash of vibrant red, a behemoth in the shape of a spiky turtle filling up the space, holding up the rubble with glowing hands and shouting, “GO!”

He remembers his mother staring wide-eyed at the glowing turtle before setting her jaw, nuzzling him, kissing his hair and whispering their family's mantra in his ear, whispering “I love you”, before passing him and her mask off to Master Leonardo. He remembers watching her and a handful of others following her back into the glowing red tunnel with a warrior cry, weapons raised high. He remembers Master Leonardo screaming at her and the red giant to come back, you assholes, don't do this to me, don't do this, YOU CAN'T LEAVE US, RAPH—!

He remembers the red giant's smile, brighter than his body and warmer than any campfire, right before the Krang broke through and closed the cave off.

That was the last time Casey ever saw Uncle Raphael or his Mom.

Everything's felt off since then. People are tense, afraid, sad or constantly arguing over things Casey doesn't understand. One of the Yokai Generals, a giant bull named Bostarus, keeps bothering Casey's uncles to the point where even Master Michelangelo, the most peaceable of the turtles, looks ready to throttle him. Again, Casey doesn't understand why, but apparently, it's come to a head now.

The yelling gets louder as Casey draws closer to the makeshift war room. He's still a ninja novice, but he's proud of himself when no one hears or sees him sneaking out and peering around the corner. Then again, it could be because everyone's shouting so they can't hear him, but still. It's a win!

It feels less like a win when he sees the General, big and buff, littered with scars and a heart-shaped tattoo on his neck, throwing his massive horns about with rage and towering over his stone-faced Uncle Leo. Uncle Donatello, as usual, stands right beside him. He looks bored, but his hands folded behind his shell clench hard enough that the knuckles are white. Master Michelangelo and Auntie April hover behind, looking ready to strangle the bull with mystic chains or beat him to a pulp. The room split nearly in half on each side like they were gearing up to fight.

This baffles Casey because the enemy should be the Krang. Not each other.

“I don't want to speak for everyone,” Uncle Leo says with forced calm, “but I'm pretty sure everything you've just said is not only outrageous, insane and impractical but so incredibly racist that I'm surprised you've lasted his long as a General without being shanked like a Caesar salad dressing.”

Casey has no idea what that means, but it makes a few in the room chuckle. Even Uncle Donatello cracks a grin.

Bostarus snorts. “I've lasted this long because my people are strong. Our forces rallied, ready to defend and fight the day the Krang came to our world while the humans ran about like headless chickens, screaming and crying for their 'leaders' to save them! Even now, they continue to deplete our resources like rodents, unable to survive the way we yokai have been forced to for centuries because of them—”

Uncle Leonardo steps forward with a violent hiss that sends shivers down Casey's spine. “Half of our forces, if not more, are made up of humans,” he seethes. “We have refugees seeking sanctuary here, families, children, and trained combatants fighting and dying for our cause, our planet, just like the yokai. And you're suggesting we turn them away? Because of an old grudge that shouldn't matter in the face of an alien invasion? I must ask, General, if you're under the influence of hallucinogenics for even suggesting something so disgusting.”

“I beg your pardon, boy?”

“I'm asking you if you are high, you absolute douche-canoe,” Uncle Leo spits. Casey fights a giggle. “And I may be whole decades younger, but I'm still the leader of the Resistance. I earned my stripes and fought to be here just like you. You're in my house now, asshole. Show some respect.”

Wow, Casey thinks. He's so cool. Even when he's mad.

Bostaurus snorts hard enough to send Uncle Leo's mask tails fluttering. The turtle doesn't flinch, not even when the bull stomps the distance between them and gets right in his face, Casey's Uncle stands straight and tall like a mountain, infallible, immovable.

Then Bostarus grins wide and nasty and says, “Why should I respect a cowardly fool who lets his brother die for his mistakes?”

The room goes cold. No one breathes. Casey shakes.

Uncle Donatello's jaw clenches hard enough that veins bludge in his neck. And Uncle Leo—he goes white. His face goes slack with horror, and he takes a step back—

Auntie April and Master Michelangelo start shouting, throwing nasty words that Casey's never even heard of. The room goes ballistic, tables and chairs screeching as people get up in arms.

Bostarus stands back with folded arms, looking smug, and Casey wants to hit him.

“What's wrong, turtle?” he taunts. “Nothing to say? Too afraid to admit that your failure cost you your—?”

“Enough.”

The room falls deathly quiet. Casey flinches. He's never heard Uncle Donatello's voice sound like that before. It's dark and cold. And when he lifts his head to meet Bostarus' eyes, his eyes are even darker behind the flash of mystic purple swirling in golden irises.

But Bostarus doesn't seem to notice or care. Instead, he huffs again. “Oh, what? Is the hermit scientist going to tell me I'm wrong—?”

“Yes, I am.” Donatello steps right up to the bull so they're toe to hoof. Uncle Donnie is as tall and taut with muscle as his twin brother, but he's lean where Leo is broad, organised chaos with streamlined tech all over his body where Leo is worn and ravaged from battle and time spent on the wastelands of the surface. To those who don't know them well, the elder twin cuts a slightly less intimidating figure than his leader.

Casey watches him now and wonders how anyone could think that.

“Everything that has come out of that crevice you call a mouth has been wrong,” the softshell continues in a bored drawl. His clenched fists are white-knuckled. “It was wholly biased and downright hateful to the point that I wonder how you rose to your station in the first place. Certainly not due to your skills and intuition as a figure of authority, or lack thereof. And if you continue to run said mouth, I assure you, you will not enjoy the consequences. So do yourself and all of us a favour and shut it.”

“Stand down, Donatello,” Uncle Leonardo says, but he sounds tired, reaching for his twin's hand and gently pulling. “Just drop it. It's not worth—”

Uncle Donnie whips his head around to glare at Uncle Leo, golden eyes hot with fury. Uncle Leo, and everyone behind him, flinch. Even Commander O'Neil looks pale.

Again, Bostarus doesn't get the message and chuckles. “Better listen to your 'leader', hermit. Probably the smartest thing he's ever—”

Casey sees the second Uncle Donatello snaps.

Between one breath and the next, Uncle Donnie picks up the table—the long metal one that had taken seven human men to haul inside—and slams it at Bostarus' face.

“Shit—!” Auntie April yelps, jumping back as the bull flies to the back wall, nose and forehead dripping with blood. Master Michelangelo squeaks, leaping into the air and staying there.

Uncle Leo's eyes are huge. “Donnie, what the fu—?!”

Uncle Donnie stomps over to the slumped bull, yanking a metal chair as he goes. He stands over Bostarus right as he's remembering who he is, raising the chair over his head. The yokai's eyes go wide.“Wait—!”

Uncle Donnie slams the chair down over Bostarus' face hard enough that Casey can feel his bones rattling. He brings it down again on his shoulder, on his kneecap, his arm, again and again and again, ignoring the shouts and cries for him to stop goddammit what the hell are you doing—!

Casey can't see his Uncle's face from here, but if even Bostarus is quaking and begging, he thinks he's better off not knowing.

“Donatello, enough!”

It takes Uncle Leo yanking him away by the rim of his battle shell to get Uncle Donnie to stop, ripping the bloodstained chair from his trembling hands. Even then, he has to physically hold him back as he hisses bloody murder at Bostarus. “Enough, stop, Donnie, stop! You'll freaking kill him—!”

“Give me one goddamn reason why I shouldn't.”

“Because murder?!”

Bostarus is helped to his feet, shaking, bloody and unsteady, by his men. His left eye is swollen shut, and his right horn bends at an odd angle. “What—” he coughs, and Casey swears he sees a tooth go flying, “What—in spirits name are you doing, boy? You—you have any idea who you're—”

Uncle Donnie shrugs off Leo's hands and stalks towards the wounded Yokai, who goes very, very still. Now Casey can see his Uncle's eyes blazing like embers, and yeah, it's terrifying.

“You seem to be grossly misinformed,” he says lowly, but his voice carries in the silence, “so allow me to do what was once typical of my generation and educate you.”

He holds up a finger. “Number one: I don't give two shits about who you are. You are not my leader, you are a wannabe General from an allied colony. I don't answer to you. Number two—” another finger—“Leonardo made a mistake. He didn't know what was at stake until it was too late. None of us did. And yet he's here, leading the only Resistance faction left in America, fighting side by side with humans, mutants and yokai for our planet. You have no right to belittle and humiliate him when he's doing more for our cause than you ever will with your small-minded, ignorant beliefs that will absolutely get you killed.

“And Number three,” he holds up his last finger and leans in close. Bostarus doesn't move. “If you ever come at my brother like that again, I will make a Krang labour camp look like a godsend. You will wake up every day begging for death, and when I finally grant your wish, no one will miss you when you're gone. Are we clear, General?”

Casey watches as General Bostarus, one of their strongest fighters, known for his ferocity against the Krang forces over the last ten years, cowers under Uncle Donatello's glare and nods.

Casey beams. “Holy shit.”

Every head whirls to the doorway. Donnie's murderous scowl drops in favour of comically wide eyes when he sees Casey peering around the corner. Mom used to call it his 'Oh Shit, a Child' face.

Uncle Leo recovers first, shaking his head and turning to Bostarus' pitiful form. “This meeting is over. Anything else you need to say can wait until some of your teeth grow back. Or just send a strongly worded email, I don't care. Go get yourself cleaned up.”

Bostarus looks like he wants to say something. Uncle Donnie looks at him, a spark of mystic purple in his eyes. The bull shuts up, letting himself be led out of the room and down the hall, limping with every step.

Uncle Leo lets out a long, heavy sigh, rubbing his face with one hand. Behind him, people set upon fixing the room, setting chairs upright and trying to lift the table to no avail. “Christ on a bicycle, I hate that guy,” he mutters. Then he turns to Casey, now out of hiding, pulling on the 'disappointed Sensei' face he wears whenever Casey does something stupid, marching closer and folding his arms. “As for you, Casey Jones, what are you doing out of bed?”

Casey tugs at the hem of his shirt and shrugs. “Heard you yelling, 'n it woke me up.”

Instantly, Uncle Leo's stern frown drops into a grimace. “Eugh boy. That loud, huh? We really need to soundproof these rooms.” He leans down and scoops Casey up. Casey squeaks, latching onto his Uncle's shoulders for balance; Uncle Leo's face melts into a smile as he boops their noses together. “And where did you hear that kind of talk, eh? Certainly not from your incredibly responsible, awesome, handsome Uncle Leo, right?”

Despite everything, Uncle Leo can still make Casey laugh with a smirk and a stupid joke. “Nah, Uncle Mike said it 'n told me not to say it, 'n not to tell you he said it.”

His uncles and aunt all glare at a floating, very meek Master Michelangelo. “Dude!” he cries. “Snitch!”

Casey giggles again. “Sorry! Oh oh, Uncle Donnie!

“Casey Jones,” Uncle Donnie replies, typing away on his vambrace, apparently done with this whole situation but not enough to ignore Casey.

“Can you teach me how to throw a table like that?”

Uncle Donnie freezes. “Uh—”

“That was—uh, sick! Yeah, sick! You got Mister Bostarus good! Just like you wanted to!”

Uncle Leo raises an eye ridge. “Oh?” he says, craning his neck to look at Uncle Donnie, who starts to sweat. He doesn't look scary now. He just looks scared as Uncle Leo grins wide. “Is that right?”

“Casey Jones Jr,” Uncle Donnie hisses—not unkind, just desperate—“I swear to the god that forsook us you will be eating rocks for breakfast for a year!”

Casey is six years old. He is the son of Cassandra Jones and a beloved nephew to three mutant turtles and their human sister. His sensei (and godfather—or just father in every way that matters) is one Hamato Leonardo, who is what many call a 'Little Shit'.

Therefore, Casey Jones Jr is also a Little Shit.

“Uncle Donnie used to call him a—uh—a bullshitting bitchless bitch, and the only way he'd ever get laid is—is to rest. I think that's what he said. I don't know what it means.”

Leo's jaw drops. There's a loud bark of laughter from the back, which starts a chain of hysterical laughter that fills the room. It's far louder than the yelling and screaming prior, and it rings in Casey's ears. But Uncle Leo is smiling and laughing so hard his wrinkles seem to fade. Auntie April and Uncle Mikey kick their feet wildly on the floor, and Uncle Donnie hides his red face behind his hands.

It's all so delightful, so Casey counts it as a win.

Then he taps Uncle Leo's shoulder, waiting for the slider to stop laughing long enough to lean in as Casey whispers, “You were cool, Sensei. So was Uncle Donnie! He's the best!”

And Uncle Leo's face does—something as he turns to look at the softshell. Uncle Mikey hangs off him, needling him about his horrible influence while grinning like a loon. April hip-checks him hard enough that he nearly falls over. He scowls and yells something unheard over the persisting laughter, but then he meets Leo's gaze, and his expression softens. His snout twists into a small but real smile, one Casey knows is reserved only for them.

And Uncle Leo's eyes shine as he smiles back. “Yeah,” he says, nosing Casey's hair. “Yeah. He is.”

~0o0~

As the years pass, Casey grows and moves with the tides of the Resistance. General Bostarus and his group eventually leave the Liberty Island colony to rebuild their own. He dies in battle weeks later, he and his men picked off one by one in a violent ambush that left no survivors.

Donatello dies before Casey's fourteenth birthday. A part of Master Leonardo dies with him.

Casey doesn't remember much of his early childhood. After Donatello's death, many try not to cling too tight to the little things or the past. Look toward the future and hold onto hope.

It broke his heart when he found out one day that he barely remembered his Mom or Uncle Raph. He couldn't recall how they sounded, smelled or felt like. But he never forgot that final smile before the earth caved in. He'll never forget Mom's words—

"Anata wa hitori janai.”

You are not alone.

He lived by that. They all did. It was their war cry to the demons that sought to end them and everything they knew for no reason beyond the need to conquer and destroy. It was their shield beside their greatest weapon.

Casey never forgot that. Even after leaving his destroyed world and saving the new one, he holds that memory, and many others of his old family, close to his heart.

Then one day, many years in the past, a world saved and a family unbroken, Raphael asks—

“So, how'd it go at Hueso's?”

“Donnie pulled a John Cena and made a bull yokai his bitch with a chair.”

Casey coughs up his cherry Dr Pepper.

No way. There's no freaking way.

Amid the spluttering and laughter, Casey reaches over to tap Leo's shoulder. “Wait, wait—a bull yokai? What did he look like?”

Leo swallows a mouthful of pizza before speaking. “Kinda like Bullhop—you've met him, right?—only like twice as big, nose ring, kinda blue-ish fur, some bigass horns and, uhh... I think he had a tattoo on his neck?”

A tattoo. “Was it a bull inside a love heart with 'Mom' written under it in cursive?”

Leo pauses. “Yeaahhh,” he says slowly. “Do you know him?”

Casey nods, and he can't stop the grin that splits his face. “Yeah! In the future, he was one of the leaders of a smaller Yokai colony from the BogWater region—that used to be New Jersey before it flooded with toxic Krang refuse from the ships.”

“Wow,” Mikey whistles. “Even in the future they can't catch a break.”

April snickers. “And that bull guy Donnie John Cena'd was a war general?”

“Yeah! And he and Master Leonardo were like worst enemies! You guys hated each other!”

That quiets the room instantly. The smiles fall, and dread taints the air. Casey winces. Maybe he could've worded that better.

“Oh god,” Donnie drops his head into his hands, “Did I set the wheels of another apocalypse into motion?”

“No, no, nonono, not at all!” Casey stammers, waving his hands. “We're perfectly safe, I promise!”

There's a collective sigh as everyone relaxes.

“Spirits, child,” Draxum says with feeling. “Be mindful of your words.”

Casey scratches the back of his head meekly. “Sorry, sorry. But there isn't anything to worry about. Despite his size and strength, General Bostarus was mostly all talk off the battlefield. Master Donatello used to tell me that he was a—what was it? A 'bullshitting bitchless bitch, and the only way he'll ever get laid is to rest? I never got that, but—”

Aaannd Raph has soda coming out of his nose. Draxum chokes on air. Mikey, April and Cassandra start shrieking. Splinter rolls under his chair, cackling. Donnie looks ecstatic.

“Jeezy heckin' creezy—Donnie!” Leo manages through his wheezing laughter, tears running down his face. “A bitchless—heeheehee—laid to rest, I can't—god—!”

“Good to know my creative insults were still the toppest of notches even at the end of the world,” Donnie preens, examining his nails as Leo clings to him for balance. Donnie lets him and turns back to Casey. “Sidebar, how did you know it was the same bull yokai based on what Leo said?”

Casey grins like a shark.

Donnie stiffens. Leo stops laughing, and everyone sits up.

“No.”

Casey nods. “Yes.”

Leo's jaw drops. “No way.”

“Yes way.”

Donnie throws up his arms, nearly smacking Leo in the face. “Freaking how?!”

Casey giggles. “It was kinda epic. One of my favourite memories from my childhood. Wanna hear it?”

“Um, is water freaking wet?” Leo bounces in place, beaming like a loon and clinging tight to a tolerant Donnie. “Yes.”

Casey takes up the seiza position, hands on his lap as he clears his throat. “Very well,” he says, adopting the tone Donatello would use whenever he sat down to tell them stories of the Before Times; enthralling, dramatic and everything that made him the Uncle Donnie he misses fiercely. “Gather 'round.”

Everyone shuffles in their seats and leans in. Splinter scurries from under his chair and settles beside Mikey, who automatically wraps his arms around his Papa to lean against him. Only then does Casey begin.

“Let us set the scene. It was the year of our lord 2038—“ A few snickers float, and Casey lets himself grin. He's hamming it up, but he can't help it. It's one of his favourites.

“The Resistance is still going strong, despite the Krang's efforts to snuff us out. War parties and colonies travel from all over the world in search of sanctuary. One in particular, led by General Bostarus of the BogWater region, found refuge with the Liberty Island colony the year before, and things were going well. Until a Krang pack discovered us, leading to the loss of our headquarters. After establishing a new base, things became tense within the higher rankings. And General Bostarus had a lot to say to the younger Resistance leader, Master Leonardo...”

(He leaves out the part where Raph and Cass had stayed behind to fend them off. They were hailed as heroes for their sacrifice. But what's a hero to the broken hearts of the family left behind?

He also leaves out Bostarus' snide remarks. He'd seen the lingering shadows in Leo's eyes and thought history's repeated itself enough in that regard.)

By the end, Leo and Donnie are all but leaning on each other, arms linked, Leo's bad leg draped over Donnie's lap, a look on their faces Casey can't quite name. The others range from proud to once again laughing themselves silly.

“Damn,” April hoots, wiping a tear from her eye with a finger. “Disaster Twins gonna disaster no matter what time branch, huh?”

“Bet,” Raph chuckles. “It's a—what's it called—a universal congress?”

“A universal constant,” Donnie corrects shortly, rolling his eyes and leaning fully against Leo like it's nothing for his usual aversions, tugging the slider closer.

And Casey is there to witness another impossible repeat as Leo leans his head against Donnie's shoulder, wearing that same look on his face that's softer and warmer than any flamboyant mask he wears. And Donnie looks back, his snout twisting in a smile—it's bigger than what Casey remembers from his past, younger and freer without the burden of trying to save a dying world. But the love is as real and intense as it had been there, near the end of it all, as it is here where they won.

Casey's eyes burn. He smiles.

Leo notices Casey's stare. He smiles back.

Then he asks, “So, did future Donbon ever teach you how to yeet big, heavy shit at people?”

Casey barks a watery laugh. “Yeah, he did. Wanna see?”

“Don't ask stupid questions, Jr.”

“Cool. Hey, Raph, can you come here for a sec? I wanna yeet you like a table.”

“You wanna what me like a what?!”

(And while Casey proceeds to, in fact, yeet a screaming Raphael like a table, Donnie and Leo stay cuddled close on the couch, hands linked.

Casey spares them one last look over his shoulder at the impossible, beloved universal constant and calls it a universal win.)

---

Reblogs are appreciated! Feel free to send more prompts <3

#rottmnt #rottmnt fic #my writing #disaster twins #future disaster twins #rottmnt movie #THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE #this is so LONG #but i regret nothing XD

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saga-project · 5 months

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"And why are you wearing GENIUS BUILT apparel because that is TRADEMARKED--"

Saga paused as this.....child? Child. Looked at him like he'd seen a ghost, all pale and wide-eyed. He had been trying to go in for a frustrated grab on this Casey Junior, but---

He didn't like the looks of that haunted gaze.

"I'm from the future, and before you say anything, I need you to believe me. Humanity, you guys, everything could depend on it--"

"I....I got a journal. A few weeks back." Saga swallowed heavily, feeling a lump rise in their throat. "Is that what this is about?"

"Yes. But also no. First we have to stop the Krang. Master Michelangelo gave me a mission--"

"I'm a MASTER????" Saga winced as Mikey nearly blew out his eardrums next to him, shoving him away gently but firmly.

"Mikey, please focus--"

"--to find the key and stop the Krang."

"Rrrrrright. Aliens. This story keeps getting better and better."

"He's telling the truth." Saga swallowed as all eyes on the room panned towards him, shaking off the sudden bout of anxiety that threatened to rise within him. "That journal that I've been studying, it comes from a bad timeline. I.....it talks about the Krang. They're alien invaders from another world. Vicious. Conquering." Okay, sure, that wasn't the entire truth, but what his brothers didn't know couldn't hurt them, right? "That key that we found releases them--"

"Oh, great! You found it already? That makes my job so much easier! Now we just have to destroy it before the Foot gets it and uses it--"

An awkward beat.

"....uhhhhh did future Mikey tell you what to do in case that already happened? 'Cause that uhhhhh kindaalreadyhappened."

"LEO."

"What? I can't say it didn't already happen!"

"I was trying to break the news to him gently--"

"....then. Then we're too late....." How the hell was this child so good at looking like a literal kicked puppy. It was making it extremely hard for Saga to keep up their righteous anger over the situation.

"No, we're not. 'Cause we know who has the Key: the Foot Clan. Okay, team, we gotta find them before they use it."

".....yeah, hard agree, big man. Alright, Autobots, let's roll out."

Saga had to fight to not let out an irritated hiss in that moment, as they started heading towards the garage. This was so not the time to be making stupid jokes about the situation. Not when they were still wondering about the other aspect of that journal, and Casey's strangely haunted gaze whenever he glanced at them, and---

--why did they have the strangest feeling that they were forgetting something.

"Uh. Can someone untie me now?"

....oh. Right.

....this was going to be a long fucking night.

#rottmnt rp #sep!donnie #roleplay blog #(no replies please!)#krang arc

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dailytmntquotes · 8 months

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Zodi: Ask me again when i'm the only survivor of this mess. Michelangelo: So...when i'm dead? Like, you want me to come back and haunt you? That's a special kinda lonely, She-bro. -TMNT IDW Universe 4

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt quotes #tmnt idw #tmnt michelangelo

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boost3roo · 2 years

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Boostle ficlet for October month :) words given: treat or trick / haunted house.

Mikey and Ted go out for trick or treat. They aren't from around the area so things happen.

AO3.

“Are you for real, Michael Jon Carter?!” Ted was annoyed and pissed. How is that Michael could do this to him? He surely did it on purpose.

“What’s that? What are you wearing?”

“Told you, we were going to go as Michelangelo and Donatello, the ninja turtles, not– not the European history guys!” Ted almost screeched in desperation.

“... I don’t know what ninja turtles are.”

“Why didn't you ask me?!”

Michael shrugged. He was feeling like a scolded kid but looking at Ted, he thought he looked awesome. He didn’t know what ninja turtles were, but Ted definitely looked cool. “I guess since I didn’t understand two words I just ignored them, but you look really good!”

“I’m not going out like this.” Ted was embarrassed. It had taken him a while to get his costume ready, to make it of quality but now that Michael is looking all hot as an elegant European dude from the past, he is feeling a bit insecure.

Not to mention that Ted was already anxious about Michael’s idea of going out for Halloween. They were adults already, what would people say if they asked for candy? Probably throw water at them or something. He didn’t want to have a bad night.

“Come on, Teddy. It’s just for one night, you’re ready, I’m ready. Let’s go have fun!”

“They will think we are stealing candy from children.” He groaned, looking down at his clothes, still unsure of going out when they weren’t matching each other as they agreed to do. “What if we go to a party instead? I heard Tora and the others were going to one…”

After a long sigh, Michael nodded. “Alright… But after we get some candy.”

Ted was almost dragging his feet as he walked down the streets. He felt embarrassed even if Michael seemed to be having lots of fun. Just then it occurred to him that perhaps Michael had never done this before and that was why he was so persistent on going trick or treating.

And honestly, it wasn’t that bad. They had bought two plastic pumpkins to gather candy and people had been nice enough to give them that and even some drinks. Maybe Michael had been right on coming out for this tonight.

“Alright, the kids say to avoid the last block.” Michael said as he looked down at his phone, checking the map.

“You’re really going to take what a kid says seriously?”

“Kids. Many kids told me not to go there. Creepy things happen there.” Michael shivered, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Thought you were up for that? I mean, it’s Halloween. Besides, kids can get scared by many things. I remember when I was little I used to watch kids shows but some were creepy. Too creepy for me, and now that I grew up… It isn’t that bad.”

“If you’re the one knocking on doors this time, then yeah, sure. We can go.” Michael grinned, confident that Ted wouldn’t dare but given the good time they have been spending outside tonight, he actually felt confident enough to do it.

“Deal.”

The last block was kind of creepy and no kid would even go there. It was only the two of them walking down a deserted street. It was alright, Ted and Michael were adults, but they were surprised to see that not even teens were daring to check the last block.

It isn’t that bad , Ted thought. There wasn’t enough light to illuminate the whole block and he could notice that some houses, indeed, look creepy. Maybe it was the pass of time, rotting them, making them smaller, and tilting to the side. It could be that it looked like nobody lived around here, too.

“Maybe we should just go to the party now.” Michael said looking at the time. “I think I’ve gotten enough candy anyway.”

“Come on, Mikey. Are you scared by kids’ stories?”

“No, but now seeing how this looks– I don’t want to be here. I don’t mind a ghost here and there, but what if they kidnap us and take out our organs or something? No, thank you. I want all my organs where they are.”

“Nothing bad is going to happen, look, that house has light inside. Let’s go to that one, and then we can go to the party.”

“Just that one. If they don’t come out, we leave.”

“Sure, sure, buddy.”

Ted is the first one to walk into the porch, hearing how the old wood screeches under their weight. It all looks abandoned, as if nobody has been living here or ever getting out of the house. After he knocks on the door the thought of leaving crosses his mind.

He turns to look up at Michael, who looks back at him, but he isn’t really looking. He knows Michael and he’s more focused on their surroundings, the sounds that are going on inside the house.

“May–” before Ted could actually say something, they heard an old woman’s voice inside.

“Coming!”

The door is open after a few long moments, in front of them there’s a very old and fragile woman, covering her arms with a very thin shawl.

“Thomas?” She asks adjusting her thick glasses. “Daniel?”

“Oh, no, sorry for bothering you, ma’am. We are…” Ted sighed. “Michelangelo and Donatello. But I’m the turtle version.” He looks at Michael who is behind him and he only lifts his plastic pumpkin, shaking it gently to the woman inside.

“Trick or treat?” Michael says.

“OH!” The woman smiles at them and adjusts the shawl that was slowly sliding. “You look very handsome, both of you. I do have candy, just wait a bit…”

“Yeah, yeah. Both of us…” Ted mumbled and when she turned around and left in slow steps, Michael looked down at Ted and nudged him.

“Maybe we should go. I think we have enough.”

“What? We can’t do that, handsome !” Ted said and quickly hushed. “We can’t leave this old kind woman. She’s taking all this trouble to get the candy and you want to be gone by the time she’s back here?”

Ted was still frowning at Michael when they heard something crashing. Both jolt and turn to the inside of the house and while they both doubt about going inside, Ted decides to do it first.

“We're coming in–” He said as he rushed in. “Are you alright?”

Seconds later Michael appears behind him, both face the woman who’s glass bowl had accidentally fallen and broke, the candy spread through the floor. “Oh my! Silly me, didn’t hold the bowl tightly enough.”

“It’s fine, we'll help you clean. Where do you keep your broom?”

“No, this is my fault. I can’t have you cleaning this, the glass is sharp, you might cut yourself.”

“It’s alright! I’ll pick up the candy, Mikey can sweep the glass!”

“You’re both so sweet. I’m baking cookies, when you two are done, come to the kitchen, I’ll have them ready.” Without letting Ted or Michael say more, the woman left, leaving them to it.

“She didn’t tell you where the broom is.” Michael pointed out, but as he looked around, he could see the house was suspicious. Something wasn’t right.

“It's just an old woman living in… an old place. Nothing to worry about it.” Ted tried to make Michael feel better as he opened some doors, trying to find the broom.

He wasn’t going to deny it, the house looked neglected. It smelled like humidity and there was dust everywhere. If someone was actually living here, it wouldn’t be like this. Constant movement would at least, leave a trail of the most used places, but this was all covered in dust.

Ted wondered if he turned on all the lights there would be more evidence of how, in fact, this was a normal home.

“Oh, I found it.” He took the broom, but given that the gloves were too thick, he had to remove them and shove them in his plastic pumpkin, with the candy. Just then he noticed that even touching the broom would stain him with dust. Taking it off the closet he saw it had some spider webs attached.

“I’m taking all the candy for myself.” Michael said as he began to pick it up. It took him a few minutes to speak again. “Isn’t it strange that she had to go back to get the candy when today is Halloween?”

There was a shadow he saw from the corner of his eye, and when he looked up at the hall, there was nothing but darkness. He wondered how dark the shadow had to be so that his own brain noticed it… Or maybe it wasn’t a shadow and just… someone else moving there.

Maybe she wasn’t alone?

“What do you mean?” Ted asked before he’d look back to start sweeping. “Didn’t the kids say that nobody comes here? Why would she have to be ready for people asking for candy then?”

“I don’t know, then why did she have candy? If nobody comes to ask, I wouldn’t buy anything to begin with.” Michael shrugged and as he put some candy in his own pumpkin, he paused to unwrap one and shove it into his mouth. To Ted’s surprise, Michael almost spat it out immediately. “What the hell is this?!”

“What’s wrong with it?” Ted moved closer to observe the candy in Michael’s hand, only to notice how it was pale and crumbling.

“I bet it has worms or something.”

“I don’t think worms would eat candy… or will come out from candy.” He made a face, sliding his hand down on the broom when he yelped, feeling pain in his hand.

“What happened?” Michael didn’t move, now he looked scared.

“I think it’s a splinter…” Ted was looking closely at his hand but the dim light wasn’t helping.

“Can you hear that?” Michael suddenly asked, but Ted wasn’t paying much attention. He was trying to remove the splinter from his palm.

“Hear what?”

“Sshh…. That. It sounds like… Whispering.” He looked at the hall and froze where he was. He could almost hear with clarity what they were saying.

“It sounds like… Crying. Someone is crying.” Ted’s voice was low, and soon enough he was almost pressing against Michael.

“I say it’s time to leave.”

“What if someone needs our help? We should do it– we are heroes after all.”

Michael shook his head. “Heroes can call the cops too. We definitely should do that and wait safely somewhere else.”

“Michael…”

“Look Teddy, this is weird. Nothing makes sense and I clearly hear someone whispering but I won’t get in there. You hear someone crying but it’s not that… And this old lady–” He wasn’t done, he also wanted to mention how Ted was now pressing against him, as if he could fuse with him, while holding him tight from his costume.

“Are you done, young men? Come, I have cookies and tea is almost done. Thank you for helping this old woman.”

The kitchen wasn’t in any better state. At least there was no dust but everything seems to be decaying. Ted wasn’t going to judge, either. He had seen rats and cockroaches around in other fancy places, so seeing a bug around in the kitchen wasn’t a surprise to him.

When he looked to his side, he saw how Michael was taking out the old lady’s candy that he had shoved in his plastic pumpkin before as discreetly as possible. Now there was a small hill of candy next to his old-fashioned porcelain plate, still full of warm cookies. It smelled good, and looked better than the candy, but he didn’t dare to touch it.

The old woman was looking away, humming a song none of them knew as she finished preparing tea.

“Do you live alone?” Ted asked, hands on both sides of his own porcelain plate. It was decorated with purple or blue flowers, he didn’t even know the exact color of them.

“Yes, I do. It’s very lonely here, so I was happy to have visitors tonight.”

Michael stared uncomfortably at Ted before the old lady would turn around to face them. With the light from the kitchen, they could see she was very old.

A sudden loud thud made both of them jolt, but the old lady only smiled as she took a seat across them on the table.

“Uh… What was that?” Ted asked, not looking away from the old woman. He could hear it again, the crying. And then another heavy thud, this time closer.

“This house is falling apart,” she sighed and shook her head calmly. She closed her tired eyes as she lifted her cup of tea, sipping it with both hands.

From the corner of both men’s eyes, they saw something small falling/dropping. When they looked at the table, they saw a few maggots wriggling around. They first thought they were coming from the ceiling but it didn’t seem like it. It was until they turned to the old lady that they saw them, fat lively maggots, squirming on the table as they fell from her rotten left arm

“You didn’t like your tea?” She asked with a crooked smile.

When Ted glanced down at his cup, what used to be a soft golden color for the tea, had turned into a small hill of maggots in dirty water. He gasped, shoving away the cup and spilling it over the table.

“Oh dear, you didn’t like it?”

The weeping was heard again, this time closer, louder. And then, another thud just behind them. When they turned around there was nothing but the dark living room, and from there, they could see weak, thin arms. Someone was dragging themselves in the darkness of the house.

A victim? Someone they kidnapped and had in the basement? A creature she made herself?

They didn’t need more of this. They both could feel their heartbeats loud and clear, if they didn’t leave that haunted house anytime soon, they’d have a heart attack before anything was able to even touch them.

There was no way they’d dare to venture further into that living room with all its darkness in order to get out of that place, so taking their pumpkins with candy inside, both jumped out the window to escape.

As they ran, they could still hear the old woman laughing, but Ted made sure to never ignore what a kid would say.

#Boostle #writing #Booster Gold #Blue Beetle #Ted Kord #Michael Carter

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libidomechanica · 3 months

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“Though like those which time I sat along thee nothing to me”

A curtal sonnet sequence

Platter changeable champaign with the ponderous intent and galleon tossed up to the only friends are Thames’s tributaries, innumerable, pillow or doomed to the fire Grandma’s royal bed by a bard in confounded to Shírín, and therefore May-day: perhaps—but, sans merci hath a sudden lost, the invitation, hides, his participated; till her face— but yours from the foul as she was not apt, like pearls.

—Would make it Sir, ’ and salute love to repay his knights of Thetis, which disdaine on, postilions! His plains as if by some sixty years, and this, was give men come where I sit is a millions we too readiness, his homestead, than gentle, serious? Though like those which time I sat along thee nothing to me. With circumstances, the bed. More shall below? Through Poland to each others them thus; thou sighing of Michelangelo.

Advances with her babe; but destroyd! Who both are a new lphigene, she said, he living finger lands which some way groaning, and soon the ecstasy the universe? Form happy words: nor display’d: don Juan felt, though ’t will. A Russ or Turk—the one whose relief of the thigh. Their pass over the moon on you, gentle gait, making loth, and for thee and turning merely to-day as any blow struck; with deliberal, sincere or less.

Now it grew habit, nor any; nay, you have fallen, have a things unrest, still, I know no beauty’s at this deep breath? Smitten rock that head—for he had been they were woman. Than what it was liberal by nature nature at least night over whom your tears the Gods still unexcavated hollow cheek, and gradually the sex have for me be borne, just as I can tell you tell whence is the soft, his medicines doubled, the gutter.

Exists—and what’s thick, or like the deem her true-heroic—true-sublime and set my hearts, with our pathway strays! Or a Ha! Shoot so youth I wanted you may retrospect beyond time breathe wind is gone. When I be? With a baby as the stains that sweet springald can’t complishments level, such the goal, when ’t is a mill of lies onward and smoking back upon the heard some new smell of hours, and tossing the other shade the night!

Tell thee page, which portions spin the goal, when ’t is a million emerge exhaustion, just observed or lives, precipices, and thou with its crop with Hand and thou yielded! We are the deuce with it, every rather think they structor. You relax Pluto’s brow is run. And song. Red loose our pathway struck me, tired, you so totall as Mother, whiff! Who died in the heart an end, the wretch the smoke roses that, the haunt, and all those pleasure.

I am in loyalty, because I take to appear, Then, beauty. Yet, such puppets of old, may say, forsooth, so, sure at least nine, and palely loitering every same he might stars and power; and then, were but for than the hears that’s enough, then here sole creditor whose gentlest sight and paper, were to offend, when in shore? Let the focus of ours, or self-possession. Full-blown back if one of blooming Century.

With all the horse loud shriek if a wrinkled steel the Nose a light. Vesuvius is dead, the happy crowd of frail. You got a flowers, He said: She fain was every should given to be good looked to be of moderation,—as women, have quietly she greatest, and sweet spring;—floating eyes of the drifting up the due proper heard the high sun flames; purple fritillaries the the British cabinet and gets renown; her strain?

Young strange; these reports, becoming dispraise because some dozen times certain were were no objection; for if you so proud, yet for opposites, thretning all them by some said, our bed is low, the limits here—now? But Ida with their curls from whence in English true life be a blessing a goodly soupe a lady, Dians peers? Beauty won me, but not to be Nature’s own my turf when we are broad-backed with coarse mankind, and yet my heart.

In the dint of slave no links we may proceed. No love. Bold Britons deem they come. But Calvary—She had, a heart inspired and there and proud rather scarce am fit for loftier rays. The orange and Attic at sea and all the nation; but getting will fail at being chid! That Angers feel the moonlight with all that beauty’s dead lost, the Browne, as in her broken system made by barn in Roncesvalles’ battle: kiss you.

Send him that hateful season confounded old dread out as if they who now as we roll, and turning, beheld the pleasure to say there’s a sine qua. Sad more than when, approaching and had take the earth and sillily smile a glow, and down Lethe, we will thee, and many a year shall well agree; with their passionate tears, and then t is nicknamed glory also be true. But why such as she was locked and let me let the whither.

I know where victories out of being sick to thee true that can tell of light of life. Holds a struggle for him of your cheek discloses, where the good look on Heaven knows the death. The common: all have been field, each failed him in colour it have I heard it? And welcome, comely in forgets, to pleas’d to head. Nay, if thou can seen, without it; in the tends to express’d opinion of mortar already. So, as though puddle; hurrah!

The remedy? The victorie, yet he sweetly, o’er fictitious lips to keep aloof, too dull events ’mid the virgin marble busts in the just now thee, and wedded wife, I knew each mortals he is gone. All who held in a morals, marriage into master- mistress of my dreamt for I’ll prattles are, and then looking only I discern— infinite pass before than one portraits in Change; that same reason which I have known the Braine.

Compared with green tress, and sail just now as well known them, needs must now should bar the Noble Nature’s own palace: we said his highest rate is: she also recommenced from such deference of these are so leader of Ismail. And snicker, and the sea remember Helen, the equinoctial line between a flower and fatal interjection, or durst inhabit together with that are eating popcorn the earth’s human shore.

Or old and Evil. With more the flowers, exhausted, wept and glory shortest way, and waly fa’ the subside, by new-mown. I am not in the Gipsy-Scholar travel—which I gaze where more’s the addition; which gave fought my soul. That was they view thing as my force begot in loue you love me so we caught up in us like continue—’t is the death, above, the tap is dripping, the kelp description forms have gone.

When by a bard in your instrument as yet the years, distill’d brother is grim Dante’s obscure wood more proved dangerous. But Ida spoke the maids and kiss, she packets, all mine, entrusted snapdragon, an only daughters, but adoring, if thou do see what now they shot him did not worth while he types; Yes; and all ornament, the guests were all love begets, the most redoubted for women takes twice or take the route? By some ghost?

Yours. For that still, even a maidenheads oft my lines and bred to shoot and for the moon. Poetry ends in thy hair. And descend into the could have gone to win. Moves pictures once they felt it shapes the vapour of social wrong; and old family, and immortal names lend it utterance, changeable and the awful scroll, and tea. Shall I search ever doth she took it, the fresh, and dim. The cross-line should I began a blind and me.

The clock with coarse man I love of my lines my wo, come friends: I gave they had fill’d them when a world. Took upon your will went to be confess: no matter, or to thyself nor though they punched wight, half-seas-over. To these, for Corydon, hath though hell should bar the proud, since immortal who cared nor know you, and strong and palsied fancy will hover, that would spoil my life unto your will went up by its cautious light, and on they heard it?

Lips. Half-seas-over. Let the catalogue of inclination; high the road is a birth and wind-streaking of vows, not in his Redress. When I’m old, and tell into the strong at thy music of the world, and the conferr’d this year ago, whatever finding a pillow or that please in virgins— always in gold must; so farre subtle Wit can their dwell nor ever: find our coverlid of the Prophet should learn its Face looking thumbs.

Say it—our Ida heart. It was; he was, and nurse, to murderer still sea-worthy father love thee by moonlight, we can species. Seven your Highness did not your child; but marry the stiffness of strife and seem to flie; I must, I marry the land, they were, at restaurants to them thus they said Ida withered on the stake one unto good and my heard the consider Now makes young, althoughts of Juan’s history, to wonder why in thee.

In her mind; her non-age. To our bloom of old their uti possible to piques a proportions than faces in the white wall already, who look through some vexation; but the old inn-yard. Love like whom thy charities, and watch for long bills, and yet t is but in the quiet, and strong consume half fooled to Shírín, and as seat the cloud may be won by favour, malgre Malthus, generation. From meeting green the Braine. The moon.

Hath been rails, ton entangled essence of lace at high supprest, which reward for he never singing an instructure had given. Because sometimes anger to changed, I think of your undividually wrapped&cut diagonal, and the dizzy process doth latch: for a yawning. Deeper say—look deep chamber shutters at the warm, and soon will soften with public kindness of sixteen array a stoic, or long its back to you.

The silent, lone, I marry the mattock- holder in thrall! As Eldon on your hand of Death may retrospect beyond call these, for her tightest company is Heaven to passion, but sweet this country in Boston, a metal trinket from my wound there no bar, onward and really, if thou hast my way to keep aloof from star or blood on the villain famous, how? The Mind still. It could that’s arable, clamberable, poesy.

Camouflage and the bright thy music in the soft as summer’s day night, and thee for the molested. Who break them out; but their own opinion made the mermaids singer, and all things are one the greatly err were this issue, and with the crowd, the grass, uncared for, spied itself has perhaps she never lost, the inspector eleven there dwell, blest, but for the strike appeal brooked at my madness to have gone, dream me so dear.

Not the babe in his half-way housekeepers, who, as the clear. And tossing if love, you! The devils or a spring-days, whereof, with your words made better happiness; nor praise me dais of my mind proves imagined more through my heart brought themselves for a minute the surgeon came riding, beheld their natural whirl’d into you for the sot, and fear: why faintest thou gentle, serious. One’s brother born in the cuckoo’s pardon the last?

The men, even asleepe did love-freaks thee, o do not to despair so much, or little thy broad lay bare in the moon short, but who would share ten will scandal, and I awoke, and on grain in their boys, hearing; she might be five men came to obtain; tis time, or play, and all hear the tints that stood, we saw all there if every raven of scarlet Iudges, three: but great brown tea—we held each other room. That makes mine a philosophy?

A noise of the turns no more; where ever— or else of her decease. The ground timorously he forestry of human naturally prospective, that I have no links wither’d forth, that soldier, but may not reach’d ten o’clock: and boats and struggle slack the triumphal muffled by altering, to rain across the dead, or a Ha! I mean! Arms that incarnate loved hill be time to prove, and bare! Fall or good day, three sister: ah!

Put on more white what he was locked and who shone, and the poor prejudice it came marching— king George, with money, made Juan had an air, the mother’s fame to hopes in conversational facility, with entention it with modest part: and the sport half smiling.—To me; close thine eyes be blest kissed its muzzle on the sin, and all senses is, let me have mine eyes find trust the wiry concision were went to her few, he had good!

And the armed mansion. Curled on the mound where, through the mostly mine; for she extends for came riding—Then the Lord George’s men came will went to fill me with appear to strange their leaves unbought you are in this, alas! Then bade it will hover, nor it as a moment was only remain orbed in nameless eyes doth haste, must often: afternoon, the hearth, for object twice these things of your sides something as it gone backyard licks us.

His break all those of the cheek for him of your either without a smoothly run, the louder, confident in the drew her royal splendours their taste of fashions, perhaps the narrative, and o’er kings have a things nothing. I understander betters and head; ere be, will quickly knows? Who pay my collar mounting the fireflies to permit, which I grieve to enter tell; also true, there, issuing, we sat but shun following?

Secret, Good and sank and, subtle soul put out the greater and I have known the man I love alone. Perceiving light windows, the best: never to grieved its day. For shame: for native, and, when you may have heart- wearying ordinance: and down that painted hast too sweet fingers. And dost loud; in thy foot to have them see the children being coat, and the murmur of lighted. But from the beauty new; and arc, spheroid and dangerous.

But for that use to me. Preacher at there all unmeet for her fields on flame, and Master of my love thee? She cries, as eas’ly the soft as spring at love, whilst it towards some near the ploughboy’s tears be: just observed, a twitch of a formulated, body and pure, how dear Love, it bore not Love one of sun out so—now I will, and moved by grief and for us most nobly, and o’er fictitious setting out of the wretched and barred.

Did you look in its Face looking that so rich a modern Mars saw, which heats as seated in your veins, in the man; you wrong, Don Juan, instant memory of marjoram had so much untold, by the sea-lover refreshment for a minute? I pretence, running weeks drop by, and in sweet Spirits meet, leese but the lake, and the tends to Cologne. When we are thousand marriage temper or the judgment to set about a prediction.

I will not a friend. Since Hamlet, nor loss in old woman and now she’s glory seat of hope we slumber: not thy hand, and I began to listened there. It! And that’s haunt, and stocks in blood as cayenne doth not still their side! ’ Haughty mass of books. Remarked its way: suppress, to believe to enter tea and all pains? No. Ivory stars ’light, the west, and maids till of any slight feminine daies the lake, and even this night, and other, still.

When fated of mortar, blossom. And he kisses, and besides somewhat the world she brush a web or two, nor worth Farm, past that, self-murderer bore to his grand must now I know little measures, shall not beauty in Loves Wars to enioy. The wing the dread such slight be my tears brought with a favourite plat’ of midnight’s stars. ’ Boundaries her note, the soot that you cease turnpike road, as having language of these slopes, tis time to wonder, whiff!

Soul with while the handsomely in the tramp o’er thou do’st go henceforth such dispairing of the plain in vain? The night. Of waste, and when a kind of transportation in the birches partly because thee stand and Miss Knowman. Ye have expressed upon the sea. In the purple in them Sir Walter not these she’s all. As ever strain. Turn the pricks’ just ere shattered the clamouring and dresses Giltbedding in taking is spread out of slaves?

Be, nor would say: But howsoever starch, such an air, and arms and years to burn out my heart beating, a beautie but dearest company would sooner fight tempers them pleasures, on life’s worst if he had the sort of myself in his lately fretwork to those powders the tender mind; affect no more: yours. As in such feelings loud—commended, that to be achieved with that I may proceed upon my blisse fit for one plant and steel temper?

Thus girls are bent with more than faces too, but the weaker sidewalk, the light, yet, Thyrsis! I never throat she winds blaze, love’s use thee, dear Dover! If bad, the secret heart. The horizon—where he should I be good governs me to the just not yet in the centre. Not meant this state, you sudden leap it began to encountercharm most people deem’d to a penchant ne’er I have fallen, hail! Is grim head my Cupids dart. In the chaste.

And when I use there, thoughts should I be gone, beauty won me, if that is not daunted by the the women’s team, and from whom he forward violet? Come friend, the empress’s materials, but what’s arable, clamouring from duty, some disgrace. The villain famous, how others, Claudel vilifying Gide, a troop came backyard licks us. But suppose, from the winds war; the edge of theirs, the stars, timing wounded and passion through the death?

Arranging breeze that writ it; for I know the fields, here was dory, relieve; or if it shall good use. Kept the Body, recreate that gently so, as Senses which with the planet guides. Ran a risk their reward his not June for at a delicate air, and situation with sweat or between love of weed, indeed, rose-jacynth to Auld Lang Syne’ bring? Their varies, slight as wise men in them, seems the grassy slope to Vivian-place.

The decanted;—I presume? An eye that in the blossom. Room after him did repay. Robber says her eyes the haunted fairy- gifts and down to the tree yet in the evening gracious people’s garage in this well as further drainer of my arms already we’re nothing, when thou takes the lad benighted; and hover, nor can afford to grieve, were made aware of the tells me he’s been poison’d by Potemkin; others to yeild.

Our enemies have I heard him sing in child! Hut on nature nature at least can write on their airy does, even of scarlet. Able for you had so much prey. With the ghosts—their ends denied, as Southey can ail thee stand a sad astrology, the wall already paid our smile, when I’m old, that flaps and an ermine he felt like Saint Sebastian partly because my liquid lay: but for that will brings are seen while she asleep.

Time for mind at a push to follow’d, and steel are black hair. And arrows sends; by those pleased we will come upon the darkness must be? But still I not destructure have had no part in our necks, we must now their dark old inn-door. Draws, hopes are ever died in light pression for the body were then: ten years of controlling, queen Maud by thee lived against us and bruise its skeleton shall love appear before fiction life’s wheels grate dry!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #122 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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peyurtle · 6 months

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It is my moral duty to haunt you in return for the tag game.

Thus, tell me o writer! About thy TMNT fic!

I shall thank you, my faithful receptacle of tales, for your intermission.

I shall answer as well. Brace yourself, for this is gonna be long as hell.

It all started when a few decades ago, in the early 2000s, a new bunch of TMNT comics was published by Mirage Studios, by then already owned by Peter Laird only, due to differences between him and Kevin Eastman. The new issues of TMNT volume 4 quickly became infamous due to its retconning of April being nothing more than an animated drawing created by her dad using a magical pen. But none of this concerns me.

What does concern me, tho, is the shenanigans that Michelangelo lives in the comics. In this volume, he becomes a tour guide for the Utrom alien race, and his duty is to help the aliens that arrive on earth make themselves comfortable and learn about this new planet. This is where my jam comes in.

Mike’s first tourist is none other than the Regenta (or princess, in earthling terms) Sericulus of Y’Nood Minor, or Seri for short. A protoceraton alien who rules a land of styracodons (another dinosaur alien species) and is quite demanding and aloof due to being a princess. The tour opens with a visit to the local science museum and everything seems fine until Seri expresses her cravings of seafood to Mike. He decides to take her on a trip to the coastal area away from her bodyguards and hit a restaurant. They bond over lunch and Seri admits she’s mingled with commoners before. They take a walk together down the coastline while they continue chatting and bonding together. While they take a swimming break, Seri tries to steal some lobsters, which quickly devolves into a quarrel with Mike and Seri slapping him in the face and swimming away.

Things get hairy, tho, when Seri gets her royal self tangled up in fishermen’s nets with no way out. Michelangelo saves her and gives her mouth-to-mouth in an attempt to revive her. It succeeds with an unexpected side effect: Seri explains that mouth-to-mouth contact, or “sharing breath” as she calls it, is an extremely intimate action reserved for your mate only. As a result, Seri invites Mike to mate with her.

The next morning Mike awakes to find out Seri has laid eggs. While he is flabbergasted, she’s considerably protective of the clutch. They pass time building sand castles until Seri decides it’s time to go back. Mike goes off to get a basket to carry the eggs but when he returns he finds Seri’s bodyguards forcing her into the Utrom vehicle. He fights them in an effort to free Seri and the eggs, but the guards knock him out and cart him off to an outer-space prison. Long story short, he escapes with another inmate’s help and is rescued by the Triceratons (another alien species and mortal enemies of the Styracodons) who recruit him to fight their enemies and Mike, eager for revenge, gladly accepts. The volume is on hiatus, however, so the end remains ambiguous.

What I’m trying to do with my fic is quite the same, but without the eggs and revenge part. Just two teens wandering around the beach and bonding over space bands and foods. Mike decides to get a summer job to escape the lair’s suffocating heat and get to meet new people. Seri arrives, they sneak out and fool around until they end up at the beach. In my version, they both get thrown into prison, with Seri being put in solitary confinement. They quickly develop a communication method through messages written in corn leaves. Seri concocts an escape plan that involves getting the guard drunk and stealing the prison keys before freeing Mike and fleeing to Earth on a stolen car.

At least they scored each other’s phone number.

#voices of new #peyu talks #tmnt #tmnt seri

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hard-core-super-star · 7 months

Note

ahsjkakjdkk not that you need to say that I'm right- you do this? maybe it's so natural that I didn't notice? 🤔 I mean, how often?

NOPE, very clever but the star in the username doesn't count! I'll give you one! here's your star with sparkles around it since you think this one is cute 🌟 I'm glad you didn't tell me that the author of the article is responsible for the book with the translations, so I can definitely not ask you the name of the book since I'm not interested and I'm not even going to think about reading this. I'm not going to say that although it's for a sad reason, I kind of like this “hidden but obvious” thing in poems, especially written by queer people for their lovers, expressing explicitly what you feel but still making it an unknown is something that instigates me. and don't get me started on longing because I'm not going to talk about how well they convey this feeling, making it seem like you yourself are feeling exactly what's described.

she is haunting you now LMAO I think the only thing left to do is keep watching Instagram sending you more😶

did you really just reference an Emily Dickinson poem and walk away as if nothing had happened???

these two also have a place in my heart, I didn't expect you to do a part two so when you did I was 😲😲 I see how this works now, I put some cards on the table all shuffled (aka my messy thoughts) and you organize the cards and add a few more to complete the deck. and yes, I completely agree and I think this is an incredible charm of hers, I mean, she's funny and has the charisma of a golden retriever, she's an easy character to like and can be seen as a comical relief most of the time, but then BAMM!! actually Kate Bishop is a fuckin' badass character and the whole cinema is amazed

– 🌟

i think my increasingly longer rambles prove you right so there's no need to give you that extra satisfaction of admitting it. and, literally every sentence i write is me throwing random words together and hoping they'll make sense 😶

i can't believe you actually gave me a star even though i was being a little brat about it 🥹 i need to find somewhere to put it. i’m so glad you definitely don't care about this author because, even though the book is long, his translations of the poems are amazing and the introduction to the book helped me with my research paper. since you're not interested, i won't tell you that the book is called The Poetry of Michelangelo - An Annotated Translation by James Saslow. i also won't recommend that you check out thriftbooks if you've never used it because i bought my copy from them and it was way cheaper than most places. since you didn't say anything about how much you like the “hidden but obvious” themes, i won't reply that i absolutely agree with your feelings and that there's something so beautifully universal about that pain that makes me seek it out even though i know my feelings will get hurt. it’s what keeps me coming back to dickinson, that way of describing things in a way that doesn't make literal sense but the feelings are all there.

she is!! and it’s always the same recycled bunch of pictures since she hasn't done anything substantial in MONTHS.

yes 😁 i love doing that.

i’m very happy to hear that, i thought i went a little overboard with the uh…let’s say analytical comments about hailee in part 1 so i had to make up for it in part 2…kind of, the critiques are technically still there. that is a perfect way of putting it, although my thoughts are just as messy as yours lmao. EXACTLY!!! if i’ve said it once, i’ve said it a million times, kate bishop has layers!!! she's a mess of all these conflicting traits but when the time comes, she steps up, no questions asked. and maybe she's a little reckless about it but she's so devoted to what she's doing that it doesn't even matter to her. which is where red belt fits in.

#rubix replies #🌟

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andy-clutterbuck · 1 year

Photo

#Andrew Lincoln #*#andygifs #SANTA FACE #can you make one of these at Build A Bear?#rogue neck fuzzies 💙#excuse me but The Nose™#gray and white hairs are such a life source #if you disagree let's fight #H A N D S #actual footage of the ceiling of the sistine chapel #*michelangelo comes back to haunt me*

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wisegirlandseaweedbrainforever · 11 months

Text

First off apologies to StarryFeathers on ff I know this is a rewrite of a certain scene from your fic "Lost Brother" I did love your fic, but as someone who was pushed out of their family due to disabilty, I didn't feel the conculsion was messy enough emotionally, so I rewrote "that one scene" so I could go back to writing my own fic, instead of this thing sloshying around my head forever. Again APPOLOGIES!

...

"That's just cruel father!"

Michelangelo hears Donatello shout.

The clink of pottery gets louder as he breaks into a run. Things have been too tense lately, he gets, but do they have to fight he knows Leo can hear them if nothing else.

"What's going on here?" Mikey asks as he enters the dojo.

"Splinter wants Raph to teach Leo how to fight!" Donnie says throwing his hands in the air.

"I mean that's a good thing right? That way we wouldn't have to worry about him, and dad so much?" Mikey responds confused.

"Not you too!"

"Hey! If this is about him not being right in tha head-" Raph starts

"Oh don't start that again" Donnie rounds on him. "I was there too, Raph! Just cause you can't face facts doesn't mean I love him less! Who built all those crutches as kids, huh? Who tried to teach him how to speak again huh? Me! And I'm telling you ninjitsu is too much for him! It's hard enough on a healthy body! You wear a knee brace, I've been nursing my ankle for over a month! His leg is twisted in two places! He can barely hold a fork! I get wanting to protect him, but that is why I am installing censors! Why we should have an escape route planned, and agreed upon places to meet up! Not for us to break him again!" Don screams tears flowing down his face.

"About that-" Mikey says quietly.

Everyone turns to face him.

Mikey quakes, but holds out the box that he is holding. "I was working on gathering Leo's things from the old lair, and look what I found"

"Is that my old tea pot?" Master Splinter says.

"It looks like it." Mikey replies.

"Didn't it break?" Donnie askes.

"It did indeed, my son" Splinter says simply.

"Leo tried to bring it to you last winter," Raph says. "When you got sick, he tried to help you like you always help him"

Splinter sighs.

"So he was putting it back together?" Mikey askes. "I didn't know he was able to do that?"

"He's more stubborn than a mule" Raph says. "Always has been."

"Hmmn" Mikey hums. "Where is he anyway? With all this arguing, I'd normally hear him falling down the stairs trying to stop us?"

"He's at April's. She wanted to see him, and this all' was a long time comin' " Raph growled "I didn't want him here for it. He's been too anxious as it is, since the cave in."

Donnie finally looked away. And Mikey didn't feel any better, almost leaving Leo behind after the mousers would always haunt him "how could they do that? Just forget about him altogether in an emergency?!" He knew objectively it was because Leo wasn't part of the team, when things got rough topside, they didn't have to worry about him, he was home and he was safe. But that hadn't been the case this time. They weren't topside when the mousers attacked, Leo hadn't been safe, and they should have been worried.

"He's still trying to fix us isn't he?" Don says breaking through Mikey's self depricating thoughts.

"Always the big brother huh? Even when we should be tha ones taking care of him." Raph says bitterly.

Splinter sighs again, "Shredder will still stop at nothing to destroy us, and my eldest is still helpless against him."

"You are so sure he's still in there Raph, why?" Donnie asks.

"Why don't you ask him?" Raph says, holding out his Shell-cell.

Donnie's forhead crinkles as he takes it, and Mikey moves around to read over his shoulder. The ID said Leo, and there were so many texts there, like the accident never happened, like Leo had always been there. Leo asking if dinner was ready, if they could watch space heroes, when April was coming to visit. Mikey barely remembered what that was like, for Leo to be part of their lives. He just remembered the accident, his broken body, how it had been him to suggest that tunnel for playing, sure Raph blamed himself for Leo going back to save him, Donnie for not seeing the signs of collapse, and dad for being topside when it all went down, but no one remembered Mikey had begged Leo to go play there, Leo had said it was dangerous, but Mikey hadn't listened, and Leo was never the same because of it.

"I never made Leo a phone" Don says, voice light with amazement.

"I gave him an old one of mine," Raph said awkwardly. "He was always so worried when we were gone, and this let him know how we were doing."

Donnie looks so horrified, and Mikey understands. All these years, the chasm between them felt so wide, yet if they'd only given him a key board it wouldn't have. They gave up on him too quickly.

#ninjas of the turtle veriety #fanfiction #mine but not mine

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fluffairy · 2 years

Text

I Still Miss Everyone I’ve Ever Loved

A bouquet of flowers in a vase, on a canvas.

Tulips, or irises, or maybe lilies.

Vanitas, memento mori,

Fly levitating at the edge of the frame.

One last coffee at Ditta Artiginale, a hug and a promise,

Then radio silence forever.

Blocked for no good reason,

With no answers available.

I turn away, click clack, down the hall, then

Return and look at the painting again.

She hurt me so many times in so many ways, but I still think:

C would love this, but I can’t send it to her.

A half-liter carafe of house wine split between two

(Red, because of her blood sugar), smiles over risotto,

Going out of my way to Ponte Santa Trinita

because I didn’t want to leave her.

She studied anatomy and flayed bodies and

Sculptures made of wax 500 years ago,

Slowly melting off their metal armature.

I come across an anatomy book that seems perfect for P,

But I can’t send it to her.

The golden boy who didn’t want to commit,

Who turned to a dull grey once the rose-colored glasses came off.

Tall, comfort, closeness, a special something that nobody but the two of us understood.

Comics and movies and Shirley Jackson novels,

Remembering how it felt to be pressed between him and his car in the middle of a park at dusk,

Big hands around my waist, glasses thrown to the side.

The golden boy who was a grown man, actually,

Who messed with a young woman’s head, who refused to blow out his torch

Just for me.

I’m supposed to be over it, but I still think about him.

I see books on comics culture and the history of horror at work,

I think that he would love it, and I never want to see his face again,

But a dull ache burrows into my chest.

I lost M, and I am glad I did, but it doesn’t make it better.

I close my eyes and I’m back in Texas, speeding down the highway to Houston,

Eating tacos and kolaches and guzzling iced coffee.

I think of the days I spent with K in our senior semester,

an overnight in my dorm room for fall break,

Christmas lights twinkling and Trader Joe’s ravioli on the stove,

Thinking even as it all happened that this would be something I would remember, and long for, someday.

She was strange and had so much traumatic baggage and weird interests,

and we called each other Dante and Virgil,

And I didn’t think I had ever had a best friend as good as her.

A letter written in anger on a train ride home from Philadelphia,

A letter that came in the mail two months later, ending a friendship

That had changed and determined so much about my life.

She hurt me, and was not a good friend to me at the end, but maybe

I wasn’t a good friend to her either.

I read a book, I watch a show, I screenshot a tweet, I want to send it to her,

But I can’t.

I’m better off without these people,

But the feelings still inundate me.

These people haunt me like ghosts, a foot behind me but just within reach,

Just close enough to bring back whenever I want.

Am I their ghost, too?

Do they see a Michelangelo sketch or a photo of Santo Spirito or

An Old Hollywood film and want to send it off to me?

These ghosts are conjured by myself, nostalgic to a fault

And lonely beyond belief.

I’m glad that I hold my memories and experiences with me, but

Sometimes I wish I could leave them behind.

Pack up the vanitas painting and the carafe of wine and the parking lot and the ravioli

And shove it under my bed.

Ghosts don’t always have to haunt you.

But I don’t quite know how to let them go.

KS 10/17/22

#ugh yikes #wrote this in one go and had an uncontrollable urge to put this *somewhere*#poetry #my writing

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taizi · 1 year

Text

give me something that’ll haunt me when you’re not around

chapter seven: i swear that i would pull you from the tide

rise of the tmnt pairing: leoichi (leonardo / usagi yuichi) word count: 3k title borrowed from line without a hook by ricky montgomery post-movie

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read on ao3

Yuichi is pissed off.

It’s been most of a week since the incident at the farmhouse, and Leonardo hasn’t answered a single text.

At first, it was alarming. Yuichi’s brain went running in circles around it. Was he okay? Was he in a position where he couldn’t reply? Maybe that flashback had set back his recovery. Maybe Yuichi was the worst person in the entire universe for allowing it to happen.

Then at work Sunita told him she’d been to the lair recently and that Leonardo seemed fine. A little subdued, but not so much so that he couldn’t partake in her surprise birthday party.

Which told Yuichi two things: one, that he’d missed Sunita’s birthday, which he was going to remedy at their favorite boba place in the near future. And two, that Leonardo was avoiding him.

The absolute nerve of that guy!

First, he completely vanishes from the Hidden City after a horrifying invasion of the mortal world and leaves Yuichi wondering what the hell happened to him. Then he returns and unceremoniously takes up every single available square inch of space in Yuichi’s brain and heart, and soul, probably. And now he thinks he can just? Disappear again? And let Yuichi waste his days wondering about him again??

Well, he can go to hell.

Usagi: Hey so

Usagi: I understand that this is a difficult time for your family. And I want to be respectful of that.

Usagi: But Leonardo’s my friend and I need to see him and I am 100% willing to just walk through every tunnel in the NYC underground until I find his house.

Usagi: Or buy a spell from Witch Town to find him for me. I’m not actually allowed to go there but I will.

Yuichi is braced for a fight, or an argument at the very least. He’s pretty sure Leonardo’s family doesn’t like him very much, but he doesn’t take it personally. It really is a difficult time for them, and when he tries to imagine Botan or Sonoko in Leonardo’s position, his hackles go up immediately at the idea of some stranger waltzing in during the aftermath and taking up his precious time with them.

Still. He’s ready to do this. And he really will go to Witch Town if he has to.

But Leonardo’s sister surprises him by not only responding immediately, but enthusiastically. She even seems relieved.

April (Hamato?): oh thank GOD this boy has been driving me up the damn wall

April (Hamato?) has shared a location

April (Hamato?): here. wait topside tho the tunnels can be really confusing at first and if i let you get lost i will literally never hear the end of it for as long as i live

April (Hamato?): i’ll send angie to meet you there. when are you coming?

Usagi: Now. Thank you, April.

April (Hamato?): just get your fluffy butt down there. there’s only so much moping a girl can take

April (Hamato?): 💛

Yuichi owes her a drink. Coffee of her choice. Also, he needs her to change her contact ID.

When he pulls his bike into the sidestreet her location pin indicated and pulls his helmet off, his ears swivel immediately toward a shadowed corner of the alley, so he turns his head in that direction, too.

“Oh, wow,” a vaguely familiar voice says, “you sussed me out that fast?”

The youngest Hamato comes slinking soundlessly out of the dark, all his bright colors incongruent with the way he can seemingly disappear into thin air at free will. His arms are bandaged up to the elbows, crisp white gauze where the stark black wrappings usually sit.

Michelangelo smiles and offers a little wave, approaching at an energetic trot. He’s tiny, but his personality is huge. It’s better suited someone six times his size. Somehow, Yuichi is more intimidated by him than anyone else in Leonardo’s family.

And he’s clearly holding back from him. Even this lively greeting is restrained compared to his usual demeanor, when Yuichi would watch him clown with his brothers at Run of the Mill.

“Hi, Usagi!” Michelangelo says cheerfully enough. “April told me you needed an escort.”

“Thank you,” Yuichi replies carefully.

“She said you weren’t mad about the robot,” Michelangelo goes on. His tone is still bright, but doggedly so, like he’s doing his damnedest to be nice but he’s also ready to drop the act at a moment’s notice and square up. “Is that true? You’re not allowed to come if you’re mad.”

That’s surprising enough that Yuichi blurts, “What? Of course not. If anything, Leonardo should be mad at me.” He plucks at the strap of his helmet, mouth twisting. “I wanted him to have a good day and it turned out horrible.”

Michelangelo stares up at him for what feels like a short eternity. Then he piles forward without warning for a hug. Whatever happened to his arms, they’re still strong enough that they feel like iron bands wrapped around Yuichi’s middle.

Yuichi lets out an involuntary “oof” and stands there stupidly for a second. People aren’t exactly lining up to hug him, given how unapproachable he comes off as. But Yuichi has plenty of practice with his little cousins, and Kitsune when she’s drunk, and Michelangelo is completely little-brother-shaped in a disarming way.

So he tosses his helmet to the ground and lets his arms rest around the top of Michelangelo’s carapace. It feels strange for a second, and then that second passes.

“He likes you so much,” Michelangelo muffles against Yuichi’s shirt. “I’m glad you’re nice.”

Yuichi wants to say He likes me?? but he ignores the dangerous impulse because if he actually asked that he would have no choice but to flee the country. Instead, he says, “‘Nice’?” because that’s equally as baffling.

The spotted turtle leans back to look up at him. His eyes are a little shiny, but his smile is back in full-force. “Yeah, the kind of nice that actually matters. Anyway, come on! Let’s go! We didn’t tell Leon you were coming. That’s what he gets for trying to self-sabotage.”

Yuichi admits, “I am a little mad about that.”

“Ugh, dude, tell me about it! I was like two hours away from staging an intervention.” Those bright brown eyes dart past him to his bike. “Hey, let’s take your bike. I can show you were the garage entrance is, so you don’t have to leave it up here.”

Deciding the best thing he can do in this whirlwind is just hang on for the ride, Yuichi smiles back. “That’d be great, thanks.”

“Can I drive?” Michelangelo asks innocently.

Yuichi squints at him. “No.”

It takes all of three minutes for Michelangelo to wear him down. Yuichi resigns himself to the passenger seat and decides Leonardo actually wasn’t exaggerating about those baby brother privileges.

By the time they get to the repurposed subway station that seems to serve as the Hamato clan’s home, Yuichi is hopelessly lost somewhere in the Manhattan underground. Michelangelo did his best to point out helpful markers, but it will definitely take a few trips before Yuichi is at all comfortable managing the route on his own.

“This way, this way,” Michelangelo says eagerly. “He’s probably still in his room. He won’t come out unless Raph, like, physically carries him out.”

So—moping, according to April, and holed up, according to Michelangelo. It sounds like exactly the same way Yuichi has been spending the last several days, minus the interludes of forced productivity at work.

On one hand, Yuichi is sort of inappropriately relieved he’s not the only miserable party here. On the other hand, Leonardo is miserable over something he had absolutely no control over, something that was in no conceivable way his fault. That’s nothing to feel relieved about.

Michelangelo leads him across the cozy, lived-in station to one of the subway cars sitting stationary on the tracks. The cars must serve as their respective bedrooms, because Michelangelo lifts a finger to his mouth in the universal gesture of be quiet, and creeps with exaggerated stealth toward the open doors.

Yuichi peeks through the long window, eager to get a glimpse of his friend’s life. There are string lights up on the walls, illuminating movie posters and colorful artwork all signed with a stylized M and a smiley. The shelves are stocked full of action figures and trophies and an even mix of medical textbooks and comic books. In one corner, propped up next to a big cabinet arcade game, sits a bright pink and blue skateboard and a battered guitar case.

Leonardo himself is on the bed, cross-legged with his back resting against the wall. There’s a human boy sitting with him. Maybe the one from the videos of the invasion, the one who fought alongside April. He’s leaning comfortably against Leonardo’s good side and holding a Switch so they both can see the screen. Leonardo is using the hand of the arm draped around the human’s shoulders to point something out.

“Shake the trees. Sometimes they drop furniture or bells. Just look out for—oops. Okay, those are wasps.”

“Sensei,” the human says, totally aggrieved.

They both look up at the same time when Michelangelo’s shadow crosses the doorway, before he makes so much as a whisper of sound. Their mannerisms are a perfect mirror of each other, which is sort of an odd thing to see in action.

Even stranger, the human goes still with surprise when he sees Yuichi. Then his whole face lights up.

“Uncle Yui!”

“Eughh boy,” Michelangelo and Leonardo say at the same time.

“Sorry, what’s happening?” Yuichi says blankly.

The human looks mortified a second later, but Leonardo tightens his arm around the boy’s shoulders and doesn’t let the silence settle into something awkward.

“Yeah, so I guess I’m a dad?” he says in a blithe tone. “Only my son is the same age as me, and from a future that no longer exists. You know how it is.”

Yuichi stares at him. This is the last thing he was expecting when he walked into the room.

“I refuse to let you distract me from why I’m here,” he finally says. “But we’re definitely circling back to—that whole situation.”

Michelangelo laughs out loud, bright and clear as a bell.

“This is Casey!” he announces. Then, as if it isn’t at all weird, or maybe because of how weird it is, he adds delightedly, “My nephew!”

Yuichi would be inclined to believe that this was just a joke the brothers were pulling, except that Casey looks earnest and genuinely happy to see him.

He’s heard stories about time gateways. Only real masters of the mystic arts can attempt those, and only with the collaboration of a Time Lord.

Casey doesn’t seem like a mystic master. He’s way too young, for starters. Yuichi wonders who opened the door to send him back. It would have had to have been someone incredible.

“Nice to meet you,” Yuichi says plainly, for lack of better thing to say.

So Leonardo’s—son??—from the future (??) knows him. And seems to think highly of him. The implications of that are doing something squirmy to Yuichi’s stomach. It’s a mostly good feeling.

“You, too,” Casey says. Since his pseudo-siblings are absolutely unwilling to let him feel embarrassed, he musters up a shy smile. “I always wondered how you and sensei met. You guys would make up a different story every time I asked.”

“Oh?” Michelangelo asks with a menacing amount of real interest.

“ANYway,” Leonardo says loudly, then unceremoniously throws the human under the bus. “Casey was just saying he was hungry. Miguel, didn’t you make him some—”

“Ohmigosh, the chocolate-banana muffins!” Michelangelo squares his shoulders and folds his arms, the playfulness bleeding from him. “Hey. Casey, when you’re hungry, you tell somebody. That was the deal.”

Leonardo interjects, “He told me, Doc. That counts.”

“Come on, Mas—Mikey.” Casey sets the Switch down and swings his legs over the side of the bed, hopping to his feet with a level of grace Yuichi doesn’t usually observe in humans. “Can you show me where they are?”

He smiles at Yuichi as he passes him, then grabs Mikey by the shoulders and carts him out of the room. He goes with a lot of unspoken trust in Yuichi’s character, like if there’s anyone Leonardo is safe with, it’s him.

The doors close behind them, and then it’s just Leonardo and Yuichi and the destroyed-farmbotto-shaped elephant in the room.

Leonardo starts to pluck anxiously at his cast. One of the glittery stickers is peeling. His golden eyes dart up, trying to read what’s on Yuichi’s mind from studying his face. Yuichi finds himself thinking, with equal parts exasperation and fondness, that he could just ask.

“I, uh,” Leonardo says, “I should—I want to apologize for the—”

“Finish that thought and I’m going to fight you,” Yuichi cuts him off plainly. “I’ve already explained this in every possible way I can think of, but I’ll try again anyway. The robot does not matter. I break them all the time and no one has ever disowned me.”

He can feel himself relenting in face of the striped turtle’s obvious discomfort. He takes a few steps into the room and sinks into a beanbag chair. Leonardo’s eyes follow him, and when Yuichi nudges their feet together, the hint of a smile touches the corners of his mouth.

“I just hate that it happened,” he admits very quietly.

Either he means the robot, or the invasion, or what happened after the invasion, or all of it all at once. Yuichi doesn’t dare interrupt, not when Leonardo has just taken this brave step forward into seemingly uncharted territory. He just nods to show he’s listening.

“And it feels like. I should, um.” Leonardo’s face twists darkly, anger and hurt and frustration, and he breathes in sharply through his nose, trying to temper it before he even has a chance to really feel it. Yuichi can still hear it in his voice when he says, “I should be better by now. I should be over it. It’s not about me.”

“What the fuck?” Yuichi blurts, sitting forward. “Yes it is.”

Leonardo couldn’t have looked more startled if someone dumped a bucket of ice-water over his head. Yuichi points right at Leonardo’s cracked plastron—that proof of his survival, the most beautiful gods-damned thing in the entire world as far as Yuichi is concerned.

“This,” he says firmly, “is yours.”

For awhile, neither of them speak. There’s music and noise happening somewhere else, Leonardo’s lively siblings hard at work breaching the peace of the otherwise silent underground.

Then Leonardo says, “I don’t like talking about it. But Mikey keeps saying I need to tell somebody. And I guess you’re volunteering.”

As if it isn’t painfully obvious that that’s what Yuichi is doing, when he’s all but begging on his knees for Leonardo to just talk to him. He heroically refrains from rolling his eyes. “I guess so.”

So Leonardo tells him:

“In the prison dimension. The—” He struggles to choke this word out, then finally manages, “The Krang. The general. He was holding me down. I was, uh. I was pretty scared. He was so mad. I don’t even know what he was saying, it was like sliding around in my brain, I couldn’t hold onto anything.”

Yuichi understands that. Those latent animal instincts overriding rational thought, simplifying everything until all that remains is the powerful urge to keep existing. To survive at all costs.

“Um. He leaned in and like—I don’t know, sneered at me—and his teeth were so close and I was so—I wasn’t thinking. I couldn’t breathe, I—” He lifts his hands, helplessly, then lowers them again. “There was rubble underneath me. Sharp metal, all in pieces, from one of his old ships. One of the pieces fit into my hand, and as soon as I had it, I just—I used it.” His voice is so small. “I gouged his eyes out. And then I found a place to hide.”

Oh. It feels like his heart is being ripped clean apart. Yuichi gets up and moves to the bed, sitting close enough to Leonardo that their shoulders bump. His pulse is flying. His stomach feels sour.

“I blinded him. His blood was oily and cold and got all over me. He screamed and rampaged for—hours? Days? I don’t.” Leonardo blinks, far away. “I don’t know. I spent most of my time there hiding. Tucked all the way inside my shell, like a—like a hurt animal. Not much of a hero, huh?”

Somehow, Leonardo is ashamed of himself for this. As if it was cowardly. As if he should have managed to incapacitate a warrior ten times his size and strength in a more honorable way. Like he wanted a nicer truth to give his family.

Yuichi closes his eyes and tries to imagine the prison dimension. Raphael described it haltingly, the glimpse he saw of it through Michelangelo’s portal. Dull grays and ghost ships and an Arctic chill, this horrible place the sun has never touched.

Now he tries to imagine Leonardo there, injured and frightened, all alone with a monster.

He wonders if he would have had the strength of heart and mind to throw himself into hell to protect his friends and family, to save that nebulous concept of “the whole world.” He likes to think he would, but he doesn’t know. How could anybody know until they were there, with the choice in front of them?

Yuichi thinks Leonardo is amazing. He has no idea how Leonardo can think of himself as anything less than amazing. He’s glad the Krang is blind. He would be even more glad if the Krang was dead.

“I don’t like to talk about it,” Leonardo says again, hushed and haunted. “I’m afraid they’ll hate me for it someday. When they’re done being relieved I’m alive.”

I’m in love with an idiot, Yuichi thinks.

Oh, wait.

He’s in love with this idiot.

It isn’t even a surprise. The truth goes down easily, because somewhere along the line he knew that already. Now he’s just—sinking into it. Looking at Leonardo and realizing what this fullness in his chest actually means.

Yuichi was pulled into Leonardo’s orbit from almost day one—the sun and the moon. Months of passing by each other, never speaking, their lives never overlapping. Wanting so badly to approach that full, lively table, second-guessing it every time, always backing out at the last second. The hours and hours he spent agonizing over it. Finally taking the leap. Rewarded impossibly by Leonardo’s interest and curiosity and his smile.

Those precious afternoons in the dining room of the restaraunt, arguing hotly from opposite sides of the same booth, leaning in to put their heads together to watch videos on Leonardo’s phone. Yuichi clinging to Leonardo’s attention, hoarding gold like a miser, because he only ever wanted Leonardo to look at him.

Of course he’d end up here. Where the hell else was he gonna go?

“They would do anything for you,” he hears himself saying. “Do you have any idea how much you mean to them?”

“I do!” Leonardo says quickly. “I just. I’m scared anyway.”

“Tell them that,” Yuichi implores urgently. “Let’s go tell them right now.”

Leonardo stares at him like he’s gone crazy. Yuichi loves him.

“I’ll go with you,” he says, offering his hand. He thinks he’s trembling. His body feels too small to contain the monumental reality he’s just discovered. “You’re not alone, Leo.”

That gets him a choked laugh. Leonardo grabs his hand and holds it almost desperately, as if Yuichi is too good to be true. As if he might do something crazy and impossible if Leonardo lets go, like walk away.

Not in this lifetime. Yuichi never wants to do anything but walk towards Leonardo for all the rest of his days.

They go find his siblings. It isn’t hard, they just have to follow all the noise.

Something chaotic is happening in the kitchen. Michelangelo is perched on Raphael’s carapace, elbows parked on his big brother’s shoulder and chin propped in his hands to watch the show. Raphael is trying to gently extract a hot pot of coffee from Donatello’s hands and Donatello is trying to drink from it directly. Casey is sitting on the counter, eating a huge lopsided muffin with an expression of doe-eyed wonder on his face.

They all look up when Leonardo and Yuichi come in. Leonardo’s step falters under the sudden scrutiny. He clutches Yuichi’s hand tighter, his grip bruising. Like somehow—somehow—Yuichi’s presence beside him makes him feel brave.

It’s okay, Yuichi tries to tell him, squeezing back. I’m not going anywhere.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #leoichi #usagi yuichi #hamato leonardo #hamato michelangelo #bushido boyfriends #my writing #tmnt fic #these bright blue city lights

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remmushound · 3 years

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Bay/rise 25!! @brightlotusmoon @errorfreak88 @selfindulgenz

“COWABUNGA!”

That simple cry was all it took for the mutants and the soldiers they were locked in combat with to stop fighting. Their eyes searched a short while until they saw four more figures jumping from the rafters armed with sai, nunchaku, Bo, and odachi.

“My beautiful experiments!” Draxum gasped, then tossed Raph and Donnie aside like toys he was bored with.

The four mix-matched ninjas landed in a semi-decent formation, more for drama than any useful fighting technique. Cassandra saw Leo’s bewildered expression and took advantage of it to smack him over the head with the wooden part of her weapon before flipping away.

“Ah— what are you doing here?” Leo growled and rubbed his head.

“Saving you guys!” Leonardo shot back out of impulse, then quickly withdrew with a softer, “Uh— I— I think?”

“Draxum!”

Michelangelo squeaked and ran over to hug the yokai. Draxum grunted at the tight squeeze and his expression turned into a shamefaced, almost haunting look. He didn't seem to know what to do, not returning the hug but not quite pushing the box turtle away either.

“How’d you get here? You came to help us! Oh! I knew you would!” Michelangelo nuzzled into Draxum’s chest.

“Drax, daaaaaamn.” Leonardo whistled. “Looking Fine ~”

“Where’d you get the cool armor Drax?” Raphael asked excitedly.

“And more importantly, are they still producing them?” Donatello poked out from behind Raphael, “because I am interested!”

“I…” Baron Draxum brought his hands carefully to Michelangelo’s carapace, looking around at the gallery of other turtles and then to Cassandra who looked on with an almost heartbroken expression. Baron then snapped his attention back to Michelangelo, pulling his lips back in a snarl. “Don’t you dare touch me, vile traitor!”

Michelangelo looked up at Baron with wide, confused eyes. Draxum didn't let himself witness the sadness and heartbreak in them as he tossed Michelangelo hard.

“MIKEY!” The rise brothers all cried out at once.

Michelangelo didn't try to catch himself. He let the impact come full force. The crack of his carapace against stone almost seemed to break Draxum’s heart in two, but he didn’t let it show. His face remained stagnant.

“Now fight, worthless terrapins! Like I made you for!”

“Draxum…?” Michelangelo’s voice was softer than a whisper, mixed with a sniffle as tears fell from his eyes and trailed down his beak. For a few seconds of shock shared between all present, the only sound was heavy breathing and the steady trickle of tears as they fell to the cold stone.

The sound that broke the silence was a roar of pure rage as Raphael brought his fist down hard on Baron Draxum’s cheek and sent the yokai slamming into the far wall, leaving an indent where his body had collided. Draxum, stunned by the blow, could only watch in mounting horror as the snapping turtle roared once more, not unlike a dinosaur from an old movie. His eyes were glossed over white, frothy foam flying out of his mouth as his breaths came heavy and labored. Raphael dug his feet into the floor for a second before charging Draxum at an incredible speed.

Cassandra gasped. “Master!”

She was on Raphael’s trail the minute he started to charge. Her mind worked faster than a bumble bee, locking onto the bandages wrapped around the turtle's shell and remembering the damage her master had done to him. She angled her naginata to strike him in that same area for optimal damage, but her blade was intercepted by another.

“I got your back, Raph!” Leonardo locked his odachi with her bent naginats so neither of them could go anywhere.

Raph tried to charge back into the fray.

“Wait.” Leo held out his arm to stop Raph, “I wanna see something…”

Raph and Donnie reluctantly stood by their leader and watched the other turtles as they took on the yokai and the human general. Draxum overcame his shock in just enough time to launch himself out of Raphael’s war path. He didn't dare try to take on the snapper in his state— not hand-to-hand anyway. He grabbed the snapper’s legs with his vines to try and hold him back, but they were little more than a nuisance to Raphael who snapped them with ease.

Cassandra finally broke free of the stalemate with Leonardo by dropping suddenly and trying to ankle-swipe, but Leonardo was ready for her and flipped away into a quick recovery.

“Dang girl! You should totally join a circus!”

Leonardo ducked as Cassandra tried to swing at him, dodging the speeding attack with a slide that came natural to him. He turned his duck into a charge, slamming hard into Cassandra’s stomach to knock her off balance before speeding away from her attempted counterattack.

“You’d be great at the trapeze!”

Cassandra chased after him, trying to corral him into a corner. Leonardo didn't dare stop once he got his momentum going, and when it came time for what should have been an impact, he jumped and flipped off the wall, completely missing Cassandra. Unable to stop in time, Cassandra hit the wall rather hard. Leonardo already knew what was going to happen when he landed, and so he prepared for the ouch as his feet slid out from under him and he slammed into the hard stone.

“Ow. Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow!” He scrambled to his feet and sped away.

Leo whistled. “Good move on his part. Could improve his landing though.” Some small part of him simmered with jealousy at how easy the slider could manage the soldier that Leo himself could barely land a hit on.

When Cassandra shook off her mistake, she did just as Leonardo had expected and reared her weapon into the air while shouting, “You dare make a mockery of the Foot Clan?!”

Her question gave Donatello enough time to swoop past, while Cassandra’s eyes were still locked in a bloodlust against Leonardo, and he snatched the mystic orb from her belt.

“I’ll take that!”

Cassandra had to do a double take to figure out what had happened before she growled and changed her target to charge at Donatello.

“GIVE THAT BACK!”

Donatello was fast, but not as fast as Leonardo. The slider did a wide turn and zoomed past to side-check Cassandra and make her slip before she could reach his brother. Leonardo snatched the orb from Donatello, circling the warehouse once more.

“HEADS UP!”

He tossed the ball up to the platform where April watched, and the kunoichi dove to catch the speeding artifact, ignoring the pain still radiating through her as it landed safely in her hands.

Donatello was handling Cassandra okay enough, and so Leonardo's next target was his youngest brother.

“Miguel! We could really use your help out here!”

Michelangelo hadn’t moved from his stunned position, his eyes still glazed over with tears. “Draxum…”

Leonardo gave a nervous whine, his eyes shooting every which way to take in the current situation before he grabbed his brother’s hands and yanked him up, forcing him into focus.

“Come on, Mike, you know drill! Let’s knock that renegade out the rafters!”

Leonardo spun quick circles; he gripped Michelangelo hard as his brother's feet left the ground. Leonardo couldn’t get nearly as much force into the toss as Raphael could whenever they played the brother ball technique, so he had to rely on pure speed and luck. And he was the luckiest one out there! Leonardo went through the calculations in his mind, humming the countdown in Spanish until he got to uno and let Michelangelo fly.

“DON! BROTHER BALL!”

Draxum was too focused on the snapping Raphael to notice the speedball headed his way. His hooves found footing easily on the rafters, dancing between the beams with a perfect balance as he angled attacks downward. Michelangelo slammed into Draxum’s back with a solid clang of keratin and metal that sent both falling.

Donatello broke from his spar with Cassandra and ran forward for the recovery, holding the wooden staff high. Michelangelo popped out of his shell when the time was right and grabbed a hold of the staff, Donatello lifting him safely away from impacting the ground. Draxum, however, landed full force.

“Nice save, Don!” Leonardo whistled as he sped past, readying himself to jump right back into the battle.

Draxum knew when to call it quits, and now was the time. His vines pulled from the ground and created a pink rift, which he promptly grabbed Cassandra and heaved her through. Raphael attempted one last charge, but Draxum was already gone and so was the portal.

#BROTHER BALL #Michelangelo is heartbroken #writing this had me in tears 😭#hope you enjoy!!

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aliaslua · 3 years

Text

Everything I wanted

Michelangelo (TMNT 2016) x Fem!reader

Summary: A deep friendship flourishes between the reader and Michelangelo. Despite your attempts to disregard what your heart desires, the affection between you is impossible to ignore. One day, for no apparent reason, Mike starts treating you coldly. Could this be the end of a relationship that never even started?

Category: Romantic, some angst but mainly pure fluff.

WARNINGS: None c:

A/N: So I've been feeling super romantic lately, couldn't help but to write this fluff piece to calm my heart! Hope you like it! Also, English is not my first language, so constructive criticism is always welcome. Thank you for reading!

You can also read it on AO3 <3

How long?

You sighed deeply and continued to stir the sauce pan.

How long has it been since you realized you were in love? The memories of that heavy rainy day when Michelangelo had knocked on the balcony window were still vivid, you remember it as if it were yesterday, even though it was almost a year ago. At that time you weren't yet part of the group, effectively. You had met those vigilante - the turtles - only two weeks ago, and despite having made maybe two or three visits to the lair, their attitude towards you was still very reserved, very cautious. It made sense... They didn't know you and had a life that did not allow suspicious people around, it was the most rational thing to do. Even though you understand the point of view, it still brought you a little discomfort to be treated so coldly.

You sighed again. They all did treated you like an outside at that time... Everyone but him. In that night that now inhabited your mind, Mike had sought refuge in your apartment. The rain was too heavy to come home, could he stay overnight? Well, of course! So you brought towels and a thick blanket, you increased the fire in the fireplace and made him hot chocolate. He was so happy, so grateful. He was like that, after all: humorous, cheerful, positive.

So you spent the night together... Talking, cooking, playing cards and waiting the end of the torrential rain that insisted on falling. That had been the first time you had been up all night but the wait was not at all tedious, Mikey was so funny and so joyful that the hours passed like minutes and only when the first rays of the sun appeared on the horizon did you realized how long it had taken.

"Damn, is it day time already?." He had said "Thanks for the company, Babycakes. Best date ever." He winked and chuckled.

You shared with him a genuine smile and even after he left you continued to smile for the rest of the week.

That had been a year ago. After that, Michelangelo started to neglected his patrol shifts to visit you. You ordered pizza, watched series, played board games. He loved to watch you doing your hair and once or twice he had let you gave him a manicure session, his company was the highlight of your day and you guys started to see each other at least three times every week. It didn't take long for his brothers to find out and Leonardo gave him a scolding that seemed monstrous by Michelangelo's reaction when he told you - Well, guess you lost the chance you had to make a good impression. At least Mike liked you - he did, a lot - but indiscipline had resulted in punishment and now he could only visit you when he was off duty.

It was during that period that you realized you were in love. The realization came through you like thunder. You were waiting for him to come in through the window, but he didn't show up. You remembered that he wouldn't come - the punishment also involved not leaving the lair for a month, only for missions - and you realized the terrible sadness of knowing that you wouldn't see him. Suddenly, his absence felt like a hole in your chest and the pain was more than spiritual: you could feel the unbearable contraction of your own heart. In the weeks that followed you tried to rationalize: "He's my friend and I like him. Of course I miss him! That's absolutely normal. Nothing wrong or unusual. It doesn't mean I am in love" Maybe, maybe. If you don't say it, if you don't accept it, if you deny it until the end, then it won't be true. It is not love.

But it was. It undeniably was. When that month finaly passed and you saw his shadow crackle on your balcony again the vivid heat that stung your chest screamed that he was the man you loved. You still remembered the feeling of being in his arms again. His scent, his skin, his laughter, his soft voice that whispered in your ear how he had missed you, you still remembered the thrill you felt in your body when he popped a kiss on your ear.

From then on things had gone downhill. Your denial transformed into a snowball that grew to a point that was impossible to ignore. You started to visited him at the Lair once a week and you still had weekly visits in your apartment, you had your own internal jokes and non-verbal codes. The hugs became longer and longer and letting go seemed irrational, while everything about him felt right: his smile, his arms, the way he scratched his neck when he needed to think, the way he tucked your hair back behind your ear , the teasing, the flirting ... Everything was perfect, it was suffocating, it was too much.

The kitchen alarm woke you out of your trance. You drained the noodle water. Today was wednesday and Michelangelo had promised to visit, but canceled at the last minute. Recently things have been... weird. One day you had arrived at the Lair and you felt a tension that hung in the air, that kind that remains after an interrupted fight. Mike started to be awkward, embarrassed, shy. This suspicious posture caught you off guard and suddenly it seemed like you didn't even know each other. He had stopped calling you by petnames, he didn't give you hugs anymore and the messages were so rare that sometimes they didn't even come. You didn't understand what had happened. What had you done? It was impossible to know. But canceling today's meeting had been the last straw and the message was clear to you. It had ended before it even started.

A deep sigh made you swallow the knot in your throat and with a forkful of your dinner, you held back your tears. Maybe it wasn't meant to be. You were too different. How could it be? He was the hero of the city and you couldn't be more ordinary. A large sip of wine warmed your body. This time, a single tear ran uncontrolled down your cheek. You would never get over him. You would never stop missing him. You would be forever haunted by the cruel doubt of not knowing where it had gone wron-

A soft knock on your balcony window made you jump in fright. You immediately recognized the noise, how could you forget? That had been a harbinger of your happiness for the past year. Mikey.

In a hurry, you wiped away the single tear with the back of your hand. When you arrived in the living room, he had already entered. There was a giant space between you. Normally you would run to hug him but it all seemed so inappropriate now. Your heart was beating so fast that you could feel it in your throat. You looked at him and it seemed that you weren't the only one who had been crying.

"Y/N I ..." He took a deep breath. He looked different. Perhaps older, matured by sadness. His eyes no longer had the sparkle that had made you fallen in love with him. "I'm sorry to come at this hour. I ... I ..."

A deafening silence filled the room.

"I can't stay like this anymore." He finally said, in a sigh "I can't, it's impossible. I can't eat, I can't drink ... I can't think of anything... I have no motivation to do anything I ... I can't live anymore with all of this in the chest. I ... I need to hear you reject me. "

"What?" Was all you could say, astonished.

"It's all I am asking for. Please reject me. Tell me already that I am a monster, that I took advantage of your trust and friendship and that if you knew it that would came to this you would never have been so kind. Please ..." This time you had no doubts, he was crying. "Please, just tell me! End all my hopes, because I can't think of anything else. I-I can't live in peace until you finally tell me the obvious. For God sake. Tell me that you don't love me back. So I can finaly get over this stupid dream and move on!"

"What." You said pathetically, for the second time in a roll.

He crossed the room with determination. He approached you with the same delicacy and affection that you thought had disappeared and with the same care he kindly held you face.

"I'm in love with you. I am in love with you since that first day when you gave me a blanket and made me hot chocolate, when we played cards and talked about basketball. You are a sight inked on my mind and since I met you I can't think of anything else." He closed his eyes bitterly "If everything was different ... I-If I were different, I would do anything to be everything you needed. But I know ... I-I know I'm not... I am not the man you want and more than that I know that I’m not the man you deserve... But I can’t spend another minute pretending I don’t dream about you every day, because honestly, I’m going crazy. Just say it. Say that this is impossible and that I am the last person in the world that you would like to be- "

When your lips touched, it was as if an electric current was running through your body. There he was, Mike, your Mike, back in your arms, asking you to do the impossible. There was nothing to be said - You could only show him. His eyes widened with the unexpected advance, but with the same speed he returned the kiss, deepening it. His lips were everything you had imagined, warm and soft and it was almost impossible to contain your moan when he dropped his hands to your waist and pulled you closer. Your body was hot but it was no longer because of the wine, the repressed desire turned to caresses and your bodies seemed to scream "finally, oh god, finally!"

The pause for breathing was followed by two panting bodies. Leaning on his arms, a stunning view of his blue eyes was the only thing that interested you.

"I love you, Michelangelo. "You said, almost whispering." I love you, I love you, I love you. "

He smiled for the first time since arriving at your apartment, you saw clearly when his eyes started to shine again. You joined together again in a long, hot, lingering kiss. Lost in the heat between your legs, the cold in your belly and the joy in your heart, you could only think of how everything was perfect.

You sat on the couch, you on his lap. The night was still young and silence was enough to describe the joy you shared in that embrace. Finally in his arms, you laid your head on his shoulder while he played with your hair. Staying there, with him, was everything you wanted, for the rest of your life.

"I will make you the happiest woman in the world." He said while sniffing your hair.

"I already am." You said, after kissing his neck "You already did."

#bayverse tmnt #tmnt #tmnt 2016 #michelangelo #tmnt mirage #fluff #angst #mikeyvsreader #reader

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