#I finally figured how to draw turtles

[chippers900]

Somethings just don't change do they?

Also have some funky backgrounds-

[terrazooid]

Gay turtle

[viveela]

He is my favorite idc

[perenlop]

aughhh hes so happy his baby made a friend…

[rose-thorn]

Using a new art program and went absolutely insane with the lighting

Imma draw Raph next!

[stickynotelovers-art]

Yoshi/Lou/Splinter "I was today years old when I became a single father" Jitsu/Hamato learning to parent is just such a wonderful idea and I want to see more of it. I've been wanting to draw Splinter related stuff for a while, but just hadn't been able to think of anything. I finally thought about this grown man in the hilarious position of trying to deal with 4 little infants that fit literally in the palm of his hand. It's even better when you think about the fact that he is also a single child who would have to try and figure out how siblings work while also having to place at least 2 out of his 4 sons in air jail for biting him on a daily basis.

We don't have a very clear indicator of when he transitioned fully into the Splinter we see throughout the series, just that it happened when the turtles were still pretty young so I kind of compromised and combined his freshly transformed design with aspects from his general appearance in the series.

[allmightyscroll-swag]

AAAGGHHH I CAN FINALLY SHOW THESE GUYS TO TUMBLR,,,

everyone welcome the newest addition to my au catalogue,

FLYING TURTLES AU !!

aka, what if Draxum woke up one day and was like, "okay but what if my super soldiers could fly? "

Their DNA was quite unstable so uh.... Some of them came out not fully like Draxum wanted them to. But they make it work!

Bonus early Donnie sketches: (you can see I haven't figured out how I wanted to draw Mikey in the first one yet,)

Not much changes with the plot they can just fly now.

[fatesundress]

⭑ observations ii. tom riddle x reader

part i here.

summary. two weeks after your last encounter with tom shatters all of your previous observations, tensions are high, and eventually, something's gotta give. (it's tom. he’s giving head)

tags. smut (so. so much. minors BE GONE TO WHENCE YOU CAME!), fem anatomy + reader is referred to as a woman by someone, fingering, cunnilingus, piv, again implied tall!tom or short!reader (take it however you prefer), jealous tom does not understand friendship but then again neither does reader apparently, a little wine is had, the room of requirement is used shamelessly as a plot device, did i mention smut, i’ve lost my mind etc etc.

note. this is a part two, so go ahead and read the first part and come back if you'd like :) obligatory preface: it's safe to assume any smut i write within hogwarts is a university au — these people are all 18+ tyvm. also woahh was not expecting the love on my last post so thank you! i'm still trying to figure this whole acc out so support, questions, (requests? never done those before) anything is appreciated ♡

word count. 6.3k

The next two weeks are agony. You don’t, in fact, stop meeting with Godefrey to study, because you do, in fact, still need a good mark in Ancient Runes and for all his faults he can reach the tallest shelves and he’s a faster writer than you. Also, Tom Riddle is fantastic with his hands but this does not make him God.

You find pureblood politics a bit archaic. You find muggle courting a bit stifling. This leaves very little space for what took place between you and Tom in the middle of a corridor two weeks ago (you can’t stop wincing at how insane that sounds) and very little patience for his utterly original and not-at-all entitled request that you halt your studies with Godefrey. Godefrey doesn’t stick his hands up your skirts while the two of you are studying, doesn’t silence your gasps with a shush and a finger to your mouth, doesn’t — wouldn’t (you’re so imaginative when you want to be) — tell you to keep reading as his thumb draws circles between your legs, tell you to repeat the words that get caught in your throat, tell you how much he likes it when your eyes go dumb and glassy and all you can say is his name. So, really, Tom should have nothing to worry about.

“I swear,” Selwyn says, picking at a plate you don’t think she’s actually eaten anything off with how distracted she is, “he’s looked over here at least three times.”

You don’t dare glance at who you know she’s talking about. “You’re obsessed.”

Pot. Kettle. Whatever.

“Are you sure you didn’t do something to upset him in Potions? Didn’t botch something that might mar his perfect record?”

You flick her forehead and she scowls. “I’m not an idiot, Selwyn. I handle myself just as well in Potions as he does — he wouldn’t —” Wouldn’t have complimented your rapport if that weren’t true, wouldn’t have said you communicate efficiently, make a good pair, probably wouldn’t have — fingered you in the hallway? — yes, that too. Slipped your mind. So easy to forget.

You take a long exhale, and smile impassively at her. “I didn’t botch anything, trust me.”

She finally takes a bite of food. “Maybe I did something…”

And then she’s lost in thought again, eating now, at least, and you shake your head softly as you watch what are likely a million different theories flitting through her head.

“Morning,” Tom says to you when you enter Potions after breakfast, a delicate smile tugging at his lips.

You have, of course, trained for this. 

It’s your fifth — sixth? — time sharing a table with him since that night and it is somehow easier by nature and harder by anticipation (of what, you have no idea) every time. The first was terrible. Unsalvageable and without a silver lining. It had taken almost an hour that morning to charm the violent hues of red and purple spanning the column of your throat, and ultimately, the marks were so persistent you’d forgone the glamours and decided to just wear a turtleneck. You’d been fortunate it was completely inconspicuous to wear such a thing in December, but that was about all there’d been to be grateful for. You hadn’t been able to look at Tom all class and his hand had brushed yours once to take a phial from you and you’d flinched so sharply it would have shattered on the floor if he hadn’t caught it. And he’d smiled, like he’s smiling now, a soft, “Careful,” that honestly, for a short moment, made you want him dead.

Now you could speak just fine, look him in the eyes in practised intervals, and almost, impressively, make articulate conversation with him again. Make stupid comments about Slughorn and Lestrange and bear the weight of his grin knowing it was there for you.

His, he’d called you. A very funny thing.

“Morning,” you answer on a smiling sigh, sleepy but jovial all the same. 

You deserve applause for this.

“Tired?”

“Mhm — Essays for Ancient Runes are due Friday and it’s been keeping us up all night.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve yet to ascertain. Your research has been put temporarily on hold, scattered and splintered by the revelation that your first observation was, admittedly, a little bit off, and you have no means of figuring out a look like that when you can’t even begin to figure out anything else.

“Has it?” he asks, a tinge less friendly.

“Well,” you say, grinding the lacewing flies, “that’s commonplace, isn’t it? You take all sorts of advanced classes, I’m sure you understand the work it takes.”

“...Hm.”

That’s it. That’s all you get from him.

And if Selwyn’s concern over you botching your work in Potions wasn’t already, obviously dispelled, the glee on Slughorn’s face as he assesses your and Tom’s cauldron should do it.

“Brilliant! Just brilliant!” He claps a hand over Tom’s back, regarding you both with pride so thick it clouds his eyes, like he's drifted into a revery of the future (you and Tom, you expect, are his most prized graduates, making history under his name, proving his immense wisdom) before he appears to return to Earth. “Ten points between the two of you, hm? Very, very good — though, of course, no surprises there!”

He chuckles to himself as he evaluates the other students, and you catch a horrified wheeze of Godefrey’s name (bless his heart) as one of the cauldrons in the back begins to sputter and froth.

You look to Tom with some droll little comment at making it to the end of term with top marks, but his gaze is burning into Godefrey’s table in such a way you wouldn’t be surprised if it was what was causing his cauldron to boil.

Well. Perhaps not, then.

You and Godefrey hand in your essay that Friday with more relief than apprehension — you both decide it’s quite good — and you laugh loudly and breathlessly as he picks you up and thanks you a thousand times, spinning you until you’re dizzy. You refrain from making any promises to attend his Quidditch games, but he vows to let you have the snitch he catches.

And Slughorn, you come to find, was not exaggerating his elation at your skill. After trotting after you on your walk back from Ancient Runes to invite you to the last Slug Club dinner of the year, your spirits are high with the blissful satisfaction of a job well done and a night to celebrate it with.

You can breathe, finally, when it’s the last week of school before Christmas break and Selwyn’s zipping the back of a last-minute dress you purchased in Hogsmeade.

“Gorgeous,” Selwyn says with a grin. “Wish this school would have a bloody ball so I could really dress you up.”

“Buy a doll, Selwyn; you can dress them however you like.”

“You are such a —”

You burst into laugher, swatting her wand away as she pokes your side with it. 

“Just — go then, before I hex you.”

“All right, all right!” you concede, arms raised in surrender. “Don’t ruin all your hard work now.”

“Oh,” she calls on your way out the door. You turn and there’s a mischievous look in her eyes as she tucks her wand back in her pocket. “And do tell me before I leave tomorrow if Riddle stares at you all night.”

You groan as if it’s a truly abominable thing to imagine. Riddle, staring with those dark eyes of his? You, the centre of his attention? Ghastly. You daresay you’d never recover from the horror of it.

“Don’t leave before I tell you how remarkably uneventful a night it was,” you say with a sidelong glare, and leave before she can edge in the final word.

You have no idea what a Slug Club supper typically consists of, but you imagine for Christmas he’s gone a little further with his festivities. His office is glittering in hues of green and red and fleecy, snow-dappled gold. The lights overheard (some similar charm to the one in the Great Hall but a tad less complex, you think) drip and then vanish into the air like squeezed berries, and the berries — served with pastries and ice cream — taste like they must be enchanted with something.

Selwyn was right that the standard dress isn’t quite formal enough for a ball, but it’s… formal. The boys are in clean-cut dress robes and the girls are in fine gowns of different lengths. By the overwhelming number of them you recall being archetypes of Slytherin pureblood fanaticism, it makes sense how expensive they all look. You yourself brush up nicely, if not a bit more frugally, but you haven’t been to an event like this at the school yet, and that’s exciting on its own.

It’s another degree of training (is there going to be a marathon? Are you at war?), a step up from your preparations before Potions every other day, to be ready when Tom Riddle enters the room a respectable five minutes late with a gleam about him more captivating than any of the lights.

“Ah, Tom!” Slughorn exclaims, and ushers him into a seat you remark before Tom is even in it is discomfitingly near to yours. “We’re all here at last… Supper, then? Hope you aren’t too full already, I’ve got the House Elves running laps!”

You’re spared Tom’s closeness by a Ravenclaw couple sat in the chairs between you, their hands clasped under the table while they sip wine from their goblets, and you only realise the length of your observation when Tom glances at you from the spot over, and you startle yourself into reaching for your own goblet and pretending to enjoy Slughorn’s bitter wine.

You eat. You listen to cluttered, unending tales of Slughorn’s time at school and how he earned his post. You drink, and then you regret not drinking before eating because there’s only a very light, very nice buzz that warms you when you finish your cup, and the Ravenclaw couple is — oh, wait, it isn’t just them — they’re standing up to dance as a gramophone sparks to life and a low, dulcet instrumental begins to play. There are now two notably empty seats separating you from Tom.

What had you said this night would be? Blissful satisfaction? 

You couldn’t blame Selwyn for suggesting you’d blundered Potions — you didn’t feel exceptionally smart right now.

“I didn’t know you would be here tonight,” Tom says, pulling the chair beside you.

Where is the bottle of wine? No. Nevermind. You behave regrettably enough sober.

You manage a simple, “And yet.”

“...And yet.” His lips quirk before he takes a drink from his goblet. 

You lament for a second that you’ve only actually kissed those lips once. They spent a great deal longer on your neck.

“Will you be here over break?” he asks, and it isn’t an unreasonable thing to ask, you suppose.

“I think so. Why?”

“I’d like to know whether to expect you or not.”

Expect you… No, yes — revert to observation two: unusual is not an apt enough word for him.

It takes you a moment to conjure a response befitting polite dinner conversation. That is, after all, still what this is.

“I suppose you can. I’ll be busy, of course.”

Well, you didn’t say you conjured something good. It’s a big fat lie. Placating, vague, empty. And you suspect Tom knows that.

“Pity.”

Yes, he knows. He’s all quiet amusement again.

You stare off, satisfied to be left alone —

"And what is it that'll be taking so much of your time?"

“Well, I'm —” And now you have to build the lie — “I’ve told Godefrey I’ll attend to his Quidditch practise. Since the pitch isn’t in use.”

God, it’s so stupid it’s almost impressive — you don’t even know if Godefrey will be here over break, and you could have chosen any number of excuses that would pique Tom’s interest less than it’s apparently consistently piqued by the mention of your study partner. 

There’s that strange, indecipherable look again. Riddle is a perfect surname for him, you decide then, and you almost laugh at yourself for it, but that would probably not go over well should he ask what’s so funny.

“Have you, now? That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s hardly charity.”

“Hm, it’s kind of you to think so.”

You huff, tipping your goblet back to swallow the last meagre dregs of your wine.

“You look lovely.”

It’s just a little bit — just a tiny, straggling little bit of elderflower that captures your throat — and you cough into your goblet. “Thank — thank you.”

And, well, he looks lovely too. Obviously. Sickeningly so. You know little about his personal life but you’re positive he’s at least a half-blood, if not muggle-born, and it makes you wonder the influence of his renownedly plain black suit in a crowd of neat, long robes.

He manages with little effort to look better than all of them at their best.

His eyes drift over you appreciatively, quick enough not to be rude but — enough. (Enough that you daresay you might never recover from the horror of it.) You adjust under his gaze even when it’s situated on your face, far too heavy a thing for you to carry. “Does Godefrey call you lovely?”

What?

You blink at him, your mouth is probably open and you probably look stupid but he’s so… irritating. Yes, of course Godefrey calls you lovely. Godefrey tells you you’re the smartest woman he’s ever met (after his mother), and he drowns you with sherbet lemons at no cost, and he writes at the speed of light to match the quickness with which you recite your textbook, and none of it means anything. Tom is just —

“Unbelievable…”

He quirks a brow. “What was that?”

“I said you’re unbelievable, Riddle. Is it impossible for you to comprehend that I might have friends? That Godefrey is my friend?”

“Well, memory serves me right that you seemed a bit confused on the conventions of friendship last you mentioned it. Do forgive my uncertainty.”

He — that was —

“Well, that’s because we are not friends.”

“No.” He leans in. “We are not.”

You push your chair from the table with all the grace you can manage for such an abrupt thing: a tight, impersonal smile on your face as you walk away and approach Slughorn, only realising when you get there that your empty goblet is clutched in your hand like you’re trying to strangle it.

Whatever he sees on your face, he isn’t drunk enough not to frown at. “Ah, our newest gem — hardly seen you all night! Not leaving already, are we?”

You glance at the clock. It isn’t as though you’re being impolite by abandoning his party in the middle of the event. It’s quite late, the servers are stuck to the walls with little to do, and most of the room has divided into waltzing pairs.

“I’m taking my friend to the train station tomorrow, sir. Unfortunately I need to be up quite early.”

Yes, yes, it’s all so tragic. You’re depressed to go.

“Such a shame,” Slughorn frets, wobbling a tad and balancing himself on the wall. “You’ll be all right getting back? Not at all dizzy, are you?” His laugh is cleaved by a loud hiccough, and then he laughs even more. “My, well, I myself will need to be carried!”

“...I’ll be fine, sir. Thank you.”

“Oh, no trouble at all — there’s — hm… ah, Tom!”

No, no — is it bad you almost reach over and slap your palm over your professor’s mouth? Is it at all impressive that you don’t? You should look on the bright side in moments like these. You should admire your restraint.

But of course, Slughorn’s eyes don’t fall upon Tom for nothing. He's halfway across the room already, and Slughorn must have spotted him approaching to achieve this brilliant solution. “Tom can escort you back, no?”

Tom (unforgivably) is beside you now, a very mean, very pretty smile on his face.

“Not too much to ask, I should think? You know the castle best. Head Boy — sometimes I still can’t believe it!”

You look up at Tom and your jaw is clenched where you’ve since put down your goblet. There is too much tension in you to know what to do with, and he looks positively thrilled.

“It’s hardly charity, sir.” He holds out his arm.

You wonder what spell would catch him most off-guard if you were to blast him in the face right now.

Slughorn claps his hands together. “Ha! Yes, well… perfect, then! Off now, the two of you, off now. Do have a good — ” He hiccoughs again — “rest!”

You don’t even bother the diplomacy of smiling at Slughorn as your arm loops through Tom’s and you’re exiting the party. 

Neither of you say a word on the journey, and that’s very well.

If you could just get back to bed without speaking to him you may still consider it a good night. You may be able to push his strangeness and his entitlement and the annoying way his hair falls to another day, when he pesters you about Godefrey’s nonexistent Quidditch practise, which — come to think of it — you do think he told you he'd be headed home for the holidays. You really fumbled that one.

And then Tom’s thumb is brushing the bare skin of your arm and your walk stutters a bit. But he doesn’t mention it, and so neither do you.

And then he’s drawing down your elbow to your forearm so softly it almost feels like he isn’t touching you at all. He doesn’t mention it. Neither do you.

And then your arm, without really meaning for it to, is slipping from his and his hand is holding yours instead, feather-light as his fingers clasp yours and your breath is not the same as it was when you left.

He doesn’t mention it. He just keeps going.

His fingers work back up your arm and you shiver as they drag across your shoulder, gaze searing your neck as the soft digits find their way to your jaw, and you get the sense he’s remembering just how much he liked the taste of it, and you’re… you’re allowing it all again. You’re leaning in, you’re seeking him out, you want him flush against you and even that might not be satisfactory.

You are, in the end, a half-decent observer and a terrible liar.

You’re grabbing his hand with a small amount of direction and a great deal of meaning. You suppose it's because, historically, you’ve proven to have trouble with words in moments like these, and you don’t really know where you’re taking him but god, you know where you want him. Somewhere soft, this time, thick enough that you can fist your hands around it and melt. Somewhere he can hover over you, maybe hold you down a little, just until — maybe, miraculously — you might make him break a little too. Clamber over his lap. Make him yours.

“Tom,” you mouth, some question in the way your eyebrows knit.

The moment you say his name — the instant — he’s pulling you in, crushing his mouth against yours. And, ah, right, that’s what his lips feel like. You’d almost forgotten. 

This kiss is not chaste, hardly tender. It resists in that it asks you to push, to plead, to take this for yourself to prove how badly you want it, and he smiles into it when you do. And then, sated by your efforts, he lets you have him. You’re gripping the collar of his suit in your hands as his wander appreciatively over the back of your dress, pulling you into him as the kiss deepens. He’s savouring you like you’re something religious that’s been offered to him, and there’s the taste of wine on his tongue and you’re still here, aware enough that the symbolism isn’t lost on you.

“I've been thinking," he says between kisses, “about the way you felt when I touched you. I've been thinking about how long it might take before you need it again." 

You gasp at the sensation, and god, god, you've been wondering too, haven't you?

You’re pulling him impossibly closer and something hard is pressing into your hip and you clutch tighter onto his shirt as you moan into his mouth. You need it off, you think, and — has your dress been clinging to you like this all night? You need that off too. You need skin on skin. You careen him backwards without aim, your mind a muddled mess of all the many things your body is screaming it needs, like this is fucking imperative; to give it up would be catastrophic.

You suppose, based on what you’ve read, that that’s how the Room of Requirement works, but it’s still funny to think it would apply to this.

It hurts to remove yourself from him to watch in dumb awe as the door forms in the stone (to see the dark, languid shape of his eyes bearing down on you, the wet, stained pink of his lips), and Tom seems to recover from the revelation much faster than you.

His mouth is on yours once more, a hungry kiss; his free hand at your waist, guiding you through the door and shutting it carelessly behind him. 

He’s like fire against you, radiating as he presses down on you, his hand tangled in your hair and his hips flush against yours. You shiver as his mouth starts to move down (a cheap trick — he hasn’t forgotten how much you liked it the last time) from your jaw to your throat, as his lips trail down your chest and you're shivering into the warmth of him.

You’ve heard it said before, in some romantic sense, that it’s sometimes hard to tell where you end and someone else begins. 

This is not like that.

You've never been more aware of anything than the point where you and him meet.

You’re tugging at him blindly again, trusting in the nature of the Room like this isn't the first time you've been in it, and then you're stumbling down onto a bed you're quite sure wasn't there a moment ago (people say magic is a neutral force but evidently this is not the fucking case), fingers carding through Tom's hair as his body pins you into the mattress.

His mouth is molten hot as you squirm and pant beneath him, your breath coming faster than it ever has. Everything feels sharper and deeper and more intense under his touch, every sensation heightened until it's almost impossible to tell pleasure from pain, his tongue from his teeth.

How did it take you this long to do this again? To need him like this?

And his — you should really have the mind to see the mistake in all of this but perhaps that's for later — his fingers are pulling your sleeves down, propping your back to arch as he reaches under you to unzip your dress, apparently too impatient to sit you up and take it off properly so he just bunches it around your waist instead. There’s a moment where he stops to look at you, your chest exposed to him in the dim sconce-light, and then his mouth returns to circle your breast and you're biting down on a pillow to hold back the whimpering gasp that seeks to escape you. He hums around your flesh, and then he’s at your sternum, kissing a stripe to your belly button before pushing past the dress he's left ringed around your abdomen.

You shimmy under the weight of him to prop your head up — to see past the mass of silk that obscures his face from you as moves lower and lower, hands spanning your hips to keep you still.

His face hovers above your thighs, and he doesn’t move.

“Did you enjoy my fingers?" he asks. 

At that you freeze, thighs pressing together to bury the hand that's rising between them. 

Tom smiles. “Hm, you did." 

And then he spreads your legs apart, one hand pushing your underwear aside and regarding you with delicate, shameless appetite — something that might even be adoration: like this is all he ever wanted you to want.

“Do you think you'd enjoy my mouth, too?"

Words are gone. There's nothing left in you.

His head moves happily between your knees, holding them apart, pressing kisses to the base of your thighs. Your hands flail from the sheets, desperate to grip something else and you hold back a sound that feels like irritation and need at the same time. You need him closer, higher than this. He knows. You can feel his smile biting into your skin.

And then you manage a nod though you're not even sure he's looking at your face anymore (and what a picture to imagine he is) and you worry momentarily it won’t be enough for him — that he’ll ask you to be nice and say it out loud for him — but he hums with something merciful, and — his chin dips. You catch the smallest glimpse of his tongue before it’s on you, wet and slow and unrelenting and you say his name, but it’s a mewl; you choke on it. It sounds like a cry.

Pitiful, needy, undone. Just how he wants you.

You think all efforts to remain even remotely composed are thrown to the wind as soon as his tongue is lapping at you, fast and then slow, everything you want and not even remotely close. He sinks all his weight down as if he can predict the moment you'll writhe before you do — and you do. And with his grip he tells you to endure it. You only need him to say it with his hands and his mouth but he breathes back, licking his lips and he actually says it. “Be good.”

That makes your breath hitch and your cheeks swell impossibly hotter, and reality is a small glint in your peripheral where everything else is burning red. “Y-you’re—”

His mouth returns to you, tongue catching your clit in a drawn-out, agonising motion, and you gasp and lurch forward to inch through the sensation, craving more, more, more. Reason is lost on you, a throbbing familiarity forcing you to grind your teeth down on the pillow to stop yourself from telling him to — you don’t even know. Finish you. Abandon all reluctance. Just let you come as hard as you know he wants you to.

But he pauses, observant as he starts to work his fingers against you. Watching how your slick coats them like it’s the most enthralling sight he’s ever witnessed. Slowly, ever so slowly, he starts to push one inside of you, hearing your breath catch above him and the moan that comes tumbling out of your throat, pillow be damned.

You do your best to breathe through it, and you know he knows how to make you unfold like this, so the meticulous lightness of his ministrations tells you he’s trying to keep it from you now. You’re almost embarrassed about the fact that you’re dripping onto his hand regardless; his lips puffy, his gaze unnervingly, dizzyingly carving you in two.

“Just,” you rasp, clutching desperately at his wrist. “Tom, please.” 

Your begging must be music to his ears. (It’s a rare, unplanned fifth observation: that you think he’ll never get tired of hearing you say his name like that.)

He adds a finger. It’s encircling you, first, and no amount of restraint can stop the harsh gasp that leaves you, but then it’s his tongue and two fingers and he’s pushing into you how you wanted, and he makes a pleased sound against you, gripping you tighter with his free hand, still not allowing you movement and fuck, are you trying. What you're feeling now — the need, the want, everything —  is more than rational thought. Your mind goes blank, and all that matters is this, him, right here and now; nothing else exists, not even for a second. You moan, a low, throaty noise that's a little too loud, a little too intense; you can't recall if anything has ever come from you quite like it and Tom devours you at the sound.

More, you agree; it's almost an obsession in you now; more, more, please, anything and everything.

It’s the precision of his touch — not some bored, hurried transgression — that brings your hands helplessly to his hair.

“Tom,” you whine, holding him tight, and the purr of his mouth finding you again is something destructive.

As soon as you feel another swell of something deep down, your mouth is dropping open.

His tongue is sliding through you, fingers curling, and then your clit is in his mouth, and he’s watching you between your thighs as your eyes clench shut, and you’re coming.

Your voice breaks somewhere in the catastrophe of it. Your body spasms, electric down to every atom, and he pins you down through it. He doesn’t grant you the reprieve of escaping the frenzied, glorious torture of it. His mouth still lingers. His tongue moves thankful and unrelenting. 

He takes all of you, and you think this is destruction — creation — both. How terrifyingly similar they suddenly feel.

His lips are swollen and slick when he finally detaches them from you and you want to kiss him, but he’s leaning back to admire his work. You swallow, unable to blame him for it because you look down at yourself and — this is something else. You’re dripping down his chin. You're shaking. Your legs are still clenching around his torso. They’re holding him so tight you can’t imagine it doesn’t hurt.

But he just rolls off of you. Adjusts his trousers and your abdomen flutters and you think, don’t.

You don’t even realise you’re reaching for him until your hand is around his wrist and you’re still fucking sighing through the come-down, panting into the hot air.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, fingers damp on your chin as he holds you. You make a note that that’s the second time he’s done that. That you thought it was strangely intimate the first time and nothing’s changed other than how much more you like it.

And it doesn’t really feel like you can help it but crawl with gooey, trembling legs onto his lap. Doesn’t feel like you can help it when you lean in and capture his lips with yours, moan unabashedly into his mouth at the stiffness that presses against your core when you do, steal his tongue and the taste of you on it.

When he pulls away he’s looking at you like he doesn’t think you can actually do this. Like you’d just crumble the moment you tried.

A low, determined protest rises in your throat and you’re kissing him again. You’re unbuttoning his dress shirt, you’re trembling to reach for his trousers. 

When you can finally shrug his shirt off, press yourself against him, feel that skin on skin you wanted so badly, you find it somehow even more suffocating than its absence. You’re left wanting a more you aren’t able to even conceptualise, but you’re grinding involuntarily against him and his teeth are scraping your neck and he's hissing at the sensation, and — yes, there’s more.

Your breath is staggered when your hips stutter into a roll and you — fuck. You’re tugging desperately to remove his belt and he smiles against your throat as he takes your hands and guides them to him. You can feel his bulge against your thigh and you’re spreading your legs to usher him where you want, clawing at his chest without even meaning to.

Tom’s taking off his belt, and he’s pulling down his trousers just enough to bare himself to you, and maybe he’s right that you can’t manage it yourself but he stops his assistance like the intrigue of finding out is too good to resist. There's something both intimate and imperious, in a way, about the way he's looking at you now; it's a kind of focus and intensity and withheld hunger just for you; and you're more than happy to give yourself over to it, to let his hands and his eyes and his mouth claim you for his own. To claim him for yours, at last.

You do. You struggle for it. He’s very patient. 

But then it’s there — more — as you finally sink down on him and bite his shoulder and he shudders a low, pained exhale, his hands clutching your waist.

There’s a silent, suspended moment where neither of you move. The room feels entirely still. 

Your lips quiver over his pulse, and your stomach flips at the intensity of it, the undeniable rate of his desire beneath you. You smile against him now, like he always does to you, conscious enough to mumble into his neck, “Mine.”

Tom stutters inside you, fingers gripping you impossible tighter as you dare to think he even gasps. You dare to think he likes it.

And then one of his hands grabs your jaw and his kiss is searing. He thrusts upward and you cry into his mouth, searching to match his pace in a way that you appreciate, for once, he seems unlearned in. 

It’s all a bit messy, a bit new, palms in fists, in skin, in hair, digging for every part they haven’t already taken from. The sound in the back of Tom’s throat is divine, the feeling of him inside you as he slips his hand back between your legs — like he needs everything, like he knows you do too — it’s ineffable. It coils somewhere deep, touches something you didn’t know existed. Your hips are rotating, thighs still soft and slack from coming apart on his tongue, but you’re determined. It feels like finding even ground. It feels like something you deserve: to make him feel how you did.

Your head rolls back, eyes pinching shut in bliss, but Tom is there at your jaw again, forcing your blurry gaze back to him.

His hips are inching even further, the intensity of his pace as he adjusts to you making you dizzy. You think, realistically, there’s sound coming out of you, but you aren’t entirely sure when it’s so close to him, when your mouth is between his fingers and your ears are ringing and he’s looking at you like you’re made for him. 

“Mine.” And it isn’t a dismissal of your own claim but a confirmation that one will not be without the other. His voice is raw and breathy and something about the way he says it makes you contract inadvertently around him, hands swatting his chest like they don’t know what else to do. There’s just too much.

You recognize you’re trying to say something. Some plea, a moan, his name (is there anything else left?), but you’re just babbling into his mouth and he holds you there. He doesn’t kiss you. It’s your failing words against his lips. He swallows whatever syllables try to shape them.

It’s there again when you need it most; the heavy, swirling feeling inside you as he snaps his hips, his fingers returning to your waist with punishing firmness. His breathing accelerates, low in his throat, and you push harder against him. Your vision is gone again, head held in his hands to keep from rolling back so that, you suspect, he can watch defeat split you down the middle again — not over your shoulder, not with his head between your legs — with his eyes on yours, with every broken moan you let out so close to his face he can feel the breath of each one.

You’re grappling desperately at skin that doesn’t feel like enough, even though he’s rocking inside you, and you see the insanity of it, you see that it isn’t logical. Too much and not enough at once — you’re smart enough to know that doesn’t work, but it just is.

“Please,” you manage in a voice you don’t recognize. “Please, Tom, pleasepleaseplease —”

Had you said before it was foolish to call him forgiving? You take it back. He’s very eager to oblige you.

He finds some place inside of you and you don’t know quite what it is that he changes but it's new, uncharted, and you break there. You dissolve. You’re liquid in his hands as you sob, stuttering around him, trembling like you didn’t know was possible, and you swear — you swear you’re going to take him there with you. It isn’t that you could stop yourself if you tried but your body is gripping around him, fingers carving halved spheres into his skin, and you’re pushing down on him through the ecstasy — you’re forcing your eyes open so he can see you break, watch them flutter back all soft and pretty.

And you're sated by your ruin when it ruins him too.

The sound he makes is ragged. Undone. He can only bury it halfway with a kiss you think is actually more of a bite, twitching inside you as he fucks you through it.

You’re both lost in each other for a moment that feels detached from time, feeling his hips stutter to a halt, feeling your body soften. And he’s pulling out of you like it hurts, mouth falling open as he does. You wince at the loss, the sweet soreness between your legs, and you’re held only by the weight of him. You think — and you actually sway like the mere idea is too strong — that if it weren’t for his hands, you’d fall flat off the bed.

But he sort of lifts you off him, lays you down and watches you for a long time as if to decide something important before he's laying down beside you. You watch him too. His fingers brush your hair out of your face, and when there’s not a single curl left clinging to the sweat on your skin, he continues anyway. You let him trace your lips, your jaw, your nose, and somehow, a bit terrifyingly, your final observation: nothing about it feels unusual at all.

You did say he was yours.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Could I request something with a reader who is worried that they might be too dumb for Donnie? Preferably 2012, but whichever iteration you'd like is fine ❤️

Am I Not Smart Enough For You? (Fluff)

2012!Donatello x reader

A/N: Had to do 2012 Donnie, because it feels like a long time ago since I last did one for him💜

Warnings: None💜

In the heart of the bustling sewers beneath New York City, Donatello was deeply engrossed in his latest project. The soft glow of computer screens illuminated his determined features as he meticulously tinkered away, his mind swimming with circuits and algorithms, moving back and forth between his monitor and the large machine that stood proudly in the middle of his lab, slowly growing larger with each passing day.

Donnie was fully caught up in his work, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth, as he watched his fingers move with concentration, that he did not see you enter the lab.

You stood at the entrance of Donnie's lab, a worried expression furrowing your brow as you watched him work. Long had there been a worrisome topic, that you had wanted to turn over with your turtle boyfriend, knowing it was best to bring it up so you could talk about it, instead of staying silent, letting the problem grow until there was no way to fix it. You admired Donnie’s brilliance, and his intellect that seemed to know no bounds, but sometimes, it left you feeling inadequate. Doubts gnawed at the corners of your mind, whispering cruel thoughts about your own intelligence compared to his. In some ways, you felt horrible for even thinking that Donnie would think less of you, due to lesser intellect, but if you were a genius like him, you would probably feel alienated, especially when your own partner did not know what you were talking about, and simply unable to understand. You loved listening to Donnie’s drawn out explanation, even if you didn’t understand a word. But it was the way his eyes would light up, and how his body would move with sudden energy, and a bright smile on his face. It made it all worth it, even if you were too dim to follow along.

With a heavy sigh, you finally spoke up, your voice hesitant yet tinged with concern, as you slowly stepped into the lab. "Hey, Donnie?"

Donnie glanced up from his work, his eyes softening as they met yours, along with a smile, obviously happy to see your unannounced visit to the lair. "Hey, (Y/N). What’s you doing down here? Did you text? I didn’t see your message".

You hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt nervously. That caused Donnie to halt in his movements, his eyes focusing on your hands. It was obvious to him that you weren’t just down here to say hello.

"I... I've been thinking”. That sounded like the start of a sentence, that Donnie only could fear the ending of. His heart increased in speed, and his mind raced, praying that you weren’t about to say the thing that would tear his world apart. “Do you ever... worry that I'm not smart enough for you?"

Your question was almost a relief for Donnie, who had feared something way worse. He blinked at you for a moment, before he finally realized what you were asking about. Donnie's expression softened with understanding as he set aside his tools, his attention fully on you now, his arms reaching out for you, asking you to come closer. "Oh, (Y/N), no. Never for a second. You're incredibly smart in your own way".

You blinked, surprised by his response. "But... but you're a genius, Donnie. And I'm just... me. Sometimes it feels like I can't keep up with you, like I'm always a step behind whenever you talk about your projects".

Donnie reached out, gently taking your hand in his own, his fingers gliding over your soft skin in soothing and comforting motions. "Being intelligent isn't just about knowing facts and figures, (Y/N). It's about understanding, creativity, and so much more. And in those areas, you shine brightly. I mean, look at your art! Your drawings, your paintings. Even Mikey is jealous of those".

You swallowed back the lump forming in your throat, touched by his words. You looked down on your hands in his strong three fingers once, blinking away a few tears. "But what if I mess up? What if I'm not enough for you?"

"Don't you see?" Donnie's voice was earnest, his gaze unwavering. "You are more than enough. You bring a perspective to the table that I could never have on my own. You challenge me, inspire me, and make me see things in a different light. That's what makes our relationship special. And I love you. That is more than enough for me".

Tears welled up in your eyes, a mix of relief and gratitude flooding through you. "Thank you, Donnie. I needed to hear that".

He smiled warmly, pulling you into a gentle embrace. "Anytime, (Y/N). I'm here for you, always".

And as you leaned into his embrace, the doubts that once plagued your mind began to fade away, replaced by a newfound sense of confidence in the love you shared with the brilliant turtle who held your heart. In the heart of the genius, there was always room for love, understanding, and acceptance. And together, you knew you could weather any storm that came your way.

“I love you, Donnie”, you said, your face buried against his shoulder, feeling warm and comfortable in his arms.

You felt his chest vibrate with a small chuckle, before he pressed his lips to the side of your head, kissing the side of your temple. “I love you too, (Y/N)”. He pulled from the hug, before using his foot to reach out for another chair, letting it roll over next to him. “But now that you’re here, do you want to help me? I really need your thoughts on something”.

You smiled at Donnie, happy that his statement about your perspective in things wasn't just something he said to make you feel better, but something he actually meant. And so you took a seat next to him, smiling brightly as he showed you what he had worked on.

[lactoseintolerentswag]

The Spotlight Effect

Maybe someone else has pointed this out before but I'd still like to talk about it!! Something really interesting to me about Leo (rottmnt) as a character is his inherent charisma, and how he draws in people with grand and dramatic speeches. Visually this is shown by something I like to call the "spotlight effect".

Season 1 Episode 2 "Origami Tsunami"

Originally the mentioned effect was used as a bit/gag. Here Leo is trying to hype up the boys to go on a junior-level "safe" hero adventure, and does succeed in getting them excited. Throughout the episode he's shown to drag them place to place, one inspirational speech after the other.

Season 2 Episode 1 "Many Unhappy Returns"

In season 2 we see this effect return. In "Many Unhappy Returns", in which Leo is initially a figure of comedic relief to ease tension in the return of the Shredder. This backfires a little bit, as it mostly annoys his family despite good intentions (which are not clearly communicated). It's not until he proves that he's taking this situation seriously--and ramping the team up with another one of his on-point speeches about everyone's strength of character--that he becomes a point of inspiration. The scene above takes place after Raph questions Leo, who in turn responds with "trust me".

Season 2 Episode 2 "Todd Scouts"

Again we see the "spotlight effect" used as a gag; however, there is still an interesting point here made in this scene. Leo calls himself something along the lines of the master at apologies, and something I believe that contributes to the effectiveness of such apologies is that charisma that draws people in. Which is shown visually for us via this effect!!

Season 2 Episode 5 "Air Turtle"

Another apology of Leo's after his dismissive and competitive behavior when playing basketball with his brothers. It also serves as a motivation point in this episode, for them to go against the mysticly beefed up basketball players.

Season 2 Episode 9 "Bad Hair Day"

I'm tentatively counting this as part of the phenomenon I've pointed out because while Leo is Put under the spotlight as a potential suspect to the thieving in this episode, Leo takes full advantage of it to wrap people around his finger. The hair doesn't not help either.

--

And now for one of the most Blatant and emotionally impacting examples.

The Rise Movie, the moment when they think their brother is lost, and when Leo begins to finally start listening to his team.

He unites them under his hope and confidence. I mentioned in this post that Raph is their center of responsibility, well in comparison Leo would be their center of inspiration. His competitiveness rubs off on his brothers (encouraging to put their all in the silliest of things), his playful encouragement keeps the baby of the team from being too babied, and his speeches tie everyone together to one goal. Hope is a ninja's greatest weapon, and while he may not realize it until Casey Jr. quotes that famous phrase, he's been using it this entire time.

[ju1cyfru1t]

Hiii pooks! 😙 I love❤️ ur writhing sm

I’ve been having such a spider man phase after watching the new spider verse movie and I was wondering what would the turtles think when they figured out reader being NY’s Spider women or spider person like they haven’t told thier turtle bf about it and stuff (live for the drama😵‍💫)

Always love you and def feel free to ignore!

I LOVE THIS thank you pookie 🤭 hope u like it 🫶🏻🕸️ u didn’t specify so I’m gonna assume you meant the rise turtles!

Rise! Leo, Mikey, Donnie, Raph x Spider-Woman! S/O

ROTTMNT x Reader

fluff! :D, fem! reader, contains swearing, not proofread

Leo

- He may not be the brightest mutant, but he is observant

- Probably interrogated the info out of you

- -> “Y/N, where exactly were you last night?” “Oh, uh…I was with, um, April.” “That’s funny…considering April was with us!”

- It didn’t really shock him to find out you had a big secret, what did shock him is what that secret is

- He’s also a little hurt that you didn’t tell him. Don’t you trust him??? But that wasn’t his biggest concern

- “Wait, so like…spider woman as in like, big mama kind of spider woman?” NO-

- You would have to really explain it to him

- But let’s be real, he still wouldn’t understand so you’d have to show him by like climbing up the fucking wall or something

- But he really does think your powers are super sick

- Laughs when you try to explain your spidey senses -> “wait, you’re serious?”

- ^ calls them your “tingly thing”

- maybe you can web his fucking mouth shut

- LOVES your suit, thinks you look stunning and super awesome

- “You know, I always said that was your color Y/N!”

- Invites you to patrol with them! (then he doesn’t have to do as much)

- thinks you’re so hot when you fight (NOT IN A FREAKY WAY YOU FREAKS) and hypes you up

- freaks tf out if he ever gets a web on him, including if you were to swing with him to get out of harms way

- doesn’t ask for them, but he can’t deny he likes the iconic Spider-Man kisses

Mikey

- would just straight up ask if you’re hiding something. Dr.Delicate touch DOES NOT PLAY ‼️

- Of course this would be something you’re hesitant about, but he would remind you that you can confide in him

- Def was not expecting THIS.

- He is asking you a million questions all at once, and will sit nicely and listen as you explain with starry eyes (stop lookin at me with them big ole eyes)

- You’re #1 fan and biggest hype man

- Thinks you’re the coolest person ever fr

- Wants to swing around on your webs with you. Around NYC, in the lair, in Donnie’s lab, on missions, it doesn’t matter he WANTS it.

- THE ICONIC SPIDER-MAN KISSES ALL THE TIME ITS HIS FAVORITE WAY TO KISS YOU NOW

- weirdly interested in your webs 🕸️

- Compliments your suit anytime you wear it around him; thinks your mask is so so cute

- ^ in his free time he’ll sketch and color new suit designs to show you (also just drawings and paintings of you in your suit)

Donnie

- isn’t going to pry any secrets from you; but he does secretly wish you’d come to him on your own.

- so you can imagine his gratitude and relief when you finally tell him what’s up

- Doesn’t really say anything about it, but he doesn’t get why you didn’t just tell him sooner. I mean, you do know he’s a hero too, right?

- he’s fascinated, he’s never seen anything like your powers before. especially because you’re not a mutant.

- really just asks questions about how it all works. Your webs, how you stick to surfaces, your enhanced senses, the whole deal yk?

- He did NOT like big mama’s webs, and he doesn’t really like yours either I’m so sorry.

- ^if he needs them, would ask to use some like he did with Big Mama’s

- It’s not you I swear he just can’t do it

- you could like climb all over his lab ceiling and walls and scare the shit out of him tho

- ^ “Y/N get down this instant! WE TALKED ABOUT THIS-“

- admires your enhanced senses and intuition of danger

- is absolutely gonna make gear for you, as well as offering to make upgrades to your suit

- wouldn’t really directly say it, but he really likes the design of your suit. it just fits you so well. (he IS going to make a purple one for you)

- would scream if you ever just dropped down in front of him to kiss him spider man style

- ^ traumatized; it’s not his favorite thing but he doesn’t mind terribly

Raph

- might take him a while to notice if something is off about you. Leo or Mikey would probably have to directly point it out for him to realize fully

- Isn’t going to beat around the bush and just asks why you’re acting lowkey shady

- really shocked, might take him a second to process even if he doesn’t really know exactly what you mean at first

- honestly he understands why you keep it a secret, just a little saddened that you kept it from him

- He’s gonna need you to really explain your powers

- “…where do the webs come out of tho?”

- would deepen your bond and connection. you can really relate to each other carrying a deep burden and the pressure of responsibility.

- AMAZING DUO with his strength and your agility

- very good hype man

- takes you on most missions and patrols, thinks you’re a really valuable asset to the team

- also calls your spider senses your “tingly thing”

- it’s not that he doesn’t like your webs, something about them just make him nervous. Refuses to let you swing him on them unless he’s in immediate danger.

- does NOT let you crawl around the lair walls, he’s scared you’ll hurt yourself

- ^ “Y/N! You’re gonna hurt yourself, GET DOWN!”

- really thinks you look so pretty in your special suit, he just doesn’t know how to say without feeling like he sounds dumb. He would DIE if it was red.

- “ I really…er, like your costume.”

- very supportive! he gets the struggle of protecting the city, but is happy you get to do it beside each other. :D

- he likes the spidey kisses, they just really fluster him

——————————————————————————

y’all I’m sorry if there is any misinformation in this don’t flame me but I haven’t seen atsv yet

[pahtoosh]

Hi, I’m not sure if your requests are open at the moment, but I figured I’d try anyway!

Would you be willing to write about Stucky and their little having a day out together? Like going to the zoo, the aquarium, or perhaps go swimming? Whatever you feel like writing is fine, even it is an entirely different activity!

I absolutely adore your work, so I can’t wait to see where you will take this idea 🩷

sleeping with the fishes

[image ID: a gif of fish swimming. /.end ID]

masterlist

sfw but 18+

wc: ~780 words

warnings: lots of being picked up and carried, not proofread

a/n: thank you so much for your kind words! this is such a sweet request, it’s my favorite thing to just write about a fun and fluffy day😁i hope you enjoy this and that i didn’t make you wait too long😅

pairing: daddy!stucky x little!reader

summary: your daddies take you on a trip to the aquarium

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“Woah, woah! Slow your roll, fish patrol.”

“There’s no time, Baba! We have to go the ‘quarium!” It was almost unreal how quickly you were moving while simultaneously not getting any closer to the front door. You were running out to the car when Bucky stopped you with a grip on the back of your jacket. That didn’t stop you from jogging midair, though.

“Ah-quarium.” He plopped you onto the small bench in the entryway. “And I’m pretty sure there’s enough time for you to at least put on some shoes before we leave the house.”

Bucky kneeled in front of you so he could help you get on a pair of sneakers. He made sure to double knot the laces, knowing that you would have no patience for getting your shoes retied today.

“Dada! Are you almost ready?!” you shouted down the hall.

Steve sped walked out of your room with a backpack of stuff. “Almost! There’s a lot to pack for a full day out of the house.”

You whined and tried stomping your feet, forgetting that Bucky was still putting on your shoes.

“Hey, no whining and no kicking Baba,” Steve reprimanded. “We’ll get there with plenty of time to spare, baby. The fish aren’t going to swim away.”

“They might,” Bucky teased.

“Nooooo!”

“Buck, c’mon.”

Bucky grinned mischievously and gave you ticklish kisses on your face before helping you off the bench. “I’m only kidding, angel. Let’s get you in the car and buckled up while we wait for Dada.”

After what felt like a million hours, you were finally at the aquarium. Your daddies went over some safety rules while you were still in the car and once you showed that you understood, it was go time.

There were so many exhibits to discover. The tanks seemed to go on forever, all with different species of fish, snails, crabs, turtles, and other animals that you’d never seen before.

The aquarium offered something for the whole family. Still a science nerd, Bucky enjoyed reading the information cards placed by the tanks. Some of the animals and their habits reminded him so much of the aliens he read about in his sci fi novels. Steve was keeping a mental note of the animals he wanted to draw for you later. He even took pictures of a few to serve as a reference. Meanwhile, you practically had your nose pressed on the glass, just admiring the fish with an overwhelming sense of wonder.

When you saw something especially cool, you’d tug on the sleeve of your nearest daddy and point. You couldn’t just witness something so special and not share it. One of the best moments was when you pointed out a scuba diver in the large tank to your Dada. The diver noticed you and started a game of rock, paper, scissors through the glass.

One of the safety rules for the day was that you had to either wear a leash backpack or hold a daddy’s hand the whole time. In the beginning, you chose to hold hands, but then you switched to the backpack for more freedom(and because your daddies either walked too slowly or had no idea which tanks were ones to stop and stare at and which ones just needed a quick glance).

You could’ve stayed at the aquarium forever, but eventually it was time to go home. Steve and Bucky could tell you were getting sleepy. You got a little more clumsy, often getting tangled in your backpack leash, and asked them to hold you more often. Your daddies suspected that some of the requests to be carried had nothing to do with needing to see from a higher point, and much to do with your tired legs.

“This was the last tank, bubba. Now we’re going to the gift shop and then going home, okay?” Steve said.

You sighed. “Okay, Dada. Can I take a picture of the jellyfish first? Please?”

“Yes you can, baby. Good manners.” Steve held you still while you took a photo of the jellyfish tank with your camera.

As the three of you went to the gift shop, you asked Bucky to hold your camera so you could hold your hands behind Steve’s neck and place your head on his shoulder. He of course said yes. Your Baba also snapped a sneaky shot of Steve carrying sleepy little you using your camera.

You were practically already dozing off by the time you made it to the gift shop, but your daddies still went in and asked if you wanted anything to remember this trip by. You ended up leaving with a beluga whale plush, which you cuddled with the entire way home.

[zagreuses-art]

The fine Rank and File (or at least the rank) of the Ankh Morpork city watch! I've been figuring out my designs for them, and I wanted to put them in a lineup to see how they look beside one another. makes you realize how ridiculous the height difference between some of them is

[ID: three digital drawings of the Watch members, against a police lineup background with height marks and an ankh morpork city watch watermark and logo. The featured members are in order of height: Detritus, Dorfl, Carrot, Angua. then Reg Shoe, Visit, Colon, and Vimes. finally, Nobby, Cheery, Buggy Swires and Wee Mad Arthur. they are all wearing variations on the watch uniform of brass colored armor, chainmaille, leather boots or sandals, and a skirt of studded leather straps. end ID]

more detailed description of the designs under the cut

First drawing: standing at over 8 feet is Dorfl. He is a grey-green troll with a very muscled top heavy build, patches of moss on his skin, and angular features. He is wearing oversized armor with pauldrons, one with sergeant's stripes painted on it, and scale mail underneath. the Piece Maker (a siege weapon crossbow) is strapped to his back. second, standing at 7 foot 4 inches is Dorfl, a reddish Golem made out of patchwork clay, with a overall gingerbread man look, and glowing red eyes. he is only wearing a breastplate, and he has his sergeant's stripes painted on his arm. Third at 6 foot 6 inches is Carrot. He is a redheaded white human, with a sturdy build, round face, and a cheerful smile. he has a captains pip pin in the collar of his shirt and his armor is visibly shinier than all the other's. fourth at 6 foot 2 inches is Angua. she is a white human with lots of very light blonde hair and slightly pointed ears. Her armor has straps at the shoulder rather than being one piece, and she is wearing her badge on a collar. (end of first drawing)

Second drawing: first, standing at 6 ish feet is Reg Shoe. He is a green zombie with a hunched posture and several missing chunks and lines of stitching visible, most noticeably the right half of his mouth has no lips, exposing his teeth. he wearing a tattered and patched flow-y white shirt under his armor, which is also the strap style, and there is a red ribbon in his long-ish dirty blonde hair. second at 5 foot 9 inches is constable Visit. He is a brown skinned human, with slicked back 80's business guy hair and a slightly strained smile. He is wearing a very crisp white shirt under his armor as well as khaki pants and a Omnian turtle necklace. he is clutching a bundle of pamphlets. Third at 5 foot 6 inches is Colon. He is a white human with a heavy-set build, a mustache, and a large bald spot. his armor has sculpted muscles in it and he is wearing sandals. Fourth at barely 5 foot 4 inches is Vimes. He is a white human with messy greying brown hair, and a five o-clock shadow, he looks a bit like house era Hugh Laurie. along with his armor he is wearing a red cloak and a sword. (end of second drawing)

Third Drawing: First, standing at 4 foot nothing, is Nobby Nobbs. he is a white-ish human with vitiligo spots, several suspiciously red or green patches of skin, and very scruffy black hair and a five o-clock shadow. he is smoking a cigarette and has several dog ends behind his ear. he has managed to tarnish his armor. second, at 3 foot 4 inches is Cheery. She is a white dwarf with a stocky build, blonde hair and a blond, braided beard. she has some burns on her arms, ears, and forehead, and is missing her eyebrows. she has a full lentgh leather skirt rather than pants. third, at 7 inches is Buggy Swires. he is a brown skinned Gnome, with grey hair and pointed ears. he is not wearing armor, but instead a rain cloak. next to him is his pigeon, which carries his badge and is a foot tall. Finally, at 4 inches, is Wee Mad Arthur. he is a blue nac mac feegle with red hair. he is in a watch uniform with a kilt, and is carrying his badge like a shield on his back, unlike the others he has a dynamic aggressive stance, rather than standing straight up. (end of third picture)

background of all drawings: a lineup height marker background, with the initials AM (ankh) CW and the city seal in the top right corner. the city seal is two hippos on a shield, with a tower between them. they are in shades of copper or bronze, as is the overall color palate of the drawings. (end of ID)

[goodqualitygroblin]

Foreshadowing/Parallels Concerning Mikey's Mystic Powers

Mikey is my boy, and I keep thinking about how well the show set up his role as a mystic warrior in the movie. I don’t know if someone else has made a compilation of foreshadowing Mikey’s mystic skills, but I figured I’d make one just in case. (These examples are from conversations I’ve had with friends, posts I’ve seen online, and my own observations.)

The first episode has the most references to Mikey’s innate sensitivity to mystic things. When April falls through the portal, Mikey is the one to stop and look at the mystic symbol and identify it first.

Then after Raph fails to draw the symbol, "the artist" steps in and opens the portal on his first try.

After the turtles have taken mystic weapons from Draxum’s lab, none of the weapons activate until April gets knocked down.

I like to interpret this as our first hint as to where the Hamato Clan’s mystic power originates: trusting and protecting your loved ones. While trying to protect April, Mikey is the first to discover the mystic powers of his weapon, followed by Raph and Leo.

The next example is less foreshadowing and more demonstrating Mikey’s trust in his brothers, which again, is critical for the Hamato Ninpo. In “Bug Busters,” not long after Raph unlocks his hologram power to save Leo, the next scene parallels it. Donnie and Mikey are trying to escape Big Mama, and Donnie tells Mikey to “let go” while flying high above the street, and Mikey immediately does so.

The next example is a loosey-goosey interpretation, but it made me happy when I noticed it. In “The Ancient Art of Ninja Hide and Seek,” Mikey tries to sneak up on Splinter by using “lights-off jitsu.” After watching the movie, it’s a fun parallel to see him with his hands up and the yellow sun above, not unlike the bright portal he opens in the future.

Then he tries the clap again later in the episode and succeeds. I really enjoy this paralleling his multiple attempts to use his mystic hands in the movie before he finally does open a portal. This boy is determined when he sets his mind to it.

In “Many Unhappy Returns,” Mikey accurately predicts when the Shredder will reappear. It was probably just a lucky guess, but I like to imagine that Mikey used some kind of mystic sense.

Then there's the classic boat dock scene with Mikey throwing a whole cargo boat. It’s a whole new level of his weapon’s power, which is followed by Raph doing something similar in manipulating his hologram.

The next example of more explicit foreshadowing comes in my favorite episode: “The Clothes Don’t Make the Turtle.” While the turtles are all excited to try on clothes, Mikey resists the group’s enthusiasm three times before they all are finally convinced that something is wrong.

He also leads the first attempt to break the spell through self-acceptance.

Even though it doesn’t work, it might have worked eventually, judging by Hypno’s comment later in the episode.

Aaaand that’s all I got for now! I’ll add more if I notice any other foreshadowing/hints/parallels. :)

[indieyuugure]

I have a question- so, I wanna draw an oc in the 2012 tmnt art style?- TEACH ME HOW THIS WORKS PLEASE I CANT FIGURE THIS OUT ;^;

(not really a question but still)

Of course! Okay, so the first thing to recognize is that 2012 is a 3D modeled tv show, so mimicking the style is different than mimicking a 2D style like Rise, 03 or 87.

Obviously you can just trace a scene from the show to get it perfect, but since you’re trying to apply the style to an OC you’re going to need more detailed instructions. So for the sake of the argument “you can draw in any style so long as you apply the ‘12 turtle’s design”, I’ll use my 2012 OC, Vince.

Alright so Vince looks like he’s from TMNT 2012, but why? The first thing is that he looks blocky. 2012 uses more basic geometry in their designs, which is probably the most noticeable on the turtles’ arms and faces.

Here you can see I’ve broken down the key geometry, points and curves that sell the 2012 style. Out of all styles, I believe this one is the most important to use base shapes when drawing the character because they aren’t just guides, but also part of the finalized design.

A few other things to keep in mind are some very small details that will really complete the look are the eyes, the way fabric meets skin, the way thing ridges are drawn and freckles. 2012 uses a very anime-esque styling to it’s eyes. The eyes have a colored iris, a black pupil and a white shine that typically overlaps the edge of the iris and sclera. Adding a small ridge to show the thickness of fabric is also very iconic 2012. You can see this the most on the joint wraps the turtles wear. Thin ridges (like the ridge along the turtles’ shells) are never drawn as perfect points, unless it’s something like Shredder’s tekko-kagi blades. Just square off the edge of a non-bladed ridge, and it’ll look much closer. And lastly, freckles in this style are never circles for some reason, idk, but if you look at Mikey’s face his freckles are little ovals.

Hopefully you found this helpful! 2012 is a very hard style to draw! I highly recommend using basic geometry when drawing in this style to aid you because of it’s complex angles and 3D-ness.

[datesinredink]

Yan turtles (rottmnt) with an m/c that’s allergic to reptiles/turtles? Idk I just think it would be funny (not Donnie trying to get m/c into getting injections to help the allergy-)

ANON I AM SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG BCIRBIFUNUIEH

Super duper sorry i ended up procrastinating really hard and i guess god took issue with that because he struck me down with multiple QAs and a Feelings crisis but the tests are over and I finally managed to sit down and finish Raph's part- seriously i struggled with him and mikey a lot but i guess it was kinda worth it in the end because Raph has an entire 110 more words to his part than the other three- hopefully it makes up for my lack of knowledge of his character. Enjoy!

Donnie

“My inspiration for this device was simplicity-”

Yeah you’re getting a hazmat suit until your allergies either magically disappear or he figures out some other solution

You’ll probably have to do a lot of tests, including possibly a blood draw but I’m no medical expert- since I headcanon Leo to be the medic he’ll probably end up helping too

After he finally puts the pieces together, he’ll start working with Leo to engineer a medicine to help suppress your allergic reaction, and maybe even be able to get rid of it entirely

Also anon you’re very right, you may be subjected to becoming the human pincushion of allergy shots while he figures it out. It’s safe. No it won’t kill you. Yes he made sure. Just, uh, maybe don’t ask your best friend their opinion on needles for a while….

In the meantime, he completely hates the current situation. He finally meets someone that he’s (mostly) fine with touching him, and they CAN’T TOUCH HIM without a HAZMAT SUIT. Just the worst. Awful times.

Normally, he’d have you around almost always, but, unfortunately, that’s currently not ideal.

Starts trying to keep things extra clean around the lair for you. Also everything that can be sanitized is sanitized. Good luck in the cleanliness prison after you get kidnapped later on.

The best about keeping distance, since he already wasn't super touchy before this whole situation. While he might tap you on the arm or something once or twice, it's nothing serious and you won't have a problem with him on that front.

Going back to the hazmat suit real quick, while it does do its job well, it's definitely not the most comfortable thing to wear, and you'll probably end up getting too hot pretty quick, so chances are you won't willingly be wearing it all too often. Donnie may occasionally force you to wear it, but otherwise you (usually) just... don't have to.

Leo

He’s the one who finds out you’re allergic. It was an accident he SWEARS. He only wanted to give you a pat on the arm when April first introduced you to them! How could he have known you’d get hives where he touched you?

At least he knows how to treat it. He managed to guide April through treating it, after which he sulked while rereading some Jupiter Jim comics.

Has a personal grudge against your immune system for daring to make you allergic to him. How dare your cells get mad about him.

When Donnie tells him that he might have “a fix, bro”, Leo jumps at the opportunity- oh thank god, he can finally hug you!

…Doesn’t mean he’s not super bad at focusing on actually working on it. Don’t worry, he’ll fix it eventually, just have a little patience.

Honestly, this is your chance to BOOK IT away from them, because none of them are as clingy as they will be after your allergies are cured/suppressed, which gives you more time to leave New York before things go from bad to worse.

Anyway, Leo’s about as clingy as he can be without physically clinging onto you for hours on end. Constantly hanging around you, like a ghost haunting their killer, except you’re not the one who kills people.

He might end up using your allergy to try and manipulate you away from his brothers. Mikey keeps forgetting to keep distance, Donnie’s suffocating and makes you wear a hazmat suit, and Raph almost treats you like a sopping wet cat that he has to take care of, so why not just stay with him? 

As much as he likes to criticize Mikey for forgetting, sometimes, particularly early on, he gets a little too close, and your allergies flare up, and while he does genuinely feel kinda bad, he will exaggerate his remorse for sympathy from you. He genuinely does try and apologize for it later, and he probably portals you two somewhere nice and gets you a couple of trinkets you like or find useful.

Mikey

Absolutely heartbroken!

His love is allergic to him! This is awful!

2nd most panicked when they first find out. Is their new friend ok? Did they mess up?

If you have a low tolerance for pain/allergic reaction symptoms and cry a little he probably will too. High empathy, man…

He’s really understanding after everything’s resolved and they figure out you’re allergic to them. He tries his best to keep a fair amount of distance between you and him, but he tends to naturally be physically affectionate, so there may be a slight adjustment period. He really doesn’t mean harm though.

He occasionally tries to bring you something from the mystic city that he thinks would be safe- a small figurine, maybe a sketchbook if you also like doing art, if he manages to bargain for/steal a piece of jewelry, he’ll also give that to you.

As I mentioned before, Mikey’s pretty big on physical touch, but since that’s off limits (for now) he’ll try to show you affection in any other way he can think of

Mostly quality time. He likes to take you with him when he explores through the sewers/city to spraypaint a couple of blank walls, and he’ll probably get you to try it too, and regardless of your skill level he’ll tell you it’s great

After Donnie and Leo finish making the cure, Mikey squeezes the LIFE out of you- he doesn’t mean to practically strangle you, but he’s fairly strong and he got excited, so he does feel a little bad afterwards.

Will decorate the hazmat suit Donnie gave you if you let him. He'll put stickers on it that match his and draw fun patterns that may or may not relate to him in some way. Maybe the spots he has, or the face on his knee pads. It's pretty endearing, even if his brothers may occasionally glare at him. In Mikey's opinion, if they're really that jealous, they should add something themselves.

Raph

And the award for most paranoid goes to….

Ok but really, he’s the most overbearing about it. This probably isn’t a surprise, but it’s still something I've gotta mention.

You don’t really have to worry about Donnie making you wear the hazmat suit- he gets it, not a fun sensory experience- other than a couple stand-out occasions, but you will have to convince Raph fairly often that you’ll be fine without it.

To be fair, it’s partially because he also forgets not to touch you sometimes, and while he’s better about it than Mikey and most of the time Leo, he’s also self-aware and protective enough that he’d rather be safe than sorry.

If you’re having an allergic reaction, he’ll either get Leo/Donnie/April to help you, or go find the hazmat suit Donnie made him a while ago when Splinter got sick and then help you himself

There’s a chance he might not do great though, as he’s not always the best under pressure and tends to panic when the people he loves are hurt or in some sort of extreme situation, especially when it comes to you (seriously, he treats you like a porcelain doll), but you can be reassured that he’ll do his absolute best to make you safe and comfortable.

Feels terrible after, pampers you a lot after the ordeal. Every time, not just the first few.

If he wasn’t the one who caused it, then he’s definitely pissed at whichever of his brothers made your allergies flare up. He won’t kill them, and he won’t lose it and drop kick them into tomorrow (yet. If they ever intentionally trigger your allergies he might snap some bones) but there will be a noticeable irritation and tension for at least the next few weeks between him and them.

He’s super excited after Donnie and Leo finish the allergy shots! I personally headcanon him to be the second touchiest of the brothers (Mikey being the most touchy, of course) so there’ll be a lot more casual touch between you two after. Hugs, headpats, you get the idea. If you try to tell him to stop, he’ll be very upset, though doing his best to understand, he will try to respect your wishes.. Before going right back to it after a week tops. Sometimes he genuinely does forget, after all, he does have a fair amount on his plate, but sometimes he does intentionally wait until he thinks he can get away with it again before jumping right back to how things were before. He’ll vehemently deny it, but no matter what happens, you’ll likely never really get him to stop for an extended period of time.