I Am Confusion???? A Switch Of What? Like…Nintendo? Or Like…a Blade? I Mean I Do Have Three Swords.

“I dare you to burn holes into me; I will bleed love and kindness from all of them, and you will drown in the things you tried to end in me.”

— Eliot Knight, Believe It

Hwgsvsksncbchsismxmfidhsnxodjebdkdnsfajxibsj!!

DUDES CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY! I GOT HEADCANNONS YALL !

AND THEY ARE HITTING IN THE FEELS REALLY HARD AND NOW I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THEM!

*sounds of just flustered pained fangirl noises*

Howdy T'Witch! It makes me so happy that you got your blog all up and designed! Those are big days and I’m happy that it looks so good! Hopefully you think so too!

I say that your writing requests were open and I’d love to pick your brain on some light angst if you’re up for it! No worries if you ain’t because hey understandable. The holidays be crazyyyyyy 🤪

But maybe to something to think about if you’re bored and whatever. But I wanted to ask on how do you think the Bayverse Boys would respond to you (y/n) getting amnesia and forgetting about them completely for whatever reason for how ever long? Do you think they’d try to rejog their memory or try to love them better with the chance of a fresh start? Or something else entirely. I am curious and I’d love to hear your thoughts if you’ve got the time and energy. Thanks for existing!

Hey Anon! (It’s weird to type this and have you not actually be an anon lmao)

I am very happy I finally have my blog up and running how I like, it finally feels like a little home to me. Thank you for noticing! 🫂🫂🫂

Thank you so much for sending an ask, I’m going to have fun with this one! I’m giving them a happy ending though, cause I can’t write angst and not give my boys a good ending. (Also completely unedited and not proof read lol)

Leonardo

The worry and anxiety he feels in the pit of his stomach like he swallowed a lead weight is one thing, but the chest-clenching heartbreak when you shriek at the sight of him and had no recollection of his existence is another.

He keeps a stoic face once you’ve calmed down and while explaining who he is to you, but really this poor guy is absolutely gutted. It takes so much of him to keep a straight face.

Still a bit of a helicopter, using any subtle opportunity to jog your memory of himself. He’ll make a cup of tea for you in the exact way he did on your first date, subtly comment on your outfit when he recognizes it’s something he bought you, anything he could think of to hopefully remind you.

This man does not sleep the entire time. You aren’t sleeping in his bed, how could he anyway? Once he is sure you are fully asleep, he comes to check on you. Listen to see if you talk in your sleep, mumbling about memories or just in case a nightmare decides to haunt you.

When he can’t check on you or do really anything else, he’s meditating in order to keep his emotions in line. He’s completely destroyed, so meditating for hours on end is the only way he can keep himself in check.

Although he’s snappy, irritable, and driving everyone but you away, what Leo really needs is one of his brothers to ignore the attitude and just stand there and let him get it out. By the time he’s done he’s already apologized a hundred times, he’s just lost and broken hearted.

Out of all his brothers, Raph is probably the one that cracks him and gets him to just spit it out. They all know what’s going on and how much Leo’s hurting from it all, but he still needs to let it out. Raph can handle the attitude with ease, brushing it aside and letting Leo get himself together

After what feels like an eternity, you gain your memory back at the most random of times while you happened to be watching him practice his kata. When you start babbling memories excitedly, he picks you up in a hug and cries into you.

It doesn’t matter if anyone’s watching, he’s crying and just so grateful that you remember who he is. Weeping tears of joy and the bottled anxiety finally burst as he holds you. Bear with this poor guy, it’s been a ride for both of you really.

Raphael

This poor guy is so surprised and in shock when you don’t remember him, he thinks you’re playing some sort of prank on him at first.

“Heh- babe, c’mon…don’t joke around like dat”

Once it hits him that this isn’t a prank or joke, you genuinely do not know who he is, Raph practically shuts down.

The love of his life doesn’t remember who he is, even looks at him like he’s the monster he felt he was before meeting you. It breaks his heart so much he locks himself away for a day or two, unfortunately leaving you more confused.

When you start wanting to be near him- no, needing to be near him, is when he starts coming around. He found you pacing back and forth in front of his bedroom door like a cat waiting to enter a closed off room one night.

You couldn’t explain it, but you have this invisible pull and primal need to be near him somehow. To be close, even touching him. Although you don’t remember why, you just know you need to,

Raph starts coming out of his room and trying to act normal, but when his brothers look him in the face an see how red and raw his eyes are, the dark circles, and the heartbreak in his eyes, they know it’s just an act but wisely choose not to comment.

He catches you staring at him while he’s working out, chuckling as you bashfully try to shy away. He doesn’t tease or joke though, instead encourages you to come watch

“I miss my favorite spotting partner,” Raph admits, hoping that will help jog your memory a little. It doesn’t outright, but you do find yourself already knowing how to spot him.

After a few days of you following Raph around like a lost puppy, your memory finally comes crashing back to you when Raph slipped the boxing gloves on you for practice.

Relief. So much relief it washes over Raph like a tidal wave that nearly knocks him off his feet. He holds you and kisses you, telling you repeatedly how grateful and happy he is you have your memory and you’re here. The tears will come at night while the two of you are in bed for the night, but he holds you and everything is okay.

Donatello

Initiate full on analytical mode. He is immediately going through a thousand different scenarios and cures in his head, he almost forgets that *you forgot* who he was all together, so his babbling did nothing to calm you down.

Even with all his knowledge and abilities, it still doesn’t negate the overwhelming emotions he feels when you don’t recognize him. It hurts, makes it hard for Donnie to even breathe, but he hides it behind his science and research.

Sitting in front of his computer for days on end in between checking up on your, it becomes almost like an obsession for Donnie to get your memory back. At the risk of his own health and wellbeing, he does not stop.

From using scents he knows you enjoy, like that cologne you bought for him as a gift or your favorite body wash, tasting your favorite coffee or the tiramisu Donnie bought for the two of you on a date once.

Let’s put on that movie we watched on that one Valentine’s weekend; you were obsessed with it for weeks!

Oh, what if Donnie took you to that rooftop the two of you saw a comet in the night sky once? It was absolutely beautiful, but wasn’t nearly as beautiful as you, he confided.

Countless hours of research keep Donnie from sleeping, honestly at one point contemplating how he could just straight main-line caffeine into his blood stream to stay awake.

Without warning one night, you come into his lab and demand he sleep. Not ask, not coax, you demand Donnie to get in bad with you and get some sleep. He questions if you’ve finally gotten your memory back, but sadly no. And he’s crushed. But you still demand he lay down in bed with you.

Crawling into bed with you with awkward limbs, Donnie is surprised that you lay down exactly as you always do with him. Even without memory, it was like your body still remembered how you fit together.

Quiet tears fall as Donnie holds onto you, sleep mercifully taking him into a deep slumber. Guilt crawled its way into your stomach while trying to sleep, wishing that your memory would just return so you could stop all of this.

Waking up in the morning, you blinked with shock as you look at Donnie- looked at him like you knew him again. And you did. You had woken up with your memory by some miracle.

Kissing and hugging you with love and relief, Donnie can’t keep his hands off of you or keep the tears from smudging his glasses. It was all so hard to believe while it was happening that now it was over, it felt like the end of a tornado.

The two of you decide to sleep in a little longer, only because Donnie could barely hold his eyes open. Frankly, sleep was probably what you needed too after all this.

Michelangelo

Confused. Downright, no jokes confused. How could you not remember him so suddenly? Time just doesn’t erase like that right?

Mikey asks Donnie a million and one questions, repeating or re-wording them or giving scenarios. It drives his brother mad, but he tries to be lenient because Donnie knows how terrified his younger brother is.

He caters to you in every way; offers to get you a drink, make you something to eat, get you a pillow, it becomes a little overwhelming, but you don’t know how to tell him to stop.

When Mikey tries to kiss you and pull away, it was like you could practically hear the way his heart shatters like glass. But he hides it with a smile and flirts, telling you he won you over once, he could do it again.

This is when he starts to flirt with you like he did before the two of you started dating, but with far more strategy and knowledge. Comments about how sweet you are while making your favorite chocolate pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream

Tells you how amazing you look in that shirt or those pants, mostly because he was the one to buy them.

He’ll give you your favorite kind of gifts; favorite flowers, candy, stuffed animals, anything he can think of giving you and jog your memory. Each time it doesn’t work, he’s crushed a little bit more, but he keeps trying.

Plays movies that you and Mikey watched together, shared music playlists the two of you built together over the period of your relationship, and whatever else he could possibly think of. But it still didn’t work.

When you aren’t anywhere near to see, Mikey with let himself cry for a moment out of frustration and sadness that you don’t remember him. It hurts, but by the time you are near he has a smile back on his face.

He thought you were sleeping one night when you found him crying down one of the sewer tunnels away from the lair. The sight broke your heart, which for some reason jogged your memory. Rushing to hug and kiss him, you damn near scared Mikey out of his shell.

“Angelcakes, you remember!?” Mikey shouts, picking you up and spinning you in a massive hug. Thank the pizza Gods, he had you back!

Taglist

@silverwatergalaxy @thelaundrybitch @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos

@yorshie @truffle-reblogs @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus @thepinkpanther83

@avery73 @luckycharms1701 @tmnt-tychou @suksiskovaikkakuuseen @milykins @justalotoffanfiction

Hey, stop scrolling.

Everyone who is reading this: I’m so glad you’re alive. I’m so proud of you. You are loved. I’m here. Don’t give up, we’re almost there.

Pass it on.

My reactions after reading this

Makes me think of a poem from a friend actually🤔

Vent piece, AU, Rise Leo, Angst

It’s cold in here. Even in pants, sneakers, and a hoodie, the chill of the planetarium still eats at him a little. He’s okay with it, though. It’s not quite enough for brumation, which is the important part. He doesn’t need to completely lose track of everything. He just needs… peace.

And, as he lies across the floor while staring up at the star-covered ceiling, he’s sure he’s found it. He’s certain that, if only for a moment or two, he is finally allowed to rest. Finally able to think of something else than his work, his constant running around, his never-ending parade of personas. Hell, he can almost feel himself drift into nothingness as the light music he hears cradles him to near sleep.

It's always nice, always comfortable, always –

He blinks as he hears rustling. Someone sits in a chair in front of where he’s lying on the floor. And while he wants to call it an accident, his nostrils tell him it's not.

The scent of subtle soap and warm skin. The rustle of pants as legs are crossed and brought apart again. The chair squeaks at the attempt to settle in it, but nervousness is keeping its current occupant from getting comfortable.

He wishes he could say the same. Unfortunately, the cold has a good grip on him and while he’s not brumating, he definitely feels sluggish.

Not that you’ll attack him. You have no way to defend yourself save for a can of pepper spray — the thing smells absolutely vile — and from the presentations he’s seen you give, you don’t have a mean bone in your body, which just… helps.

“Want to stay for the video?”

The thing that impresses him is the way you’ve just… made this look as casual as possible while letting him know several things.

One, you know he’s there. How you caught him when he always takes for the grates the second you have a new group is a mystery — there’s hours, a schedule, and he’s got it all down — but you did. Second, you’ve known for a while. The lack of inflection in your tone indicates experience and redefines your nervousness as one of casual approach. Three, … he just wants to turn his brain off. He wishes he couldn’t understand or care about how an employee knows about his presence and hasn’t called the authorities yet. He knows he could deal with them, certainly if he were a little warmer, but this? This goddamn circus? He’s here to get off work, not…

He sighs. Shuffles. He owes you an answer. He just…

“Knock on the back of my seat for a yes.”

He looks up, away from the stars to you. Your back is facing him, then again he’s in a weird position that puts his head near the seat. He could say nothing, not even knock and watch you squirm. He could crack a joke, say something that might make you laugh or groan as he attempts socializing.

But right now… he just can’t be assed.

He reaches up and knocks against the plastic. You just say thank you and stay there for a bit longer before you get up to rummage for something near the projector. There’s shuffling in the chair you were just seated in before he hears you take off for the doors.

Time for the next group. He wonders if he should stay. If he should do what he usually does and skedaddle before anyone notices there’s a bum on the floor. But when everyone steers clear of the seat, therefore him, he has to wonder what’s going on. What you did to manage it so that, when the lights fade out and he hears rustling, he knows it’s you.

You don’t speak. The video is a speaking one after all. It does make him wonder, though. Even long after the video’s done and he’s left to stare at the stars again, he wonders what just happened and if he should care. He’s not complaining, though, not after getting to finally see the visuals, albeit from an interesting angle.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It doesn’t stop him from returning, either.

It’s been a week. He’s debated whether or not it’s worth risking his neck, his family’s neck over someone knowing he’s using the planetarium as his way to relax. He’s wondered if he shouldn’t tell the fam, or at least his little brother, to make sure it’s safe.

But that would mean letting everyone know. That would mean having to deal with that mess and he honestly… doesn’t want to.

He's tired. He’s done. His brothers, even his dad, have completely drained him dry of anything he could remotely care about. So he goes without hesitating.

He navigates lunch hour and watches the shift change. He flinches as your loud coworker laughs and jokes, reminding him of himself in the most obnoxious way. So much so that he half-wants to punch them for being so annoying. He waits on the floor instead, though, and is grateful when you join him the second they leave, leaving him to knock on your chair.

This behavior is more befitting his twin. He doesn’t care.

“Sorry for that. For what it's worth, the next group should all be teenagers, so no crying children.”

He knows. Presentation hours are for classes. Field trips. And while you don’t necessarily struggle during them, depending on the class, it can get disgustingly loud. Even when teenagers are involved.

He knocks on the chair again. You laugh a little before sighing, “I’m sorry I have to ask you to go. I am getting a break later on, though. If you want to stick around until then, I’ll be happy to show you some interesting features.”

And the tridactyl hand he’s been using to knock on your seat grips his hoodie as he thinks, debates.

He shouldn’t. It’s dangerous. No matter how innocent you are, the mere knowledge of who he is could ruin your existence and his. He’s not here to make friends.

… But the company is nice.

His hand hesitates for a second longer before he knocks. You then hush him away and he goes to the vent where he watches you work and barely get to breathe when you get two classes back to back. And he quietly lets himself in after all the hubbub, laying on the floor as you sit with a breath into the chair he knocks on.

The fact that it gets him a chuckle almost makes him smile. The fact that hears you tap the seat next to you worries him.

“Come on. Best seat in the house,” you tell him, though, and while it doesn’t convince him, it does make him move, make him join you even as the seat creaks under his weight. It has him making sure that you can’t see his face or his hands as he sits next to you. Not that you seem to care, though, as your eyes are fixed on the ceiling and your hands fiddle with a small contraption you immediately bring forward and click on once he’s there.

The lights turn off. The domed ceiling goes from evening to night, showing the stars. And, with another click, lines start drawing themselves across the artificial sky, connecting the stars into groups and images slowly appear, making him blink.

Constellations. He’s heard you talking about those. But thanks to the light pollution, the most he’s been able to spot are the brightest stars and, if he’s lucky, the Summer Triangle. Now, he’s finally able to see them.

He almost gets up. He doesn’t. The moment feels too sacred to break. You seem to notice the shift, though, as he can hear you smile when you speak.

“This is the Greek one, which was eventually taken over by the Romans. There are more, though. The Babylonians had an incredible star chart they left behind, explaining what they saw and why it was important to them. The Mayans had one also, and it's been suggested that other Central American cultures might have either used the same map or had their own variations to it. The most interesting one, though, is the Asian one. Western influence was scarce, so their system works very differently even today."

… Ah. He gets it, now. It's almost funny, too, and enough to make him smile. Make almost reach out in the hopes that you understand that you either don't need to share or that he's grateful. He can't do either, though. No matter how much the world wants to think that there's space for everyone, the fact that he's underground, that the Hidden City exists tells him otherwise. He can't let himself do anything but speak, and breaking the silence feels like blasphemy.

"… Thank you."

He still does it, though. Not for his sake but yours. You need to know he appreciates it, even if some of it is going completely over his head.

"No problem."

Because it's worth the softness that invades your tone. Even if it requires more effort than he has energy for, the payoff gives him just a little more than he thought he'd be given. And he likes that. God, does he.

"Anything you want to see?"

"The star map without the images?"

Because if this is all it takes to get this to work as you click and the images disappear, then he's more than willing to try.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unfortunately, winter does not seem to agree.

Brumation becomes a problem. His hoodie is no longer enough, but wearing anything else might hinder his movements in the vents. He can't afford to lose the agility, but he knows that, if he's not careful, he might knock out.

Something you seem to notice as well.

Within a month of winter starting, he finds a blanket waiting outside the vent. His careful thanks only get him even more wrapped inside the surprisingly thin yet cozy fleece blanket as you fuss over him while never once looking up as he's asked you to. It doesn't help that every time, you simply smile after he tells you that he's comfortable, tapping a hand against his plastron.

"Good. Wouldn't want you to pass out."

Which only reminds him of what he's doing and how… he's treating this entire relationship.

No doubt you're getting bored. Annoyed, even. Not that you've told him as such and he doubts he'd ever hear you complain, but he doesn't think he's being fair in any way, certainly considering that he's been keeping this up for weeks.

He doesn't hate you. He hopes you know that. It's just… he comes here when everything is just too much. And you pampering him… is just part of it, now.

"Hold?"

"Yeah."

You joining him on the floor between presentations as he buries his face into your side. Him whimpering, trying not to chirp or do anything that would sound remotely strange as he lets you talk about whatever planet has caught your attention or whatever paper you're working on this week. And you chuckling, even laughing sometimes as he does or tries to either give you advice or ignore you. It's all part of the thing that makes him feel a little better, a little stronger by the time he leaves. It's all part of something that makes him feel safe even if he barely says anything.

Because by the time he gets to you, there's nothing left for him to give.

The silence as his eyes burn almost deafens him. He feels you move and almost refuses to let you get away only to realize he's too weak, too slow thanks to the cold to hold onto anything. The cold, the sluggishness he'd fought so hard to find becomes his enemy as you disappear and reappear to help him up and out the doors, your blanket covering him up like a cloak to cover his face. And it's not any better when he steps outside and winter stakes its claim on him and the only thing he can concentrate on is your voice.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The amount of research you have to ingest in the following hours is insane. You figured something of the sort was going to happen, certainly with how closed off he was being, but you'd hoped to avoid any catastrophe involving your new friend.

Alas, from the way he behaves, you should have called this. From his self-destructive behavior, you should have known that he would drive himself to hypothermia, leaving you to figure out how to sort this mess. And that unfortunately means no more secrets.

… You think it's hypothermia. When you see the green skin and the three-fingered hands, you're no longer sure. Certainly when he's not shivering and the only thing that helps are the red crescents near his eyes and under his blue mask.

Blue mask… Where the hell is he from? And does it matter when this is probably going to ruin your relationship? He thrives on secrets and you… Well, you just ruined a whole lot of that trying to save his life after he broke, didn't you?

Either way, he's safe. He'll be alright in a few hours. He just needs to get to a decent body temperature, which he is safely getting to while bundled up in your bed. He seems to have an internal body temperature, after all, just… one lower than yours.

Part of you worries as you try not to hover. The other knows better and simply keeps you busy with making dinner, and you can't be happier with the meal you chose as you let the pea soup simmer. You work on making something warm to drink along with it, too, hoping that he'll be okay with some Chai.

Then again, after an hour, you wonder if he'll be alright in general as you dare enter the room with the food and drink on a tray.

You can hear him breathing. That's much, much better than earlier. The fact that he doesn't really acknowledge you doesn't surprise you, either. If anything, the fact that he's looking at you as you set the tray down is the biggest anomaly. He doesn't follow you. He has too little energy to even begin caring, which you can't blame him for. So this — this is new. And concerning when he doesn't sit up upon seeing the food.

Guilt? A need to hide? The mask and the fact that you've never seen anything of him until now tell you it's the latter. He might not have had any energy, but he did keep you from something, likely only draining him further. It's why you hadn't fought him when he'd asked for your presence on the floor. He needs it, craves a presence he doesn't have to explain everything to. And you have been for the past three months. Something you find absolutely heartbreaking.

"I made some soup and chai. Hope you like it."

And more heartbreaking still is the way he grabs your wrist as you attempt to leave.

You turn to him. Let him pull at your wrist and have you sit on the edge of the bed. He does not let go, though, instead nearing you and settling against your back, curling up there with his shell to the door.

Even if he didn't refuse your offer of getting on your lap before you sit on your bed so that he can, you know it's for protection. It's not the first time he does it, either, even if it's completely unconscious. He cares. More than he lets you or anyone else know. And you're almost willing to bet that's what's breaking him.

He loves. He's just… so tied up in whatever else he has to do that it's not showing properly.

You carefully, sweetly touch his head, something he welcomes with a stretch of the neck and a quiet whimper. You smile as he relaxes, using your lap as a resting spot, and tears no longer in his eyes. He doesn't sleep, not quite, but he chirps, trills, and nudges your hand if you so much as stop petting him. Like a cat, he refuses to let you go until he's had his fill and you're honestly very much fine with it, certainly when, after enough coaxing, you manage to get him to sit and eat.

In fact, the only thing that bothers you is his phone the second it starts ringing, prompting you to fiddle with his hoodie and collect the phone to see who it is.

Another turtle. This one red and massive. Raph is the name on screen. Doesn't stop you from wanting to throw the phone across the room or shutting it down before you resume feeding and petting the one you know to be a slider.

They're supposed to be tolerant to cold. Resistant to brumation. You wonder how badly he's been worn down for this to happen. You also hate the fact that it's making you feel almost violently protective to the point where you want to lash out at the other turtle for treating your friend like this.

… Maybe you should have taken that call. Just to know his name. Then again, you don't want to ruin the trust between the both of you, no matter how little there is. He is at his weakest and he doesn't need to be tested further.

"You think you're up for a warm bath now that you've eaten?"

Besides, from the nod you feel against your shoulder, you have other ways to communicate with him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

He doesn’t fight you. He doesn’t do much of anything, actually, as you scrub him clean. He only blinks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time once you’re done. He only lets you help him out of the bath and halfway back to your room when his hand lets go of yours and he — he looks away as if caught doing something, being somewhere he shouldn’t be.

“Where — where’s my stuff?”

And you realize why very quickly.

“Your clothes are in the bathroom and your phone is in my bedroom.”

“… Did I… get a call?”

“You did. From someone called Raph. I didn’t pick up.”

He’s awake. He’s coherent. His brain has finally caught up.

“… I have to go.”

And his thoughts and words hurt more than you’re comfortable with.

“Go get your clothes, then. I’ll go grab your phone.”

He looks at you with doubt, but turns around and heads back. You enter your bedroom and collect the blue jacketed phone before walking back to the bathroom where the slider is slipping on his hoodie, having already worked through his pants. You set said phone on the sink where he can see it as he works on his shoes next, unsurprised to hear him soon babbling to someone about trackers and getting someone off his ass for something. What surprises you is the tone. It’s animated, filled with a dramatic drawl and flair you had yet to hear from the slider. It’s nothing like you’ve heard, and it makes you realize just why he’s so drained, certainly when you hear “big bro” from his lips.

You cover your mouth. Your eyes burn. He ends the call and leaves your bathroom before anything else can happen, though and, just from the smile that meets you, you know you can’t cry.

“I’m afraid I gotta go. Someone’s breathing down my neck and might break the building if I don’t get going.”

There’s no point in it, after all.

“I’m… sorry I kept you.”

“You’re fine, sweetheart. Things just happen you know?”

“I guess. Do you –?”

“I know my way out. No worries.”

You’ve already lost him.

He gets to your living room where he takes to your window instead of your door. You feel your face hurt as you watch him expertly jump onto the sill.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Will I see you again?”

And it near contorts in pain as you watch his face, his persona break for a second, an instant in which you get your answer.

No. You won’t. You will never ever see the slider again. He’s no longer safe with you, and it has nothing to do with you.

“We’ll see.”

You watch him jump away. You feel your heart break. And you wonder if you could have done anything differently… while knowing there was never another option.

Birds

A small project dedicated to @sophiacloud28 and her story “A Shot in The Dark.” And inspired by this comment I was able to snag from her

I had so many thoughts and feelings working on this project, but the symbolism behind just birds and freedom in particular wouldn’t leave me alone. And you know what they say about a picture is worth a thousand words? Well here’s my attempt of a thousand words. So I present Miss Estrella as the Twite Bird

Flower meanings in Floriography

Iris: Valor, Wisdom, Faith

Ivy: Fidelity and Attachment

Picture progress because without fail, I always like the “before’” the actual final 😆

pspspspsps @mrabubu I haz something for ju🧡

I heard from the grapevine that you were feeling sad. Here's hopefully a little pick me up and a reminder that you're doing a good job, hon.

You are loved and appreciated exactly as and where you are now.

Your art inspired me, and continues to inspire me, (and I know I'm not the only one) the instant I see it, and I wanted to try and capture how this particular photo made me feel.

Hopefully I captured the vibes right 🍀😬🤞🏼

Fantabulous Art credit belong to: @mrabubu

Music Credit belongs to: Chris Grey and his song LET THE WORLD BURN

Edits done with: InShot pro

As always @doreen090 since you're the one who started it all

bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements

*through gritted teeth and weepy eyes*

It's fine, I'm fine.

I don't need a heart.

Toooootally fine

“Future you would be so proud on how far you’ve come.” …. “We all make mistakes, but that’s what makes you person.”

“You learn and develop over time, don’t be TOO hard on yourself okay??”

Uhhhhhh don’t think so, lemme go check the color wheel though. Be right back in a sec….

*sounds of papers rustling as I go digging through my notes and then comes back to push the gasses back up my nose with a small clear of my throat*

Dearest @saspas-corner, after consulting with my previous notes and past conversations, I’d like to state that you are still very much a Vintage Watermelon.

mutuals i am politely asking you what color i remind you of

*rolls hand with an authoritative air*

I was requested by @magicmike5000 to share my opinion about what I think of Mikey, and I simply can not refuse such an opportunity to rave about one of the most intricate and fascinating characters of TMNT franchise.

*pushes up glasses with a clearing of my throat* Behold the ramblings of an insane person:

*I love how Mikey is unapologetically himself at all times, in all things and in all places

*I think he’s an incredible asset to the team who is unfortunately underestimated and appreciated.

*I be always affectionately considered him to be the the cheese that holds this whole turtle pizza together and it just wouldn’t be the TMNT without him.

*Mikey has fascinating undeveloped and growing potential that is so unfairly unexplored.

*His simple pure goodness is far reaching and a total game changer which I absolutely adore.

*He’s one of those rare few good people and I genuine believe that he’s the type of person where the world is a better place simply because he’s in it

*Mikey is refreshingly emotionally intelligent, empathetic, spiritually intuitive, and is CANONLY the most suited for ninjitsu out of all of his brothers.

*He’s a subtle master at ninjitsu due to his flexibility and adaptability.

*Mikey is fascinating to study in action because due to his ADHD it allows him to react quickly and work with what he has within the environment.

*It doesn’t matter his size or strength (even though he is woefully under appreciated for his strength) m because he knows how to use energy and motion against his opponents on MANY different facets.

*Mikey also doesn’t even necessarily needs to be the smartest either because he knows how to read the situation and interact with people and situations of all types.

*Bottom line, I love Mikey and I personally affronted that he is so unexplored as a character. It’s a down right CRIME I tell y’all that he and I can’t be besties because I feel like we would vibe like none other🧡

WHAT ABOUT MIKEY

*tilts head with a confused smile*

Howdy there friend? What about Mikey hon?

I’m sorry but I am the confusion 👉🏼😅👈🏼