Serendipity247 - Blog Posts

Memory

RaphaelxReader

Warnings: Amnesia, Angst

(this is so tropey and self indulgent that I was almost too embarrassed to post it, thank you @the-cauldron-witch for giving me the stones. Apologies in advance. 😅)

"What are you to me?"

You freeze, your pen stopping mid-letter. For the last week you'd been trying to figure out how to answer if he asked, and you were still at a loss. 

Don't think for him, Donnie'd said, the memories are there, he just has to form the connections. They'll be stronger, and this will go faster, if you let him do that on his own.

He knows he shouldn't be asking, but every time he looks at you he feels like he's missing something important, and the way you look at him sometimes... he can't bear it. 

"We should, um," you clear your throat, looking very intentionally at the paper in front of you, "we should really focus on this analysis. The more data we can feed Donnie, the sooner he can figure out of there'll be any serious lasting consequences to this." 

"I'm missing three years of my life, I'd say that's pretty serious," he quips, humorlessly. You still haven't looked up at him. Jaw tight, measured breaths the only thing keeping your hand steady. You'd been keeping it together for the last two weeks, you couldn't break now. Least of all in front of him. 

Six hours trapped in a reinforced refrigeration truck. He only survived because of what little body heat you could offer, but you'd both nearly died. You woke a few days later, in the infirmary, your hands still raw and recovering from frostbite, but Raphael... didn't. 

For fifteen days, no one knew if he was going to survive. You didn't sleep. You couldn't eat. You wouldn't leave his side. The number of arguments you and Donatello had about you resting were in the double digits. He might lose his brother, he wasn't going to lose his best friend, too. The only way you agreed was by dragging the couch beside the cot Raphael was laying in.  

When he awoke he couldn't remember much of anything. Slowly, over the course of the next week, memories drifted back like smoke. He remembered his father, his brothers, April, his best friend, Casey, that dumb ass, Vern, but not you. The last three years are still a blur and none of it makes any sense.

He looks at you like a familiar face at the grocery store. Like something is digging at the back of his mind, something important, but he can't quite place you. He looks at you with curiosity, even attraction at times, but the love that you built and fought for, through death and distance, is gone.

You inhale, before the pen begins to move again in your hand. He reaches up and stops it. 

"Y/N..." The familiar feeling of his hand around yours, his thumb gently brushing the hollow of your wrist, makes your chest ache and your eyes fall closed. 

Tears glitter at the seam of your eyelashes, as the words slip free unbidden, barely louder than a whisper, "I miss you..." 

His hand stills, there it is again. That feeling, understanding just outside his reach, he's pulled to you and he doesn't know why. Everything you do affects him, and right now, you're crying, and he would tear the world apart to see you smile again. 

You inhale sharply, pushing yourself to your feet and pulling your hand from his, leaving the pen on the table, "I need to go."

"Y/N, wait," he begs, quickly, standing, "please, I-" 

All of your faculties are being used to keep you in one piece. You don't even have the ability to attempt any kind of excuse. "I'll be back tomorrow night. We can finish the analysis then." You shove your laptop into your bag and zip it closed, slinging it over your shoulder, before you rush out of the lair to echoes of him begging you to stay. 

You barely make it home before you collapse by the couch and weep. Three years. Three years just gone. 

You pull the deep red blanket he made you last winter off the couch and wrap yourself in it, in him, in his scent, because it's the only thing of his you can wrap around you. 

You let yourself cry. Mourn. Since he woke up, you've been shoving everything down and away. 

This is not about you, you'd scolded yourself. 

You'd reminded yourself it must be worse for him. He's probably terrified, losing so much time must be scary as hell. And you'd kept it together. Every time he looked at you with that question in his eyes. Every time he said "hey" and kept walking. Every time he touched you... and let go. 

But you've reached your breaking point

The feeling of his hand on your wrist was so familiar, and you were pulled back into lazy evenings in bed, the sunset painting your skin, as the two of you found any excuse not to get up for work. Comfortable, safe, warm. Things you haven't felt since before all of this started. And it was all too much. 

Violent sobs rip through your body, as your heart rages in your chest. It's not fair. You'd already been through so much. Fought so hard. And, for him... none of it happened. The bone-deep love and connection that had become so vital to both of you, was ripped away, and you were the only one left bleeding. 

You don't notice the soft landing beside the window. 

He just stares at you for a moment. He's overcome with the need to catch you up, hold you to him, and do whatever he has to do to fix it.

"It's important, isn't it," he says finally, quietly, "what I can't remember."

You gasp and stand up, clumsily, hands flying to your eyes and wiping pointlessly at tears as you turn away, "You shouldn't be here." 

"See, I'm not so sure about that." He steps forward slowly, "because..." His eyes fall on a carved wooden rose, and he pauses. A craftsman can always recognize their work. His eyes begin to scan the dimly lit room around him. 

No photographs, but all around him are little things made by his own hands, his favorite books and movies, this place doesn't just feel familiar. It feels like home. His eyes return to yours as he continues his approach.

You fall back against the wall as he advances, "Does Donnie know your here? You really shouldn't be out running around the city by yourself. You're still recovering, it's not... safe." Your breath hitches as your back hits drywall. 

He takes your hand gently, holding it just like before, caressing the inside of your wrist. Your jaw clenches, and your eyes sting. As he invades your personal space, your body reacts on instinct, head tilting up, hand against his chest, and his responds, gripping your waist and pulling you into him, breathing in deeply a scent just on the edge of his memory. 

"That's what I'm missing, isn't it," he asks softly, tears darkening the fabric around his eyes, "that's what this feeling is... love." 

Your heart twists, and you can't breathe. You're trembling with loss and grief and you don't want him to stop. 

"I love you," he says, almost in wonder, holding your gaze. 

It's like a bullet to the chest and all the air rushes out of you. Tears stream freely from your eyes and you draw a shuddering breath. "You don't even know me," you say, and you swear you don't mean for it to come out as bitter as it does.

He flinches, stepping back, but not releasing your hand. The shame and guilt are instantaneous. None of this is his fault. You look down and away, unable to meet his amber eyes, "I- I'm sorry," you manage, "I-"

"You're wrong."

You look up through tears as he steps forward again, pulling you closer. A hand comes up and cups your cheek as the one around your waist tightens, and he looks down at you with an intensity you haven't seen in weeks. 

"I may not know your face, or remember... anything about you, but..." His eyes close and his hand slides into your hair as he dips his head and touches his forehead to yours, "I remember... this," he continues breathlessly, gripping your hair gently, "I remember this feeling... Your skin... against mine. Your scent..." 

It's there. He can feel it. Just beyond his reach. He's been grasping blindly. Needing you and not knowing why, needing to feel you under his hands, against him. 

The hand at your waist slides to your lower back, pulling you closer. "Help me," he pleads, eyes shut tight, all focus trained on you, voice thick with hope and desperation, "please... help me remember." 

Donatello's warnings burn to ash within your memory as his mouth claims yours in a searing kiss. 

It's clumsy at first. Demanding. Desperate. Like a dance he doesn't quite remember the steps to. He holds too tightly, moves too stiffly, but you open to him anyway, and a warm wave of sunlight flows into him. 

He was so cold. He's still so cold. He can't remember the truck but he can remember the cold. Seeping into him slowly. As time dragged on and his body heat waned he'd grown so tired so quickly. He could still feel it. Frost on his edges. He's tried everything. Heated blankets, hot showers, gallons of tea. He's been trying since he woke up, he just can't seem to get warm. 

But where his skin touches yours, it's like holding the sun. 

Your heat floods into him like warm, golden light. Like the dawn. Pouring into the deepest, coldest parts, and filling him completely with that feeling. Love. And there you are, beneath the melt. As vital and familiar as his own heartbeat.

His kiss softens, his hold becomes more sure, familiar. It takes you a moment, but you realize, between kisses, he's whispering, "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." He holds you the way he always has, and he kisses you the way he always has, and soon your crying too hard to kiss him back.

He holds you tight against him, pressing you against his chest, kissing your hair, apologizing over and over as if any of this is his fault. You cling to him desperately, afraid that if you let go it won't be real, that he'll forget you again. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, afraid that you'll be wrong, and you'll look up into his, and you'll find only questions.

His hold tightens and his eyes burn. He's angry. This is unacceptable. Unfair. He got played, and he was supposed to die in that truck. What the Oroku fuckers didn't count on, what they never count on, is you. You'd pressed yourself against him, sharing what little warmth you could. By the time the others found you, both of you were unconscious and hypothermic, but still alive, Raphael's large body wrapped tightly around yours. You'd kept his heart beating. Just like always.

He pulls back and attempts to raise your chin to meet his eyes. You resist. He can smell your fear, feel the pounding of your heart under his fingertips.

He rests his head against the side of yours and speaks your name softly, in the same voice that has pulled you peacefully from sleep a thousand times. Another sob escapes you and you curl into him tightly, before a few moments pass and you unfurl, your eyes raising to meet his. 

The weight of his gaze settles on you and you never thought you could be grateful to see such depths of pain within him, but within the pain was... everything else. From the depths of despair to the heights of ecstasy, every moment of the last three years was a storm inside his eyes.

You can see the naked rage, swirling in the tempest, and it mirrors your own. Those responsible would be dealt with, later. Now, you reach back behind him, and he dips his head to make it easier for you to remove his mask. You toss it aside, and he presses his forehead to yours. You rest your hands on either side of his face, tracing the familiar scars, and you can feel his shuddering exhale. 

"I love you."

"I love you."

"I'm sorry."

"Raphael-"

"I didn't mean to-" His breath catches on a sob, and you pull him tighter against you. Burying his head in your shoulder, he wraps his arms around your waist and breathes deep. If scent is the strongest sense tied to memory, he would bury himself in you. He would never forget again. 

....

I know this isn't how amnesia works, okay??? I KNOW the plot here is swiss cheese!!! but it got stuck in my head and now you have to deal with it too, so there.

...

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins @sacred-holy-light @celeste-clearwater-06 @pheradream-15

Briefly rising from the dead to ask: Which turtle are you similar to in personality vs who’s your fav

Similar to Mikey, fav is Leo 🤓⚔️

Sweet Flipping Chicken and Mercy May 😳🥺🫢

Bayverse!Leo as a Boyfriend – Headcanons

(Because even if I don’t like him, he deserves better characterization and development. And besides, I love overanalyzing.)

Pairing: Leonardo x Female!Reader

Warnings: Overprotectiveness, possessive behavior, affection-starved. Subtle (but present) hints of: narcissism, egocentrism, perfectionism, spirituality, insomnia. I developed him so well that I actually like him now—I don’t like that.

Leonardo, as a partner, would be a fascinating study in contradictions. At first glance, he seems like the perfect boyfriend—disciplined, loyal, protective, someone you can trust without hesitation. But being with him isn’t easy.

Not because he’s cold or indifferent—on the contrary, he feels too much. He’s just spent his entire life learning how to hide it. To him, emotions are a double-edged sword: love can give you strength, yes, but it can also make you drop your guard, make mistakes, and risk everything you’ve fought for.

And Leonardo can’t afford that luxury.

Since he was young, his identity has been tied to duty. He’s not just an older brother—he is the older brother. The leader. The one who must always have the answers. There is no room for error, no space for doubt. That’s why, if he ever fell in love, he would do so with the same intensity he applies to any challenge—with absolute commitment. But also, with a need for control that can be suffocating.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust his partner. It’s that he needs to make sure nothing puts her in danger. That she’s safe, that there are no loose ends, that every move is calculated. Don’t expect Leo to be the laid-back boyfriend who goes with the flow. He will want to protect you—even from things that might not even be a real threat.

If he comes to your house and you don’t answer, his mind will assume the worst before even considering that you were simply in the shower. If you go out alone at night, he won’t be at ease until he knows you made it home safely. Not out of jealousy, but because the thought of losing someone he loves terrifies him. But instead of expressing that fear, he translates it into rules, into planning, into strategies.

Because Leonardo doesn’t know how to handle what is beyond his control.

This was evident in Out of the Shadows. His instinct was to make decisions for everyone, to divide the team when he felt they were weakening. He truly believed he was doing the right thing, that carrying the burden alone was the best course of action. But in the process, he lost sight of what his brothers really needed. And that’s exactly how he would be in a relationship—not out of malice, but because he believes being the strong one is his duty.

And while Leo loves with every fiber of his being, he doesn’t say it easily. He’s not the type to look you in the eyes and just blurt out an “I love you.” His way of showing affection is more silent, more tangible. He will remember exactly how you like your tea, he will learn to pick up on even the slightest change in your tone of voice, he will make sure you always have an escape plan in case things go wrong. But if you expect spontaneous hugs or verbal expressions of love, you might find yourself frustrated. Not because he doesn’t feel it, but because, to him, love isn’t something you say—it’s something you prove.

However, if someone manages to break through his armor, they will see something that few have ever witnessed. Because beneath all the rigidity, the discipline, and the self-imposed perfection, there is a boy who never had the chance to make mistakes. A boy who has spent years carrying a tremendous weight, who can’t remember the last time someone saw him and not just the leader. A boy who desperately needs a space where he can stop being the strategist, the protector, the flawless Leonardo… and simply be Leo.

Leonardo isn’t someone who easily succumbs to distractions. Not because he doesn’t enjoy them, but because he’s always believed his time should be invested in something useful. Yet on the rare occasions when he allows himself to let his guard down—in the privacy of his room or on a quiet night at the lair—small details reveal who he truly is beyond being the leader of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

For instance, he enjoys science fiction movies and TV shows. He wouldn’t admit it out loud—after all, Mikey would never let him forget it—but there’s something about exploring space, about advanced civilizations and the ethical dilemmas these worlds present, that fascinates him. Perhaps it’s because he sees his own struggle reflected in them: leaders forced to make impossible decisions, burdened with responsibility, torn between duty and heart. Whether it’s Star Trek, The Expanse, or even some of the more philosophical tales of Ghost in the Shell… Leo sits with his arms crossed, pretending not to be too interested, yet if someone pays close attention, they’ll notice the intensity in his gaze and the way his fingers tense with every twist in the story.

And although everyone sees him as the serious one, it’s not that he lacks a sense of humor. His humor is just more subtle, drier, more ironic. He won’t burst out laughing like Mikey or be as explosive as Raph, but if you’re close enough, if you’ve earned his trust, you’ll notice that there are moments when he quietly drops a joke in a neutral tone, waiting to see if you catch it. And when you do, when you respond with a retort just as sharp, the corner of his mouth barely curves, as if he’s quietly satisfied with the interaction.

But if there’s one thing that truly brings him peace, it’s tending to his bonsai trees. It’s a hobby that no one in the lair seems to fully understand. Mikey calls them boring, Raph jokes that they’re just “miniature trees,” and Donnie respects the practice but sees it more as an exercise in patience. For Leo, however, it’s more than that. It’s a reminder of balance. Of control. Of how even the smallest force, with the right guidance, can grow in the right way. And on nights when the pressure becomes too much, when he feels the weight of his role crushing him, he sits in silence before his little tree, allowing himself a moment to breathe, to reconnect with himself.

But love… love is different.

Leo doesn’t allow himself to fall in love easily. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because his mind simply doesn’t work that way. He needs to feel that his partner is more than just a fleeting attraction. He needs connection. Compatibility. A deep, unwavering understanding. And that isn’t built overnight.

That’s why, when he finally starts to realize that what he feels for you goes beyond friendship, the first emotion that floods him isn’t happiness.

It’s doubt.

And Leonardo shouldn’t doubt.

He always has answers. He always has a plan. But for the first time, he’s standing on ground where logic is useless, where he can’t break things down into a battle strategy. He can’t make a pros-and-cons list about his feelings. He can’t calculate every move the way he would in combat. And that frustrates him.

Because if he accepts it—if he acknowledges that his feelings are real—it means there’s something in his life that he can’t control.

And Leonardo hates not having control.

Leonardo isn’t someone who falls asleep easily.

Not because he doesn’t need to—his body demands rest just like anyone else’s—but because his mind never truly shuts off.

In the lair, when everyone else is asleep—when even Donnie has finally stepped away from his monitors, and Raph has stopped pounding the punching bag—Leo is still awake. Arms crossed, back stiff against the wall, gaze lost in the dim light of his room.

It’s in those moments of solitude that his mind betrays him.

When he tries to dissect what he feels, to categorize it, to put it into some kind of logical order. Because he’s always in control. Always.

And this… this shouldn’t be any different.

He’s not impulsive like Mikey, letting himself be carried away by every emotion without a second thought.

He’s not a ticking time bomb like Raph, ready to explode at the most unexpected moment.

He’s not even like Donnie, obsessively analyzing every variable to the point of overload.

He is Leonardo.

Leader. Warrior. Strategist.

And there is nothing he can’t control.

So if he has reached the conclusion that what he feels for you is real, then he will take the reins.

It won’t be difficult.

It shouldn’t be difficult.

He will force himself to keep everything in place, to act with precision. His glances will linger just a second longer—but not enough to be obvious. His words will be measured, carefully chosen, but still carrying his usual composed tone. He will make small, almost imperceptible changes.

Like making sure you walk on the safer side of the street.

Adjusting his stance subtly to block the wind when you’re on the rooftop.

Asking if you’ve eaten well—but casually, as if it’s not really important.

And the worst part? Unlike Donnie, who would give himself away with nervous fidgeting and stammered words, you will never notice.

Because Leonardo won’t allow you to notice.

All you’ll see is someone who has everything under control. Someone who watches you with the same intensity he reserves for his enemies on the battlefield, as if he’s calculating every single one of your movements.

But what he doesn’t want you to see is the opposite.

That inside, he’s nervous.

That his palms sweat when he touches you, when his fingers accidentally brush against yours.

That his pulse quickens when you get too close, and he has to remind himself to breathe normally.

That in every conversation, in every moment, there’s a small part of him afraid that one wrong step will ruin everything.

Because if there is one thing Leonardo could never forgive himself for, it’s losing what you’ve built together.

Not just losing you, but losing your trust.

And if that were to happen… how could he justify it?

How could he explain to himself that after a lifetime of making the best possible choices to protect those he cares about—this was the one he let slip through his fingers?

And when he finally allows himself to admit it—when he has broken through every mental barrier he imposed on himself, when he has analyzed every angle, when he has measured every consequence—Leonardo feels something inside him loosen.

For a moment, just a moment, it’s as if he has won the hardest battle of his life.

The weight on his shoulders dissolves, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he breathes deeply without the pressure in his chest tightening.

You are his.

Not in some shallow, possessive way, but in something deeper, more primal.

Like an instinct that has always been there, buried beneath layers of discipline and responsibility, waiting to be acknowledged.

And now that he has… there is no turning back.

But the peace doesn’t last.

Because almost immediately, another weight crashes down on him—heavier, inescapable.

Before, his burden was uncertainty.

Now, it is certainty.

Now that he has you, he must protect you.

With everything he has.

Not just from the dangers of the outside world—but from himself.

Because Leonardo cannot afford to fail.

And even though love is uncharted territory—a battlefield he has never stepped foot on—he demands perfection from himself.

To be the ideal partner.

To give you exactly what you need before you even ask.

To measure every word, every gesture, every decision.

To make sure you never have to question if he is enough for you.

Because he has to be.

He is Leonardo.

And Leonardo does not fail.

But there is a problem.

Because you don’t want the flawless strategist.

You don’t want the leader who is always in control.

You don’t want the polished, calculated version of him.

You just want Leo.

The Leo who watches sci-fi shows but would never admit to liking them.

The Leo who pretends he doesn’t enjoy messing around with his brothers, but secretly loves the rare moments when he catches Raph off guard or makes Donnie roll his eyes.

The Leo who tends to his bonsai trees with quiet devotion because, though he never says it out loud, they reflect his philosophy: patience, growth, balance.

And that is a terrifying concept for him.

Because showing you that side of himself means lowering his guard.

It means allowing you to see what’s underneath the armor.

The boy who gets frustrated.

Who sometimes doesn’t know what to do.

Who fears he won’t be enough.

That side of him—no one has truly seen it.

Not even his brothers.

But you… you want to see it.

And the road to him letting you in will be a long one.

Because accepting that you love him for who he is—not for what he represents, not for what he does, but for his very essence—is the hardest test Leonardo has ever faced.

Leonardo believes he has everything under control.

That he can handle his emotions the way he handles a katana: with precision, with discipline, with absolute mastery over every movement.

But you…

You are a challenge unlike any other.

Because while he struggles to keep his composure, while he measures every word and makes sure not to take a wrong step, you simply are.

You don’t need strategies or plans. You don’t analyze every interaction as if it were a life-or-death mission.

And that unsettles him.

Because deep down, Leonardo doesn’t know how to be loved.

He knows how to protect. He knows how to fight. He knows how to sacrifice himself for others.

But when it comes to receiving love… that’s where the conflict begins.

He appreciates that you’re not overly affectionate with him.

That you don’t suffocate him with displays of affection that would make him uncomfortable, that would force him to lower his guard all at once.

But at the same time, he dies when you take his face in your hands and kiss him.

At first, he goes completely still, trying to process it, trying not to lose control.

But the moment you feel his breath hitch, the moment you notice the way his fingers grip your waist tighter than he probably meant to—you know he’s falling.

And the worst part is that he hates it.

Because Leonardo shouldn’t let himself go.

He shouldn’t forget the weight on his shoulders or allow something as simple as a kiss to make him feel lighter—as if, for just a moment, the world didn’t depend on him.

But he does.

And it frustrates him.

Because he’s supposed to be the unshakable fortress.

He’s supposed to be untouchable.

And yet, here he is.

With his heart pounding too fast.

With his mind completely blank.

With you stealing his control with just a simple touch.

It sounds contradictory.

Because it is contradictory.

But Leo is a contradiction.

Because while he says attachment is a weakness, he holds you tighter when you try to pull away.

Because while he insists emotions cloud judgment, he stays awake until dawn thinking about what he feels for you.

Because while he tries to convince himself that his duty is more important than his happiness, he wonders if, just this once, he can have both.

And that is the real battle.

Not against an enemy.

Not against an external threat.

But against himself.

Because loving you means lowering his guard.

It means trusting that, even if he doesn’t have everything under control, you’ll still be there.

It means accepting that love isn’t a problem to solve, nor a responsibility to bear.

It’s just… love.

And no matter how hard he fights it, no matter how much he tries to convince himself he can keep his distance, there is one truth he cannot deny:

You are the only person in the world who can make Leonardo stop fighting.

Leonardo isn’t someone who takes intimacy lightly.

For him, physical touch isn’t just an act. It isn’t just a moment.

It’s an offering.

And he doesn’t give himself away so easily.

Not because he’s afraid—or at least, he’d never admit it.

But deep down, there’s an unease that eats away at him.

His size. His strength. His biology.

You’re human. Fragile in comparison.

And even though he knows you’re strong, that you wouldn’t do anything unless you were absolutely sure, his protective instincts won’t allow it.

It’s not just about protecting you.

It’s about himself.

His own control.

Because control is the one thing he’s always had.

Ever since he took on the role of leader, ever since he understood that his life wasn’t his own but belonged to those who depended on him, Leonardo learned to restrain himself.

To hold back.

To be the balance in the midst of chaos.

But you…

You make him lose that balance.

And if he allows himself to let go, if he allows that wall to crumble, he fears what might happen.

Because to Leonardo, intimacy isn’t just physical pleasure.

It’s a connection.

It’s binding his soul with yours.

It’s giving you a part of himself that no one has ever seen before.

And that is the real danger

Because if he gives you that—if he allows himself to feel you, to touch you, to love you on such a profound level—

Then there’s no going back.

He knows he could become addicted.

That the moment he lets go of the weight on his shoulders and focuses only on you—on your body beneath his, on your breath hitching, on the way you say his name—

Everything else will fade away.

And Leonardo cannot afford to forget his duty.

But… what if, just this once, he could?

What if, just this once, he could be Leo and not the leader?

If he could forget the world for a few hours—lose himself in you, in the warmth of your skin, in the way you look at him as if he’s more than just a warrior, more than just a responsibility, more than just a soldier trained to sacrifice everything.

If he could simply be yours.

That… that is what truly terrifies him.

Because if he tastes it once, he knows he’ll want it again.

And again.

And again.

Until there is nothing left of the fortress he has so carefully built.

Until there is nothing left of the perfect leader his brothers need.

Only him.

Only you.

Just two souls bound together—no rules, no duties, no limits.

And though he tries to convince himself he can resist…

He knows that, eventually, he will fall.

But Leonardo knows he’s not ready.

That he can’t let it all go—not yet.

Because if he does, who will bear the weight of the world in his place?

If he falls, his brothers fall. If he allows himself to be selfish, even for a moment, everything he has built could collapse.

So he waits.

He waits for you to understand.

To understand that there are things he still cannot give you, no matter how much he desires them.

But that doesn’t mean he gives you nothing.

Something just as intimate, just as addictive.

Vulnerability.

Not with his body, but with his soul.

So when night falls, when the world goes quiet and there is no one but the two of you, he lets you see beyond the barrier.

He lets you step into his sanctuary.

He pulls out the blankets he keeps tucked away in the back of his closet, the ones with the worn-out Rebel Alliance logo, and hands them to you without a word.

He lets you see the space-themed pillowcase he would never admit he still uses.

And then, in the dim glow of his room, when there are no more distractions, no more responsibilities, you talk.

Not about strategies. Not about training. Not about what is expected of him.

You talk about everything and nothing all at once.

About stars and distant galaxies.

About the Star Wars episodes he never gets tired of watching.

About the times he wondered if his destiny was already written or if he could take a detour.

And it’s there, in those organic conversations—unplanned, uncalculated, imperfect—that you witness something few have ever seen:

Not the leader.

Not the eldest brother.

Just Leo.

And then, when sleep finally claims you, you curl up against his chest—no fear, no hesitation.

Your breathing slows, steady and peaceful.

Your warmth seeps into his skin.

And Leonardo, the one who never lets his guard down, the one who is always on alert, stays still.

Feeling.

Listening.

Your heartbeat, syncing with his.

Nothing separates you but a thin layer of skin.

And for the first time in a long time, he forgets.

Forgets duty, weight, sacrifice.

Forgets that he must be strong, that he must be everyone’s shield.

Because in this moment, there is only you.

Jayus’ Jammie Jams

Hcuehdhsixbhcuwbfhwkdbfjek *sounds of incomprehensible vibing fangirl* The lyrics, just like THE turtle, speak for its SELF, and honey I am ✨Viiiiiiiibing✨

*dramatic snap* Listen to it, darling 😎😘✌🏼🩵

My husband’s job primarily employs adult men but there is one (1) teenage girl and my husband said originally he worried she might be a bit of an outcast but instead every man on the crew was like “huh guess I am a dad/older brother now.”

Jayus’ Jammie Jams

Today our first song is something Raph coded! It’s got a nice soft wholesome beat and I feel like this would be the type of song that encapsulates those soft moments when he feels safe enough to let his guard down around you. You know those small moments when you catch him looking at you with a small wonder filled smile, maybe a fond little smirk? I’m thinking in the secret moments like, late evenings or sleepy nights. You know where that look is the only outward expression of the inner mess of affection that’s threatening to burst from his heart because of you? Just the kind of song that makes him appreciate the kind of softness that comes with being with someone as sweet at you 🧸❤️

Dedicated always to @anobodyinabog

THIS

Papa Leo is my most favourite thing in the world

I might not be the best…well anything…but if there’s ONE thing I’m good at, it’s being an enthusiastic fan. So y’all can bet your bottom dollar I’m gonna do my best to help. You’ve got my solemn promise 🫡🧡❤️💜💙

Signal boost! Please read if you want to save ROTTMNT!

Resources!

Hashtags: #SaveROTTMNT #SaveRiseoftheTMNT #UnpauseROTTMNT #UnpauseRiseoftheTMNT #SaveRiseofTMNT #RiseSeason3 #RiseTMNT

Who to address your posts to…

Tumblr: @ nickelodeon @ paramount

Twitter: @ nickelodeon @ paramount @ brianrobbinstv

Instagram: @ nickelodeon @ brobtv @ paramount @ tmnt

Blue sky: @ Nickelodeon @ paramountpictures.sky.social

Incorrect Quotes that anyone is free to draw…

Save Rise of the TMNT Masterpost

To my readers:

If your comment is long and rambling and full of quotes you enjoyed, I will love it.

If your comment is full of story related questions, I will love it.

If your comment is a single sentence, I will love it.

If your comment is a single emoji, or a string of them, I will love it.

If you comment, I will love it. It's that simple.

*holds this oh so very gently*

CWs: thoughts of suicide, suicide attempt

-

There are no stars here.

There were stars in the country. You remember staring up at them on nights when you couldn't sleep, getting lost in the constellations until your eyes got heavy enough to stay closed. Here, though, when you look up, there's just… darkness. An endless expanse of nothing. Almost like the stars themselves decided it wasn't worth it anymore to stick around. Light pollution, smog, yeah yeah, you know. But maybe… maybe the stars just decided to leave. To start fresh.

Or maybe… they decided to finally rest.

The wind cuts through your thin jacket, chilling your skin. Your feet sway where they hang in the air, over the side of the roof, and when you lean forward, peering down at the city below, you think you should be feeling some sort of vertigo. A bit of fear, maybe. Instead you feel… nothing. Just cold, and stiff, and tired.

You miss the stars. But you understand why they left.

The city is a blur of light and movement. There are thousands of people down there, even now, at this late hour, going about their lives. It's so busy here. Always busy and bustling and alive in a way that doesn't come naturally to you.

Out of place. That's what you are. That's what you've always been. But not for much longer.

“What are you doing?” a voice stage-whispers nearby. You inhale sharply, whirling around to see… nothing. You scan the empty roof, eyes wide, your heart lodged in your throat. There shouldn't be anyone up here. You checked to make sure when you first came up, and there had been no one. If someone had come through the door, you would've heard the heavy, ancient thing creaking on its hinges, and the ladder is to your right, so you would've seen if someone came up the fire escape. So there shouldn't be anyone up here.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I know this is weird or whatever,” the voice continues. It sounds like… a guy. Honestly, he sounds like a fucking dork, with the way he's whispering so loudly. “It's just that, like, Leo would kill me if I let myself get seen, but you've been here for a while and it's pretty late, or- I don't know, early? Whatever, but I had to check on you, y'know? So, like, are you good?”

…This is weird. Right? Yeah, this is definitely weird. The guy, wherever he is, doesn't… sound like someone you need to worry about, though. Something about the way he talks makes you feel like… talking back.

“I'm good,” you say slowly, the words feeling foreign in your mouth. You twist around further, still scanning the empty roof for signs of movement. “How did you… get up here?”

“Uhhhhhh same way you did?”

Okay so he's a terrible liar. Despite everything, it makes the corner of your mouth twitch upward. “Right. Sure.” You scoot back and swing both legs back up so you can stand, your muscles protesting from sitting still for so long. You take a few steps away from the ledge, peering around you. “And where are you exactly?”

His voice goes from a stage whisper to a cheesy imitation of a ghost, and yeah, okay, this is the weirdest thing that's ever happened to you, but you can't help laughing when he croons, “I'm a hallucinaaatioooon.”

“Uh huh. A hallucination.” There are a few vents on the roof. You start to walk between them, circling each one in the hope that you'll find this guy crouched behind one, but no such luck. “A hallucination that will get in trouble with the big boss for being seen? Is that what you said?”

“Pshhhh Leo isn't the boss of me. Well, I- I guess like sort of, in a way, but not like- I mean- Dad is the- okay, no, we were talking about you. What are you doing up here? Aren't you cold?”

You cross your arms, feeling a bit petulant at the question, though you're not sure why. Yes, you're cold. But it's… fine. “Are you cold?”

“Answering a question with a question, huh?” You hear a nervous chuckle from… somewhere. “Donnie does that when I'm being- oh shit, am I bothering you right now? I am, aren't I? I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I'll- sorry, I'll let you get back to, uh, sitting.”

“No!” You reach out a hand toward nothing, feeling more than a little silly as you continue to look around you in vain. The roof is still empty. “No, please, I…”

You… what? Want to keep talking? Missed feeling seen? Maybe he is a hallucination. Maybe this is your brain's last attempt at stopping you. But… it's true. You do want to keep talking.

That's just pathetic, isn't it? Sad, lonely little girl, wanting to be seen so badly that she'll hallucinate someone to ask if she's okay. There's no one here. You're alone.

You're alone.

Everything you had been feeling before you came up here returns, all at once, like a crashing wave, smothering you beneath the crushing pressure. Your throat tightens. Your lungs burn. There's a fog in your mind and a black hole in your chest and you're shivering but it's not from the cold.

…You've put this off long enough. It's time to stop pretending.

Your shoes scuff against the roof as you approach the ledge. A gust of wind makes you sway dangerously, and you think you hear the voice again, but the roaring in your ears is too loud.

Just one more step. One more step. One more. Just. Just-

Something yanks you by the arm, and you stumble backward, bumping into something big and solid. You're wildly disoriented for a few seconds, still getting your feet steady beneath you, and then you look up to see…

Okay. You're definitely hallucinating.

“What are you doing?!” The man (??) asks, frantic concern etched into every line of his face.

His face. Green skin. No hair. And no ears, and more of a snout than a nose, and a- a mask over his eyes? For some reason? You're officially losing it.

The man snaps his fingers - there are fewer than there should be, you notice - in your face, and his other hand rests on your shoulder, holding you in place. “Focus on me, angel, okay? Can you hear me? Are you okay? What were you doing?”

He's talking so fast you don't even get a chance to answer each question before he's asking the next. You stand there, watching him fret, and Jesus, he's huge. With a big… something? On his back? A shell? You look him up and down and back up again before you finally find your voice.

“Are you a turtle?”

He stops moving, going quiet, and seems to suddenly realize something. His expression turns sheepish, almost afraid, and he pulls his hands back to fidget with them in front of his stomach. You feel unmoored without the weight of his hand on your shoulder. “Yeah, actually. I am. Sorry, I… guess I should've… I'm… I'm Mikey.”

Mikey. There's no way this is real. Still, it feels rude to not introduce yourself in turn. Mikey seems to relax when you tell him your name, but the concern returns quickly, and this time when he speaks, he does so quietly.

“What were you doing?”

Is this… your brain trying to… get you to face what you're trying to do? Somehow? You know what you're trying to do. You've been thinking about it for months. Where were these hallucinations before you quit your job? Before you sold nearly everything you own and let your lease run out and cut off the few people who have tried to make a connection with you since you moved here? You're so tired. You're so…

“You know what I was doing, Mikey.”

There's silence as you stare at each other. You watch his expression shift from confusion to dread to sadness. He looks from you to the edge of the roof and back, and his eyes start to water, and you can't, you can't, you can't do this. That's not fair. It's not fair for your mind to come up with a giant turtle man and then make you feel bad for him being sad. That's fucking ridiculous!

…But you do. Feel bad. Mikey looks lost, and scared, and sad - and you hate it.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Mikey makes an aborted movement with his arms, then shakes his head. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. “Can I hug you?”

Well, now, this really is pathetic, isn't it? When was the last time someone hugged you? Is your brain that desperate for comfort?

…What do you have to lose?

As soon as you nod, Mikey puts his arms around you and pulls you close. His arms shake, just a little, but you feel secure in his hold. Your cheek rests against his chest, and it's… oddly firm. Textured. Warmer than the air, but still a bit cool to the touch. You can feel his chest moving as he breathes. It feels so real. And you… you don't want him to let go.

It's pathetic, fine, sure, whatever, you don't care, but when you start to sob and he only holds you tighter, you're so, so thankful that he's here.

You let yourself cry. He stays quiet, a steady presence that keeps you grounded, and when your sobs turn to sniffles, he's still holding you. It still feels real. It can't be real, it can't be, but honestly? Fuck it. Fuck everything. You really, truly, do not care. It feels good to be held. It feels good to be seen. To be… cared for. Your brain can hallucinate whatever it wants at this point, as long as Mikey is there, too.

When he starts to pull back, you cling to him. Embarrassing. Whatever. He stops pulling away though, holding you close again.

“Do you want me to take you home?” he asks.

“Don't have one anymore.”

“Oh. My bad.”

For some reason, that makes you smile. Your hallucination, which manifested because you were going to kill yourself, is apologizing for not knowing that you were homeless, which you did in preparation for said killing of said self. Yeah, no, that's funny. That's fucking hilarious.

Maybe you're a little sleep deprived, actually.

“Can I…” Mikey hesitates, his fingers tapping against where he's still holding you. “Do you maybe want to stay with me? For tonight? It's pretty late, so… you'll need a place to sleep, yeah? N-Not that I was, like, saying that- I mean, I'll take the couch obviously, so-”

Oh my god. He'd be sort of adorable if he were real. You let him stumble over his words for juuust a little longer before putting him out of his misery. “That sounds nice, Mikey.”

“Ye-Yeah? Okay. Okay. Cool. So I'll. Um.”

You yelp as he shifts his arms and picks you up like it's nothing, carrying you bridal-style. You look up at him with wide eyes, and he smiles hesitantly down at you. “Ready?”

You blink. Ready for… what? But, as you've already clearly established in your head, you're done questioning things. So. You nod.

“Alright. Uh. Don't freak out. Here we go.”

Don't freak- JESUS CHRIST. The air whips past you as he sprints across the roof and leaps into the fucking air. For a split second you're sure that you actually did step off the roof, that the hallucination has finally ended and it was just your brain scrambling to make shit up in the moment before you plummeted to your death - but then you feel the impact of Mikey landing on something and continuing his sprint. Then it happens again, a leap and a free fall and another impact, and then it happens again, and you realize he's- he's jumping between roofs. Carrying you across the city from way up here. How-

Nope. Nope. Not asking questions. Doesn't matter. He's got you. That's what matters. You press closer, loosely curling your fingers around a leather strap that's crossing over his chest. Another leap, and you think you're sort of, kind of, maybe getting used to it. There's a sort of rhythm to it, and you let yourself relax. You wonder if the rhythm is soothing or if you're just that exhausted. You wonder if any part of this is real. You wonder if you're falling asleep or falling to your death.

It doesn't matter, you decide. Either way, you'll finally be able to rest.

Funny enough, I didn’t think I was going to reblog this today but I was doing a personal study this morning where I just happened to read something that applied.

Thought I might share it with yall.

“Broken minds can be healed just the way broken bones and broken hearts are healed. While God is at work making those repairs, the rest of us can help by being merciful, nonjudgmental, and kind.” ~Jeffery R. Holland

Life is hard yall. That’s how it’s supposed to be because we’re here to learn and grow. But being cruel in ANY form does not aid ANYONE in that process in the slightest.

I really just wanna pull a page outta Paddington’s book and say

(pic found from Pintrest, if this is your work please let me know so I can tag you properly) Kia Ngāwari my friends 🧡

personably..... i think people on here are mean for no reason sometimes. and it makes everybody ELSE mean for no reason. cuz youre like... 'oh i like this guy and hes acting mean so im gonna behave like that'

and tbh i really hate it. i think if you have a big following you really should watch what you say, cuz like...... people wanna be RIGHT all the time. and they wont think anything through for themselves. mob mentality shit. i find if you act hostile you invite hostile. and if you display hostile, you make others follow suit.

if something enrages me thats a me problem. maybe i havent always done the right thing, maybe ive done things that dont align with what im saying now, but i think the desire to just jump down someones throat from the cringe reaction is bad. its like... cringing is from a kind of self disgust, a self loathing, a denial. thats why you cringe. youre seeing someone outwardly do something you would hate yourself doing. so youre mad at a stranger because of a desire to push something in yourself away. and then people copy your behaviour. what that persons doing probably isnt actually affecting you, so why are you SO bothered? you need to unpack that feeling. like ACTUALLY unpack it. acknowledge it. let it go.

i dont know if this makes any sense. i really just think some people are so fucking mean cuz they think theyre righteous. and thats always a dangerous line of thought.

Reblogging these because A: I think I’m clever and I laughed way too hard making these and B: I got to show them to my dad which like never happens, so it’s a big day!

Astronomy Lines Pt. 2

Made some wallpapers featuring the disaster twins because Venus is one disaster of a planet 😆

I flipping love stuff like this. These are the kind of useful funfacts I can get behind ANY day 😤🤌🏼

-stares at you suspiciously-

Hmm…

…

-approval-

Yes, hi, hello, greeting, salutations! You seem like a nice person. Nice persons are good.

Yes.

Hmm. Must double check.

What does Jazz think?

…

Jazz?

Oh, there he is-

…

Yes, Jazz agrees. Good person.

-pat pat-

Excellent.

Thou hast prevailed through the checking of goodness.

Well done.

We shall be taking our leave now.

-dramatic cape swoosh-

*tilts head curiously at a 45 degree angle*

*blinks again rapidly as I receive headpats with a slow growing crooked grin*

Affection? For me? Oh happy day!

Howdy Friendo and welcome to my crazy little corner of tumblr! Thank you so much for dropping by and for the added smile! I don't get many visitors in my inbox, so it is always a treat Don't be a stranger and know you are appreciated!

I-I…um…help?

could you please do 29 for dialouge prompts, leo and donnie?

dialogue prompts

29. “Tell me where it hurts, and be specific.”

x

When they were little, Donatello’s twin was his translator. 

Donnie was the last of the turtles to start talking—though the first to start reading and writing and dismantling kitchen appliances—and no amount of coercion or bribery or outright begging was enough to get a single word out of him in English or Japanese before he was good and ready. 

Splinter was in over his head already just by having four unplanned children to raise who were not even the same species as him. He fretted about his sons’ health and their development in those early years, and had absolutely no one he could turn to for regular parenting advice, let alone advice on what was and was not normal for mutant turtle children. 

He tells the story now with a rueful good humor granted only by hindsight and a decade and a half of distance, but at the time, Donatello refusing his second meal in a row while blinking silently in face of his father’s increasingly worried questions probably would have driven Splinter to tear his fur out if not for the contribution made by Donnie’s talkative striped shadow. 

“It’s the, uh, the red things, daddy,” Leo piped up. “He doesn’t like those.” 

Splinter blinked at him, and then down at the plate Donnie was refusing to so much as look at it. 

“The tomatoes?” he said. 

“Tomatoes,” Leo parroted. “They’re hard outside and squishy inside. He doesn’t like things like that. And they touched everything else so all of it is no good now!”

Never having considered that texture, of all things, could be the issue—and kicking himself for it—Splinter scrambled a fresh pair of eggs for his stubborn little softshell. He skipped the cherry tomatoes, and sliced a bell pepper instead that he made sure to put on the opposite side of the portioned plastic plate. 

Donnie sniffed his fresh plate of plain eggs suspiciously, but it passed his inspection. He crunched into a piece of bell pepper so eagerly that he must have been hungry. Splinter sank back in his chair with an exhale that left him feeling like a deflated balloon. 

Leo, eating the discarded tomatoes out of Donnie’s original breakfast, giggled at him. He was the first of Splinter’s babies to start speaking, and the sound of his bright voice tripping eagerly over clumsy human words rarely failed to coax a smile out of his father. 

“Thank you, baby,” he said, poking Leo on the edge of his beak and earning himself another peal of bubbly laughter. “I’m glad one of us speaks Purple’s language or I might have set us up for failure big-time.”

“‘Course I do! ‘Cause we’re twins!” Leo said, with only half an idea what the word meant, but happy for any reason to be one of a pair with his best friend. Donnie knew very well what the word meant and simply nodded along, because he was happy, too. 

Now that they’re older, and Donatello no longer needs a translator, he finds himself returning the favor instead. Leo is far from nonverbal—Leo talks too much—but he hardly ever actually says anything. He can pontificate and harangue and lecture to lengths of absolute absurdity without giving a single word of substance away that he doesn’t want to give away. 

Donnie can read him like a book. Like one of his favorite books that he doesn’t actually have to read, because he knows every page by heart. 

The summer after the world didn’t end, Donnie’s twin becomes someone unfamiliar. 

He’s self destructive in ways that aren’t immediately obvious. He seeks out things that scare him, lingering above the death drop an extra second even though he’s been afraid of heights since he was fourteen. 

It’s obvious that he’s trying to train himself out of weakness. No more childish fears, no more lazy Sunday mornings, no more silly Nardo. 

Raph and Mikey have clocked it, too, in their own ways. At first Raph was pleasantly surprised when Leo beat him to the dojo for training, ribbing him amicably when he was also the last to leave. But then Leo started turning down Mario Kart tournaments and ninja tag in favor of shutting himself away and working working working to correct an internal ugliness that just doesn’t exist. Mikey’s used to being the exception to every rule, used to arms opening for him wherever he goes, and the way his sweet, sunny smile slips every time Leo talks around joining him on the sofa for Kitchen Nightmares reruns—or explains away why he’s skipping dinner—is one of the worst things Donnie’s ever seen. 

At the very least, Leonardo doesn’t lie to Donatello’s face. He’s stopped looking him in the eye altogether. 

You’re not going anywhere without me, Donnie thinks at him, ready to dig in his heels and fight like hell. 

It’s hard to say how long it would have gone on, but one late night Leo limps home from a solo patrol and Donnie is waiting for him, arms folded, tolerance for foolishness nonexistent. 

“What, are you tracking me?” Leo jokes half-heartedly. And then, when Donnie doesn’t blink, he adds, “Wait, actually?”

“Don’t waste my time with questions we both know the answer to,” Donnie says, and points Leo directly towards the medbay. Leo, who had been angled toward the bathroom instead, likely because he can close the door and suffer in private with no one the wiser, sighs loudly and course-corrects. 

The overhead lights in the medbay hum to life when Donnie flips the switches. Leo looks over his shoulder to gauge how far those lights have traveled past the open door, restless with wondering if he’s going to have to save face in front of someone else. 

All of this? All this behavior? Donnie hates this. 

Larger-than-life Leonardo seems smaller as he boosts himself up onto the edge of the bed. The infirmary is the one place he never puts on airs, the one place he takes seriously because his family’s health and safety has never once been a punchline to him. He peels off all his false layers at the door. He’s back to not meeting Donnie’s eyes. 

“Tell me where it hurts, and be specific,” Donatello says. 

“Your bedside manner could use some work,” Leonardo replies. His attempt at wily good humor limps along a lot like he had limped through the front door, like the least funny thing in the world. “That’s why between the two of us I’m the team medic.”

“And I’m two minutes from pulling the fire alarm and making this a house party,” Donnie says frankly. His tone isn’t gentle, isn’t quite angry. He’s somewhere in the middle, gentleness and anger fighting for the spot that affection has never once surrendered and never once will. 

He hates the way his twin’s eyes get wet, staring down at his own knees, knuckles stark white and standing out like a string of pearls where his hands are bunched in the thin blanket he’s sitting on. He hates that it’s come to this, the quiet of midnight in the medbay, one of the brightest lights in Donnie’s life dimmed and miserable and so clearly struggling. It’s laughable that Leo really thought he could have hidden it forever. 

Donnie sits beside him on the bed and says, “What if I quit?”

The non-sequitur takes Leo by surprise. He was clearly expecting a full frontal assault and glances sideways at Donnie briefly. 

“Quit what?”

“My bad, I should have been more specific,” Donnie allows. “I meant, what if I quit being a ninja? I have better things I could be doing, and I don’t like getting hurt.” Leo is staring at him fully now, totally bewildered. Flabbergasted, even. It melts some of the sternness Donnie has been careful to shore up for this conversation. “Would you love me less?” he asks. 

It would have been kinder if Donnie had slapped him. “Don’t say that,” Leo says, barely any air behind it. 

“Are you more capable than I am?” Donnie steamrolls on. “Are you better than me?”

“Of course not. I don’t think—I didn’t say—”

“Then why do you have to be perfect if I don’t?” Donnie presses the advantage ruthlessly. “Why aren’t you allowed to struggle and doubt and spectacularly fuck up every now and then without raking yourself over the coals for it?” 

Leo glances over at the door automatically, like Raph is going to be summoned by the bad word. He’s sixteen, he’s just sixteen, Donnie wants to scream it loud enough that those resistance fighters in Casey’s future could hear him, the ones who thought it was a halfway decent idea to put a child in charge. 

Earlier Donnie thought that Leo looked smaller here. Now he thinks he can tell by looking how much weight his twin has lost since June. There’s a deficit of Leonardo in this world and his whole family is feeling it keenly. 

Raph wants to scoop Leo off the sofa when he stays up too late and tuck him into bed, wants to listen to Leo filling the comms with chatter on those nights when patrol stretches long and dull. Raph misses his little brother, the gossipy, gangly, growing up little turtle that Raph used to be allowed to carry everywhere.

Mikey wants to bicker over who gets to play Sonic in Smash Bros and eat cookies while they’re still hot from the oven with the person he admires so much, who taught him all the best cheats in Smash Bros and that fresh sugar cookies in the falling apart stage, pre-icing, are better than ones that have cooled. 

‘Sometimes you gotta get burned to get results,’ ten-year-old Leo had announced, but he was always the one who lifted the cookies off the sheet pan, he never let Mikey burn his fingers.  

That goofy, clever kid who was always getting them all into trouble and talking their way out of it again is worth a thousand made-up Master Leonardos. 

Leo keeps his face lowered, shoulders hunched, because he knows what he’ll see if he scrapes together the courage to meet Donnie’s gaze. He’ll see the love blazing in his twin’s face like one of those digital billboards towering above Times Square, and somehow he’s convinced himself he doesn’t deserve it. 

Donnie doesn’t give a damn what Leo has decided he deserves. Donnie’s going to love him anyway, on purpose, whether he likes it or not. If Leo wants to grow up so badly, then he can stop acting like a kid pushing vegetables around on his plate and swallow the truth. 

It’s okay if he doesn’t grow up yet. They can be kids awhile longer. It’ll be like when they were babies, when Donatello would rather go hungry than stomach certain foods. Leo never let Donnie sit alone at the breakfast table, keeping him cheerful, babbling company, even when their brothers had moved off to play. 

This time Leo is the picky eater, willing to go hungry and sit alone at the table. But Donnie learned from the best. He's returning the favor.

Donnie isn’t going anywhere without Leo, either.

//Covert AU: Little One

I do indeed dare. Get loved punk. Get absolutely friggin appreciated, you little treasure you 🧡

Hey *holds up hands placatingly* I firmly believe in the phrase “if you see something, say something” and let’s just say I saw something in you. Do with that what you will, but nobody’s gonna stop me. Mama’s got the gift of gab and by golly she’s gunna use it! NoNe oF yOu ArE sAfE! I SHALL APPRECIATED YOU ALL BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Howdy Friend!

I just wanted to say how happy I am to see you on my dashboard again. I didn’t realize how much I missed your art and your delightful little comics until I saw them again. Sometimes when I’m having a bad day, I like to stalk your blog and just relook at all your art. It’s just simple and sweet, a style I very much enjoy because it ALWAYS manages to make me smile. I understand life happens and that being creative can be difficult sometimes, so I really appreciate it so much when you are feeling up to share with us what ever is in your beautiful mind.

Again, just so so so glad to see you back. Missed you something fierce and I sincerely wish you the best of all luck in this new year. May all the good you do come back to you and please don’t forget how much you are loved! 🧡🙏🏼

Like.... how dare you be so sweet.

Very glad that my arts still brings you some joy, it means a lot to me ❤ I sometimes cringes at what I used to do in the past but remind myself that past me was proud of what she did cuz she did it with love and passion and better than yesterday. And the fact fact that some of you are still going through my stuff is amazing. Thank you so much.

It hasn't been... a productive year. But I wanna don't wanna stay on that note, I don't want my passion to die! I'll keep at it cuz I love drawing silly stuff and turtles hehe!! You do it too! All of you, the year just begin. Let's give our all silliest!! Haha!

oHOHOHO character analysis you say? *cracks knuckles* Lemme try my hand at this…

My personal ROTTMNT HC’s

Bad Boy: Donnie > See the thing with Donnie is he very much gives me Michele Buble’s “This Thing Called Love Vibes.” As in he “must get around to it.”

I don’t really think that romance is really up Donnie’s alley. Not that he’s not capable or anything. Donnie knows he looks good and has a terrifying amount of self confidence because the turtle knows he gunna DeLiVeR.

But he’s a little introverted right? With an extremely extroverted family. To have to deal with romance is finding someone whose company rivals his enjoyment of solitude which I’m under the impression is very hard for him to come by.

Not to mention, I personally HC Donnie as demisexual or not being sexually interested or attracted until after having a deep emotional connection. Now I get Donnie has a “type” or whatever but I think that’s more of just an aesthetic appeal more than anything because Donnie cares about fashion and appearances (in the fact of looking good and dressing appropriately)

WHICH IS WHY HE WOULD BE THE BAD BOY! In the fact, I think he uses/pushes the title as an “emotionally unattached bad boy” as a way to hide from unnecessary attachments because relationships take a lot of work and energy and Donnie would rather dedicate that to his projects instead. Because they’re controllable and predictable. People are not.

Again, I think Donnie would act and be happy as the bad boy until ya know, he gets fricken hit in the face with the feels. And then he becomes the most obsessed overthinking sap the world as ever seen. I liked @khayalli take in demisexual Donnie for further explanation. (Go check it out)

Flirt: Mikey> Ok listen. Mikey is cute. He’s adorable. He’s emotionally mature. He’s naturally outgoing and friendly. Not to mention he’s also the youngest with a baby face. And the kicker?

He knows it. Now Mikey is not malicious by any means, but he’s also no simpleton. If he wants something, by using a combination of ANY of those listed above traits, I find it very hard to believe that he wouldn’t get what he wanted in some way and fashion. And ROTTMNT Mikey is no Bayverse Mikey in the means that he’s constantly throwing like pickup lines and pulling moves or anything, but I do think he’s genuinely a sweetheart who just wants to make friends. In my experience, a handful of well placed compliments, talking about common interests and playful physical connection (which is all apart of typical flirting behavior), goes a LONG way in helping people lower their defenses and be friendly right back. So I don’t think Mikey is necessarily a flirt intentionally (heaven help the poor person of interest, ROTTMNT Mikey sets his eyes on wooing. I sincerely doubt any chances of them coming out alive) but rather just has a natural charm about him that he uses to his advantage in his attempts to make connections. Miss @sophiacloud28 does a wonderful example of showing this in her darling fic “A Shot In the Dark” (go check it out. The first couple chapters are delightfully giggle worthy)

Lover Boy (hopelessly devoted romantic): Raph> This is gonna be real short, but I’ll keep it to the point. Just like Raph’s sai’s 😏👉🏼👉🏼. First, check out “The Heart Is a Muscle” by Gang of Youths and then come look me in the eyes and tell me this isn’t a Raph coded song. Go. Do it. I’ll wait. Simply put, the heart is a muscle and Raph knows a thing or two about muscles. He knows how to work them. How to stretch them to the breaking point and still come back swinging. Despite all of that strength, all of that power, Raph’s real secret weapon is just how much he cares. Raph no matter the iteration, but EsPeCiAlLy in Rise, cares with ALL of his big, beautiful heart. And the best part, is he’s not afraid to show it unlike other Raph’s. He loves, and loves, and loves some more. He loves and because he loves, he protects. Because he protects, he fights. And he’s fighting with the biggest muscle of them all: his heart.

So you really want to tell me, that Rise Raph who willingly cuddles with stuffed animals, gets excited about ambience and cake, cries at lovely dovey moments, talks in a baby voice to his brothers, constantly pulls said brothers into hugs and immediately jumps off and in front of danger to protect said family would not love you with every fiber of his being, with ALL of his heart in ways that only Raph’s can do, and tell me he’s not a devoted romantic? @clioarcadia Has some of the best examples of the completely whipped Raph that I have in mind. Most wholesome, go check it out 🤌🏼

F* Boy: Leo> Ok. Somewhat similarly with Mikey, Leo is pretty. Except instead of having Mikey’s wholesome somewhat naivety about his own appeal, Leo knows he’s pretty and he flaunts it. He literally calls himself the Faceman. And that’s just what he does. In all times and in all places. Leo is constantly saving face. Because despite having the said “prettiest face” of the family, sometimes it can be hard to be pretty when your own reflection is hard meet in the eye. Eye contact is something you use when you want to be serious and when you tell need to tell the truth.

And while Leo most definitely can be serious, I think he really struggles with being honest. To others for sure (the manipulative little butt) but especially to himself. So I think being a said F* boy is Leo’s way to find the connection, affection and attention he craves without having to lose the security of having said face and accidentally exposing himself.

Because everybody knows that when the mask finally falls, it never fits in place the same way again. @desceros and @gbao3 do a really good job of highlighting and illustrating these facts if any of y’all are curious.

I saw your lover boy headcanons and I raise you this, Avery

Bad Boy: Raph

Flirt: Mikey

Lover boy: Donnie

Fuck boy: Leo

*cough*

I mean, yes. Totally agree.

Now - calling fans of other iterations!

Reblog and tell me who's who:

Bad Boy:

Flirt:

Lover Boy (hopelessly devoted romantic):

Fuck Boy:

Just for funnies!

*sound of mad cackling laughter* The work shift is done! DoBbY iS fReE!

*clears throat and fixes the cuffs of my sleeves as I also resituate my glasses before dramatically twirling my hand* Now on to the commentary! 😈

My reaction to this piece got me no joke like

The lines that made me specifically go oof:

👉🏼“And Raph making one last stand so that they can move.

His hands shake. The table is upended. Something, a noise perhaps, is ripped out of his throat before something smashes into a wall, and words, for once, tumble out of his mouth.

"YOU DIDN'T LISTEN!" > aaaaaaaa I feel the RAGE the desperation in this like woooooo doggie. I FEEL this for this hits way to close to home when in come to the mental turmoil of feelings. I literally mentally flip tables on the daily so this was catharsis to read, so I’m right there with Donnie.

Sophia, ma’am, how dare you. The audacity to make me relate. *SCOFF*

👉🏼“It's all his fault. And he can't fix it.

… But maybe…” > NGL I had a surge of hope that Donnie had some crazy idea to bring you back, one way he could in fact fix this because my rescuer complex/ recovering perfectionist is right there with him scrambling to find a way to fix it, to make it better, to make the hurt stop.

👉🏼”At least his death will be worth something.”

Baby. Honey. Sweetheart. No. Just…no. I’m writing this right after meeting with my counselor rn, so emotions are a bit high myself, but this hit harder than I’m willing to admit and so I’m hugging Donnie with my heart, NAY my entire soul. No, Donnie, your life means something NOW. Please don’t end it. Ashes don’t keep anybody warm.

The Crow and The Butterfly (One-shot)

One-shot, Character death mention, Angst, Rise Donnie, Apocalypse Timeline

Prev || Next

There are good days. The days he can concentrate. Try to figure out the next step and maybe, just maybe, how to win this devastating war. The days where he can almost manage to claim back who he was as he sits in his lab and works at incredible speeds.

There are bad days. The ones where he can barely get up in the morning. Ones where he can barely step into his lab before collapsing. The days when it hurts so bad, the two brothers he has left have to contain him.

Then… there are the days like today. The ones that start good, but quickly veer for the worst. The ones that make him think that everything will be fine before something, something just… breaks him. Breaks him and makes him feel insane.

He can't blame anyone when it happens, either. He just can't. Everyone is simply trying to get on with their lives, trying to make the base function as efficiently as possible. But sometimes… sometimes it just gets to him.

"What…?"

"Oh! Uncle 'Tello! Sorry for the mess."

Just like now.

He's not your child. Cassandra Jones Junior might have been born the day you were wiped from the face of the face of the earth, but he's not your child.

And yet, yet… with the way he's just starting to fill that chair. With the way he's behaving and the way his brother is raising him, he's starting to have trouble believing it.

"There was just so mu –"

"Out."

"… Uncle 'Tello?"

"I said out, Jones!"

Maybe he should get rid of that damn chair. Maybe he should just get rid of his entire monitoring set-up. Maybe… Maybe…

… It's going to be an awful day.

Prev || Next

💙✨Vincent✨💙

GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS

EVERYBODY SHUT UP(affectionately) N LOOK!

LOOK AT MY SON IN THE MOST DARLING STYLE

BY THE INCREDIBLY TALENTED and I mean incredibly talented @gooeseyleo!! Please PlEaSe PLEASE go check out their Future Leo story! It’s very delightful and their style is very nommable!

ANYWAY BEHOLD MY BOY

...Help--

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

When that character analysis hits just right and is plain scrumdillyumptious

My favorite thing in the world about Rise Leo is that he acts Like That but then at any given moment he's almost always doing something that's like. so fucking clever.

Like in the episode "The Ancient Art of Ninja Hide and Seek," the guys are sneaking around Big Mama's hotel to steal something from her guard dog Gus's collar. Raph's idea of stealth is uhhh holding a frond over his head, and Mikey and Donnie spend most of their time scooting a food cart up the stairs. Gus sniffs them all out and they all have to be rescued by Splinter.

And then Leo does this

And it seems so stupid, but like? it's actually not?? there's a strategy here???

The other guys get caught bc Gus is an incredible tracker w a great sense of hearing and smell—which Leo knows from their last run-in with him. So what does Leo do? He eliminates the problem by purposefully sneaking up on Gus in a crowded, noisy, distracting room so Gus won't be able to hear or smell him. And it WORKS—Gus doesn't notice him even when he's right under his nose! He just gets unlucky that the Evil Sports match ends right when he gets his hands on the collar.

It's just. so endlessly funny to me that Leo's the one who gets the closest to actually completing the mission without needing Splinter to bail him out, and no one notices bc he does so with the air of a court jester. A little clown boy. He truly radiates the vibe of someone constantly flying by the seat of his booty shorts, meaning no one realizes until Shredder that he's secretly the only one on the team who regularly uses ANY problem-solving or planning skills lmao

Pretty Random Turtle Thunks

Based off a conversation with my dearest mutual @anobodyinabog about how it would be like to try and keep your mutant turtle boyfriend a secret 😆

watch all the way to the end to make sense

Random Turtle Thoughts...

It caught him totally off guard. It really did. He never thought that once in his life he would be taken by surprise this way. Especially with all the peculiarities his life held - everything from aliens trying to conquer the world, to new mutants emerging seemingly out of the bricks that made up the city, to his very own existence. Nothing should astonish him at this point.

Yet here he was.

He'd read about this moment in numerous books. Seen dozens of actors and actresses feigning it in countless movies. Come to think of it as something that was possible - for why else would it constantly be portrayed virtually the same way over and over again across different medias spanning the ages - if there weren't some kernel of truth to it?

So, sure... He could accept that it was real. But surely - neither he nor any of his brothers would witness it in their lifetimes. Much less experience it firsthand.

That moment. So rare and enchanting.

But here it was. Happening before his eyes. In the last place anyone would think it ever could. Down beneath the real world, in a makeshift home, atop a beaten, reclaimed chair and discarded cushions rescued from dumpsters during a routine and unextraordinary movie night. Down so far from the light of the sun. The breath of fresh air.

It was quiet. Soft and beautiful. Looking nothing like he'd imagined it would. It wasn't loud or filled with fireworks or jubilant music. It didn't charge the air with static. Or shake the room with profoundness.

It didn't need any attention. It was happening. This moment. Whether anyone was watching or not.

It only needed the two of them. And there they were, fully committed to it.

Raph, in the worn chair in the corner of the common room. She, nestled between his legs with several pillows piled beneath to prop her up off the floor. One of her arms draped affectionately over his knee with his wrapped protectively around her.

He was curled down over her as she stretched up to him. Seeking to be as close together as they could. Faces barely a breath apart. Gone, every ounce of insecurity or dull irritation that normally adorned Raph's expression. His eyes wide and bright as they held her's captive. Her own expression nearly glowing, eyes twinkling, as the two seemed to whisper simultaneously to one another. Ears drinking in every syllable hushed. Breathy giggles slipping free every few seconds.

One of her hands laced firmly within his as the digits of the other two hands stroked and kneaded touches past each other. Their smiles beaming from the belonging, the comfort, the happiness radiating from within. Completely in-tune with each other. Oblivious to everything else. Immersed within a tiny world of their own making.

Leo blinked and quickly looked away, suddenly aware of the intimacy of the moment. But a quick glance at his two youngest siblings confirmed, they were totally unaware of the enormity of the moment happening mere feet from them.

Mikey, slumped sideways in his chair, idly munching on snacks between reciting movie lines he now knew by heart. Donnie nodding off, his eyes heavy beneath the lens of his glasses on the other end of the couch.

They were oblivious.

So Leo took a deep gulp. And dared to steal another look. Confirm he was truly seeing what he thought was happening.

A sense of awe overtook him. As he realized it really was real. Nearly brought tears by what he saw. Not just for the happiness for Raph. For her. But also for the fact that if this moment could happen for one of them, then there was the chance it could for all of them.

The tiny flame he nearly allowed to die out, gently stroked back to life each second he watched on.

But it was an intimate affair. So, he only allowed his gaze to hang on it a few seconds more. This moment.

When two souls mated. And became one.

@luckycharms1701 @yorshie @justalotoffanfiction @celticvix @writinandcrying @donniesgirlie @thelaundrybitch @gornackeaterofworlds

My reaction to this comic. I literally waited ALL day to come home from work to take this picture because this was just too real and raw for me not to be real myself to show how much it shook me

so face reveal sorta?

I can’t tell you how much closure I’ve received watching this 😪🙏🏼🫶🏼🧡

✨Note to self: Isolation is not the answer✨

This ended up way longer than I originally anticipated but I have no regrets, I also got carried away in one too many shots and regret none of it

Enjoy!

part1 | part2 | part3 | part 4 context: 1 / 2/ 3 / 4

After calming down the two of them just sit down and talk about it, Oneion explains everything more calmly, all the messures his brothers have taken to prevent him going into Survival Mode along with the ways they've find out to snap him out or fully stop him

(From then on Sprout has a high voltage taser intalled on his prostethic, just in case)

This is pretty much it on my part for the whole OneOne-Toast fight aftermath situation! Ell did a thing with One and Poptart too!

I also have some more Sprout and Oneion doodles, they are not connected to this event but I might post them over the weekend

Aggressive Affection at its finest. Chef kiss 😚🤌🏼

part1 | part2 | part3 | part 4

context: 1/ 2 / 3

Y’all please. Talk to me. Spam me. Affirm that I am not just a figment of my own invention 😆🙏🏼

The urge to bother my mutuals

Computer Leo!!!

Scrumdiddlyumptious, my good woman, as always

*pokes head into your inbox and waves*

Howdy Hon!

Last night was kind of an adventure wasn’t it, and I hope that you’re doing ok. I wish I had words that could make this better, but all that’s coming to mind is an internet bear hug and the words of my all time favorite redhead “There’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.”

Thanks for being someone who fights for the good and is a light while doing it 😊🧡🫂

Speaking of words, I was also wondering if I might try my hand at a request? I was thinking specifically for Rise Raph or Leo but I’m always down for artistic free rein so do where ever the creativity flows.

But AnYhOo, I was wondering how the boys would respond to a friend who was confident in their love language of words of affirmation? Like without thinking, drops the most heartfelt and specific compliments or “I’m grateful I have you in my life” kind of stuff at the drop of a hat? I think it would be funny since unfortunately the boys are very under appreciated verbally to meet someone who was fully confident in their ability to affirm people with their words and mean it.

Does that make any sense?😅 If you can’t tell I ramble a bit, but all I want to do is tell my boys why I believe in them, help them see all the good they do, and be their biggest supporter. They deserve nothing but goodness and overwhelming love and by golly, I will give it to them any way I can or my name isn’t aggressive affection 😆👊🏼🧡

Sooooo uh yeah…thank you for your time and no pressure if this request doesn’t float your boat. Keep being fabulous ✨🧡

Considering everything that has already come to light concerning the "election", yes. I am not happy and I will let it be known on the freaking rooftops. For reference, I come from a family of nationalists where I'm from, with my biological mother being one of the prime supporters and I... will fully admit that I staunchly disapprove of it. Being proud of your country's accomplishments is one thing. Using it to degrade other people who felt like they had no other choice but to flee? No. Hell no. You do not step on other people and cheat because you think your cause is right. So, as I said, fuck the government. I will continue being myself and not be the baby-making machine this nation wants me to be.

... Sorry for that. If you tend to ramble, I tend to get heated whenever discussing people's rights. ANYWAY.

I was wondering how to go about this request and I think this might be better as a headcanon segment. If someone would like me to elaborate on any of them later on or provide proof as to what I'm advancing, you are more than welcome to ask, but for now, here goes nothing. Warning, I'm going to go about this in a weird order, but it'll make sense after they're all there.

So! First things first!

How the Rise Boys Would React to Words of Affirmation.

Michelangelo Hamato

As someone who dishes out compliments himself, Mikey would be the one to blink at you, chuckle, and blush a little, at least if it was something concerning him directly, like saying you're grateful he exists or his artwork since it isn't something he gets this often for. His cooking and clothing choices though would get parading and maybe a little peacocking because of his genuine confidence in those skills, you would need to push a little harder to get him silent and shy.

Either way, expect him to bounce back and throw some compliments your way real quick. Why? 'Cause it's his love language as well! Hell, expect him to turn it into a competition because he will not be outdone. No sir. And if you end up looking like a tomato by the end of it? Well... you started it, didn't you?

Donatello Hamato

Hope he doesn't have anything in his hands or it will be dropped. Doesn't matter where the words go with his boy, if he so much as recognizes the honesty, and he will, he will go silent and stare at you like you've grown another head. Not because you've hurt him, but because he doesn't understand. Spontaneity and genuineness, at least when it comes to words, is Mikey's thing. You are a stranger to his family and you're not only complimenting him but being genuine about it? Does not compute.

He will adapt, though, and at first, he might ask about what you think of his work. It'll be cautious and he will absolutely downplay it, but he will start fishing for compliments while enjoying your presence. And if you show interest in any of his special interests? Consider yourself his best friend. He will bug you at impossible hours before waiting for you to wake up so you can both talk.

Raphael Hamato

The big guy, the oldest, the one who had to raise this merry band of idiots. I don't think he would drop anything, but he would blink at you and look behind himself several times before he even acknowledges that you're talking to him. From there, expect him to blush and hesitate. He's not used to compliments, poor guy, and even less when they're spoken with honesty and kindness.

Surprisingly, though, I think it would calm him. Reassure him. He doesn't hear often or from anyone that he's doing or has done a great job, so, for a moment, it would silence his brain. He wouldn't bug you as often as Donnie would, but if ever he had a big decision to make, he might either ask for input or just want to make sure he took the right one.

Leonardo Hamato

... Eugh, boy. Where do I start with this guy? With the Face Man, the one who's used to lying, the one who nearly took out the planet on accident because he wanted to show off his skill? The initial reaction would be a simple one, use your words and embellish them. Make them more grandiose. Build himself up as high as possible. If it makes you laugh? Great! If it upsets you? Well, you're the one who said something so you only have yourself to blame.

Eventually, though, he would fall quiet. He would listen and ask you if you mean it. Saying you do will get you more silence and little else. He might even walk away. Why? He's waiting for the other shoe to drop. He's waiting for you to get angry at him. Change your mind. Everyone does. So why wouldn't you?

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