I write! Mostly I wrote one giant TMNT fic that is now finished called Dog Days of Summer, which can be found on AO3. Or if you want I at least posted Chapter One to Tumblr and you can read it there.
It's a beast of a thing coming in at 420k words and is a slow burn romance between BayDonnie (Bay with some other iteration elements) and an OC that takes place largely at the farmhouse. I wrote it because I wanted to try writing about an average woman and what it might actually look like to pair up with one of these guys. If you like turtles chilling at the farm and Donnie slowly learning that he deserves love, this might be the fic for you. Perspectives bounces back and forth between Donnie and Elise.
AO3 Hook:
Donatello existed below or above, but so rarely touched the earth itself.
Elise loved nothing more than getting her hands in the soil.
The summer was supposed to be a quiet, solitary few weeks of dog-sitting out on the old family farmhouse. That was until four brothers and their elderly, dying father changed all that.
Roots and wires. Stems and conduit. A seed planted and a source code.
But now that that project is done, I have the brain space to start writing smaller things. Will add to this as I go:
Bayverse (ish)
Donnie
Mysteries of the Universe
Spring Shed
Let Me Provide
Leo
To Pee of Not to Pee
Misc
Random Blurbs from this Speakeasy AU
I also draw! To find those it's really easier to search the tag adebauchedsloth art, but I also have a not always up to date art post that has a decent amount of them. So far the majority of it is chapter art for Dog Days of Summer.
I’m obsessed with Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles art style. Filmed a whole process video of this piece, even though I hate the colours, I did the best I could 😭🙌🏾
Got another watercolor finished. Had to put it on pause for over a month after I started it, but I think it came out well. Still room for improvement here and there, but I'm pleased.
(A/N): This is like... a manifestation of a half awake day dream that I conjured up. It's technically apart of some bigger day dream where like the group gets stuck in a dreamscape and the only way out is through their dreams, but it turns out Donnie and my OC have the same dream, and it's marrying each other! But I don't wanna write all that so... just have wedding night oral sex! That isn't apart of the dreamscape thingy.
TW: p in v, obviously smut, tit play? He paws on her, cunnilingus, slow sexy and wet, heavy kisses
To think, you're married now.
The word alone makes you elated and dizzy, a laughter bubbling up inside you wanting to pop out. Married. Married.
And to probably the coolest, yet dorkiest, guy on the planet. The one herding you through the bedroom door, wedding dress bunched up in his arms as his hands try to reach and paw at you. You squeal and giggle when he successfully pinches you, jumping away and stumbling forward on your wedges.
"Donnie!" The fire you try to give it falls flat, voice breaking as you laugh and swat his hands away. He's leaning over you, even as you try to get some breathing room, big hands falling over your waist and betting the sides of your dress.
"What?? I can't pinch my wife?" Donnie accentuates the word, wife, nuzzling his snout into your ear and saying it. "I think the one thing I hate about weddings is how I couldn't jump on you mid ceremony."
You twist in his arms, skirt swishing awkwardly between you both. "Oh really? And traumatize your whole family?" He finds his way back into your neck, lavishing wet kisses over the skin.
"Cake would've made up for it." He mumbles, before sucking at the juncture between your neck and shoulder.
"Ah-- fuck," You wince but your arms try desperately to wrap tighter around him. "That cake was fantastic, wasn't it?"
"Not as fantastic as you," Donnie's made his way up to the side of your face, pressing his lips to your cheek. He's still, probably worrying about if he'd ruin your make up kissing you. It doesn't matter, it never did, and you turn your head to meet him with your own kiss. Deep and languid, sighing into it and letting yourself lean against him, hands on his shoulders. He's pulling back with a soft sound, eyes half open. "So damn stunning, you're radiant."
"Resplendent" Donnie kisses your chin, knees bending to crouch down.
"Mellifluous" He travels down your neck again, slow and meaningful, his hands tugging up your skirt.
"Inimitable" He kisses right at the edge of where your breasts and dress meet, his knees on the floor.
"You're just making up stuff now..." Your voice tapers off when his hands find there way up to your panties, fingers tucking into the edges.
"Am not," He's muffled, trying to bury himself right into the top of your dress. His tongue sweeps out to taste your skin, salty from sweat, before he's pulling back, smiling not so far from under your nose. "Sit down and I'll show you what they all mean."
The offer makes your stomach do back flips, his gentle hands nudging you to the plush chair situated by the window, overlooking the barn and moon. You had been married a little further past that, in front of the lake, under a big tree. A picture perfect scene, stamped in your mind.
You can't help it, becoming misty eyed and trying to be demure in your sniffling when you sit. The dress fluffs up, squished between the arms of the chair, and Donnie is shuffling on his knees closer to you, hands finding your ankles again, thumb petting at the straps of your shoes.
"What's wrong?" He asks on instinct, followed by a tease, "you aren't regretting it, are you?"
Even though he jokes, you can still see it, the way his smile awkwardly sits, not reaching. You don't hesitate to cup his face, to drag him closer to you and sprinkle kisses along his cheeks and forehead.
"Never." It's resolute. Final. In a way that eases any doubt, this was what you wanted. "I've dreamed about this and now it's came true, that's all."
The admission makes his own eyes sparkle, huffing through his nose and biting his cheek. "I love you." he mumbles, face close to yours.
"I love you more." You fire back, and the skeptical look his face pulls makes you laugh, loud and open. "You're so cute, I can't get enough of it."
"I'll show you cute," Donnie grumbles with no true ire. His hands start pulling your legs apart, "Spread your legs, and prop em up."
"You don't want me to take this off first?" You let go of him to pull at your skirt, watching him drag your legs up, up, up, knees resting over the arm of the chair. Your hips strain, just a little, but a big hand petting the inside of your thigh takes your mind off it.
"No, I wanna do that," Donnie kisses your knee, his cool breath making your skin tingle. "Let me just keep you in it a little longer, yeah?"
It's so easy to just let him, humming sweet when he trails further down your leg with his mouth and hand. You can't help the way you hold your breath in anticipation, chest tight and body stiff, waiting. The skirt of your dress hilariously hides him from view the closer he gets, and when he's brushing a thumb over the gusset of your panties it's like the touch amplifies, folded over into doubles.
"Feel good?" The little shit, you can hear the way he's smiling. Donnie's barely touching you, feather light. A sudden snap of the garter belt -- forced upon you by April -- makes you jump in your seat, legs jolting.
"Hey!"
"I asked a question, love." Before you can snark at him, like he knows you're about to, he nuzzles right into you, giving your pussy a firm lick through the silk piece. He stays nestled there, touch softening your sharp attitude.
"That does," You sigh, head falling back and trying to scoot closer, your body slumps a bit. It'd be uncomfortable if it weren't for the way he was snacking on you, soaking the fabric. An audible sniff from him buried in between your legs makes you throw an arm over your face, flushed with embarrassment. "Donnie!"
"Sorry, sorry," He mumbles against you, sounding unconvincing. You're about to bitch, throw begging out the window if being a brat would get him to move faster. Your mouth is already open, eyebrows pinched, ready to throw a retort sure to get you manhandled, but Donatello surprises you. He's got a finger hooked into your panties, tugging them aside, and laying a soft kiss on your mound, a touch laced with sugar. Sweet and sappy.
"I shouldn't be teasing you, huh?" He kisses down, like he had done to your neck, wasting no more time to finally dip in and taste you. You gasp and he groans, sound muffled into your skin, tongue excitedly focusing on your clit. You have to bite on your knuckle to stop yourself from tipping back and making a sound, knees shaking where they're propped.
"Always taste so good," Donnie breathes, and you realize his hands, petting the inside of your thighs, are trembling. "Amazing, I can't believe it." He's flattening his tongue against you, slurping up any taste collected, moaning when he feels the way your pussy clenches, begging for something -- for him -- to fill it. "Can't believe you married me."
Those shaking hands are at your lips, splitting you apart, showing him the dark sticky pink of you for him to admire. That weird little tick of his where he wants to see your anatomy before he gathers the spit in his mouth and tries with all his might to fuck it into your hole with his tongue.
Your scratching at the upholstery of the chair when he breaches, back arching, trying to get closer so he can hit that spot in you. He drags his palate upwards inside you, his glasses are bumping against you know, the corner of his frames digging into your skin.
"Fuck, wait--" You're flinging an arm over the skirt of your dress, fingers trying to reach the back of his head. One of his own hands meet you halfway, pushing yours back, so he can tuck his fingers into the tight top of your dress, palm kneading through the thick fabric. "don't stop!"
It takes one weak bump of his snout against your clit to have you seeing stars, legs coming up over the arms of the chair to keep him close to you, burying him in your dress. You squeal when he doesn't stop, your hand trying to push him away. It takes a leg tremoring kick to his shell for him to pull off of you, slurping up whatever left he can.
It's a possibility he took your soul alongside it. Brain mushy, slow blinking and trying to process the fact you finished quicker than usual, wondering if you should even be embarrassed that you did.
Donatello finally emerged, eyes bright and a big grin on his face, looking at you expectantly. You realize, as your mind tries to pick itself up and straighten out, tucked between his teeth is that gaudy garter belt. The vividly purple thing that you remembering huffing and puffing about putting on, cursing the traditions behind something so inane. But... between his teeth, where he sits on his knees like a dog showing off it's prize, the piece of fabric is charming.
"Spit that thing out and come take something else off of me."
Ever dutiful, the garter belt is stuffed in the pocket of his sports coat -- because of course the cornball is gonna admit later on that he loves that thing -- and he's getting off the floor.
"Yes ma'am"
I swear I'll write full on smut soon. I know I need to. I just really like oral sex as a concept right now.
Oh man. So many thoughts. Been thinking about this on and off all day, actually. What more about? Happy Donnie? Horny Donnie? Donnie playfully pinching and giddily using the word wife? I just wanna see that man happy. Thank you for this!
WIP Raph piece. Just for fun. Might just be him, might add my OCs Elise and good girl Daisy (a dog. Raph needs a dog) in and the two with thumbs are drinking a beer on the farmhouse porch. TBD.
Hello friends, I was going through my requests and found that one of them has disappeared. I never answered it so I was very confused and I'd been looking forward to writing it.
The ask involved a scenario with all four of the guys, Bayverse I'm assuming, and taking a relaxing trip to the farmhouse with their significant others, readers I'm assuming, or they could've been OCs I'm not sure. If this was your request, please send me a message and I'll reopen my ask box so you can resubmit. If not, I'll do my best to fulfill the request anyway without the specifics of the original ask, I'll just be doing it to the best of my ability and putting in what I can remember about it.
I'm not sure why it disappeared if it's a glitch on Tumblr's part or if that user is no longer on Tumblr, I'm not sure if asks can disappear for any other reason.
Okay, that's a really good sentence. Typo. Typo. Huh, did I write this? It's actually not bad. Typo. Hm, I would cut out that part now, but it kind of works. TYPO. Oh, this part is really good. That is the wrong word, wtf? I'm enjoying this more than I thought I would. ANOTHER TYPO? FFS.
THE TURTLES ARE HERE ! FINALLY ! It was a really long road but her they are ! It took me some time to post this chapter, but it should be easier now that my exams are almost over. French's exams are terrifying.
Thank you very much for all the nice reactions I got on the first chapter, as well as my headcanons. You guys really warm my heart ! All the requests are on their way, but again, exams.
ALSO ! I made some big changes in the story's structure and there would be some NSFW content (in hella a long time). I was pretty unsure of myself at first, but it goes with the more mature and realistic tone I want to give to this fanfiction (It's not in this chapter, but you are warned).
I hope that you would enjoy reading this chapter as much as I loved writting it
Life was calm lately.
Nothing had prepared them for what would happen later that night.
The patrol was fruitful. They had tried some new techniques and butts had been correctly kicked. All they had to do was stay in the lair and do their things. And that was what they did. After a healthy breakfast made of bagels and whatever soda they had in store, each brother went to their occupations. Training, cooking, napping, tinkering with machines. Life was quiet these last months.
Michelangelo was in the kitchen. He was leaning over a large saucepan, waiting for some rice to cook. At some moments, he would have a ladle of broth simmering right next to it.
“Still trying to achieve this risotto ?” Asked Donatello, passing by him to get a can of soda from the fridge.
The youngest turtle grunted.
“I would succeed one day, I’m sure of it !”
Almost one year ago, they had received the key to the city after stopping the Krang. Chief Vincent had thrown a little party for them. Nothing fancy, only the 4 of them: Splinter, Casey, April, and some other police officers. That day, Michelangelo had eaten the most wonderful dish ever : a mushroom risotto. He had never liked mushrooms, but the rice was so tasty that he hadn’t noticed them. Since that day, he couldn’t forget this wonderful delicacy. And after days of dreaming about it, he had finally tried to make one. He had been awful. Like almost-burned-the-kitchen’s kind of awful. This had demotivated him, eroding his confidence. He felt like he was too hyper to cook and had promised himself never to try again.
But he was yearning so much for this god-like taste that he had tried again, properly following the recipe this time. It had been almost 4 months now that he was trying this recipe at least once a week, when Master Splinter allowed him. He was the one taking care of food after all. Sometimes, he would even try to do other dishes, even some cookies. Most of them turned out to be successful attempts, fuelling this newfound passion for cooking.
The Purple Turtle always took the time to take a big sniff when he walked near the pan. His little brother didn’t know it, but he loved when he was trying to make recipes. They always smelled so good that only one inhale could clear his mind from any problems.
“ I’m sure that this one is the one.” He cheered as he closed the fridge, a cold Grape Crush Soda can between his three fingers. He went back to his lab, plopping in his rolling chair. The wheels squeaked under his weight. At his feet, countless corpses of emptied cans.
His eyes immediately took in the information passing through his 9 screens computor. On them, surveillance cameras, police reports. Resources he had acquired legally for once. The NYPD had even given them to him. He was proud that they had recognised his genius.
After the Krang incident, the Government had proposed a collaboration. However, they didn’t want to get involved with them like that. They were scared to become puppets, without mentioning that this would increase the number of people knowing about them.
After weeks of talking, they came up with an agreement. The four brothers would keep helping the city and collaborate with the NYPD in the exceptional case of forces majeures. In exchange, they just had to cover their secret identity. It had worked perfectly ! The only humans knowing about them, aside from April and Casey, were Chief Vincent and officers who had helped them during the Krang Attack. According to Donnie’s calculations, it was a lot but still manageable. Every police officer involved with them had signed a document, preventing them from saying anything about the four mutant terrapins.
This agreement had permitted them to focus on themselves, on their training. They had been experiencing a period of extreme growth, of shedding. It wasn’t their first time experiencing integral shedding, their last time dating form when they went to childhood to teenage years. But this time, it was more painful. After almost 4 years fighting crime, their skins and shells had taken too much damage for their shedding to be occasional. They had suffered for some weeks, but emerged with stronger skin and some more inches. This pushed them to train even more, gaining more weight, more strength.
The team was stronger, and each of its members had evolved in a positive way.
Donatello, thanks to their agreement with the police, had access to more material. He didn’t have to hoard for them or acquire them illegally any more. He had more time for his project, and had brought a ton of updates to the team’s material. On top of that, he had delved into a more personal fighting style, bringing science and martial arts together to boost his capabilities. He was more sure of himself, more confident in a fight.
Michelangelo was still his sunny self, the life of the party. But he had become wiser, calmer. Knowing that some people knew about them but didn’t find them monstrous had changed his perceptions of things. He would always think twice before throwing a joke, reading the room more carefully.
But the most noticeable change had occurred between Raphael and Leonardo.
It had been almost a month that they hadn’t had an argument. Donnie would count days on a little white board in his lab. Weirded out, Mikey couldn’t help but joke about it. ‘Their arch-enemies arc is finally over !’ was his most recurring one. At that, his two older brother would just look away and shake their heads.
They had matured a lot since the Krang Attack. Leonardo had spent days meditating, trying to learn how to understand feelings. His brothers’, but also his. His sessions of introspection taught him countless things, giving him answers to questions he had never thought about. This helped him gain insight into how to grow into the best version of himself, the leader and brother he wanted to be. He still had a long way to go, pushing him to stay alone most of the time.
Raphael had worked a lot on his feelings too. More precisely, on how to manage his anger issues. At first, he didn’t know how to do that. Meditating wasn’t helping. Reading human books gifted by April wasn’t helping. He even tried to talk about it to Master Splinter. But it didn’t work either. He just felt like a helpless kid, whining to his father like that. And one night, as he was rampaging the sewers after another fight with Leo, he heard a noise. He initially thought that it was an enemy, arming his sais.
How surprised was he when he saw a cat on the other side of the pipe. The poor thing was a bag of bones, the colour of his fur completely hidden under the dirt. The only thing Raph could see was his troubled blue eyes piercing through him in fear. It kept hissing at him, its muddy fur bristling. The turtle didn’t move at first, staring at the little creature. It wasn’t the first time that he saw a cat. He had already seen some on rooftops, or others inert in the sewer mud, drowned. This kind of vision had always struck him to the core. How could people be so evil? How could they steal the lives of such pure creatures? But what had changed was that the cat was still alive. He could still save it. So he tried to approach, only making his hissing worse. He stayed back, his hands raised, to show him he wouldn't hurt him.
“I don’t wanna hurt ya, kitty.” He whispered softly, softly kneeling on the ground. He carefully took out something from his belt pocket. The cat hissed, making him flinch softly as he retrieved the little bag of beef jerky. Mikey had recently started to make some, and it became his favourite treat. He opened them very slowly, keeping his eyes on the cat. The little guy was sniffing the air, already smelling the food.
“Dat’s it. Easy.” He whispered softly, emptying the contents in his hand. He used the bag as a plate for the food to not touch the ground. The Turtle had to take a dozen steps back for the small animal to come forward and finally eat the food. Even if it was still on its guard, the little cat was happy to eat something, its tail raised and its ears upraised.
He felt the irrepressible need to take care of the animal. Raphael met the cat in secret several times after that day. He had done a lot of research to get it suitable food, as well as how to take care of a cat. He had even asked April to get it to the vet , making her promise not to tell his brothers. If they learned about it, he would die of shame. The young woman found it pretty strange at first, but did it anyway. He learned that she was a little female, approximately one year or so. This broke his heart. She was only a baby ! This strengthened his resolve to take care of her. Every day, he would get her some food he had snuck from dinner. He would also bring an old brush he had found somewhere to groom her fur. The little cat, that he had nicknamed Purrl, was becoming more and more comfortable with the huge terrapin. When he wasn’t in patrol, the red turtle would stay with the cat. His brothers found his behaviour extremely weird. He was less irritable, calmer. But they didn’t bother to ask him what was happening. As long as he was happy and safe, he could do what he wanted.
And one day, April addressed the elephant in the room :
“You can’t let her stay in the sewer like that.”
It was true that a box filled with old clothes wasn’t the ideal home for a cat as precious and cute as Purrl. But he wasn’t ready to bring her home yet. He was scared that his brothers would scare her away. What if Leo accidentally crushed her during practice ? What if Donatello tried to use her in some experiments ? What if Mickey intoxicated her by making her try his food ? He wasn’t ready to take the risk. But he had to do it, for her. For his Baby Purrl.
The day he brought her to the lair, he seemed to be extremely calm, holding the cat like a porcelain doll. The fur ball was purring, snuggled against his huge plastron. He could’ve been an adorable sight if he wasn’t scowling annoyingly.
“A’ight, guys. Dis is Purrl, my cat. She is stayin’ with us now.” His eyes were darting menacingly at each of his brothers. “Got it ?”
The three other turtles were astonished. When April had warned them that their brother would bring a ‘friend’ home, they thought that she was hinting at a partner. This would have made sense : why he would come back home late, how his eyes had softened. They were ready to welcome this mystery person, whoever it was. If they had succeeded in calming their brother, they must’ve been a miracle. But it was just a cat.
“She is adorable !” Beamed the youngest, leaping toward his hotheaded brother. “Can I pat her ?”
“Don’t you dare !” He snarled, clutching her closer to his chest.
Donatello and Leonardo were relieved. It was a cat. Just a cat. They didn’t even ask about her weird name. They just nodded.
“As long as you take good care of her.” He said in defeat.
And he did. He was crazy for this cat. He would always coo at her softly when no one was watching, caressing her with reverence. He had even knitted her a little shirt, for her to not get sick due to the Lair’s humidity.
She had become his new reason to fight. Of course, he fought to protect his family, his loved ones. But she was completely defenceless. And he would never let anyone hurt her.
Over time, he had become less overprotective. He let his brothers pet her if she allowed them, which happened more often than he would have liked.
“Mikey ! Get your filthy hands off Purrl before I cut them off!” He roared from the main area of the lair where he was training with some punching ball. His brother in orange was caressing the cat while cooking.
“Chill out, Raph ! I’m not doing anything wrong !” He protested as she gently licked his fingers.
“Ya are cookin’ rice ya idiot !” He barked, rushing to the kitchen. “Rice is cat’s poison !” His voice softened as he carefully took the ball of fur in his massive hands. She immediately started purring.
“Without mentioning that this is highly unsanitary.” Their smart brother shouted from his seat, sipping his beverage with a metal straw. The fuzzy drink made his mouth tingle. A satisfied groan escaped his mouth as he quickly moved his mouse, opening a new tab. He couldn’t help but click his tongue, almost overwhelmed by all of this new information. It was thrilling and scary at the same time. There were so many details to take into account; he couldn’t let himself miss even one of them. A street. People. Images from the police department. News reports. He analysed every one of them, humming thoughtfully.
“Is there something new, Donnie ?”
The genius shook his head, navigating between the different tabs.
“Aside from a little bit too much traffic at the Verrazano Bridge, everything is in order.” He opened a tab with CCTV to prove his point.
“An accident ?” Leonardo mused, leaning toward the screen.
“No. Just people being stupid, I guess.” He snarked, looking at another camera recording. “However, I noticed some stirring toward the Purple Dragon’s territory.” The videotape was showing an alley. Leonardo couldn’t tell where it was, but he immediately recognised the symbol painted on the brick wall. It was a purple spiral ending with a little streak. A rallying symbol.
“It’s still fresh. It wasn’t there yesterday.” He resumed. I think that they are plotting something.” He then presented a succession of videos showing the same symbol in different settings. Under a bridge, on the wall of an apartment, in a park. “They are obviously gathering people for something.” He leaned on his squeaky rolling chair. “I’m waiting for some police reports. They surely have something too.”
The leader in blue nodded, lightly hitting his brother’s shoulder in support.
“Thank you, Donnie.”
Then, they heard some familiar sound in the kitchen. Metals clanking and things being put on their wooden table. Michelangelo was putting on the table.
“I wish to keep searching for clues.” The purple turtle stated.
Usually, when they had the time to eat at the same time, they would all be scattered in their own part of the lair. Either that or all of them being squeezed in front of the TV. The rare occasion they would eat together was when April and Casey would come down to see them. But weirdly, they would all come together to appreciate Mikey’s food. They hadn’t planned it the first time it happened, yet it had come naturally. It had become a tradition. When Mikey was cooking, everyone would eat together. However, Leonardo knew not to bother his smart brother when he was in his bubble. He let him be, promising himself to bring him a plate later.
“No problem. Don’t forget to take a break.”
“I won’t.”
He totally would.
He went back to work, not paying attention to his surrounding any more. When he was working , time had a tendency to accelerate. Each time he was on a productive streak, time would bend to get shorter. A day would pass in a snap of a finger, and he wouldn’t even have noticed it.
How was he supposed to work correctly when the world itself was against him ? He didn’t have enough time. He never had enough time. He always had to be faster, more efficient , doing everything to maximize his researches. During the days, he would work on his inventions, repairing things that had been broken the night before. At exactly 4 P.M , he would focus on CCTV, and that that until the night was over. Sometimes, days would come quicker than expected. He would then take a quick nap and go at it again.
His brothers had tried to understand him, but it was impossible. None of them knew where his might came. Perhaps it came from the pounds of snacks he would eat every day, or some invention to minimise sleeping time. They didn’t know what was happening. However, they knew how unhealthy it was for him. They saw it in his huge dark circles, his hunched posture, his irritability. They had to help him somehow.
They had been trying to get him out of his lab, to strip his attention away from his huge screen. They succeeded twice before giving up. He was too stubborn for his own good, especially with his invention. Furthermore, they let him live in his own world, assuring that he would eat twice a day. Real meal, not sugary things.
“This time, it’s the one !” The youngest turtle exclaimed as he poured some rice into plates. The leader sat at the table.
“It smells very good.” He smiled, grabbing his fork. Raphael had carved them some forks after breaking all the ones they had.
“I know !” Michelangelo exclaimed. “I changed some little things. I put more salt in the broth to deepen the flavour. I also had some spices in the mushrooms and—”
Leonardo and Raphael glanced at each other. It was impossible to stop their younger brother when he was rambling about his cooking.
They heard a soft noise echoing in the lair. They didn’t even need to look away from their plates to understand what it was. It was their father, coming to eat with them. Silence fell on the room as the three brothers waited for their father to come to the table.
The old rat had become slower, his incredible speed disappearing under the weight of arthritis. He was less acute, his hearing dropping significantly. He didn’t tell his sons about it, obviously. He didn’t want to make them sad or anything, but they weren’t dumb. They could clearly see old age’s impact on their father. However, they never mentioned it, not in front of him.
It was with a heavy heart that they looked at him sitting, a little grimace appearing on his face.
“This smells very good, Mikey. He exclaimed, a big smile on his quivering lips. Then, his smile dropped as he planted his fork in the dish. “But… You don’t like mushrooms. Why are there mushrooms in it ?”
“I… My taste changed, I guess.” He explained, looking at his plate.
He had been eating mushrooms for months.
They started eating, forcing a light banter between them. They joked about how Mikey’s voice had deepened lately, on how Raphael had started to knit another outfit for Purrl, even on how Leonardo had started to quote random philosophers. But their heart wasn’t in it. It wasn’t like before.
“Your risotto is really good, Mikey.”
“Thanks, Dad ! I’m getting the hang of it, I guess.”
“Actually, it’s better than the one we ate at dis’ party.” Said Raphael in a muffled voice, his face stuffed with rice.
“Are you crazy ? It’s not even close !”
“Are ya’ kidding ? It’s delicious !” He defended, swallowing with a big gulp.
“Raph is right.” Leo nodded, finishing his plate with eagerness. “It’s the best thing I ever ate in my whole life !”
“Stop being nice, guys.” The younger turtle sighed, pushing a mushroom with his finger, defeated. “It’s still missing something. It’s not perfect.”
“Mikey. Ya’ rice is incredible ! Stop ya bullshit and just accept the compliment ! ”
“Raph… I don’t think that…”
“Shut it, Leo ! This rice is incredible ! He is a master of risotto !”
“He is, but… It’s not the best way to put it, you know.” He tried to explain. But the red turtle wasn’t having it. He couldn’t understand how his brother couldn’t see how amazing his cooking was. His obsession with that dish was worse than Donnie’s with This was damn frustrating to him.
“Guys ! Guys ! You have to see this !”
Donatello’s voice cut through the arguing. Leonardo immediately stood up. Mikey and Raphael got silent, looking away.
“What is happening, Donnie ?”
“There is going to be a big meeting tonight, at the docks. However, it’s not only the Purple Dragons. The Foot are going to be there too. The police don’t know at which exact place the meeting is going to take place. But I did some research, and everything is pointing to a dock in Brooklyn. More precisely, the Red Hook Dock, which is the perfect place for such an important gathering.”
They were looking at him with big eyes. The purple turtle’s mind had always been impressive, so impressive that they couldn’t understand how he managed to get theses informations.
“How do you know ?” The leader asked, his fingers gripping his chair.
“It has to be there.” He resumed, scrolling on his gauntlet. “It’s in the middle of the two territories. It’s huge. Both clans have a tendency to meet in big open areas at night, where there isn’t much surveillance. Red Hood Dock is the place they are going to meet tonight , I’m sure of it.” He adjusted his glasses that were sliding from his jittery movement to explain. “And if my calculations are correct, it should happen around 2 or 4 tonight. We have the time to go to patrol before the meeting.”
A big silence.
Donatello was a genius. His thoughts were already hours ahead, and their brothers knew it. That was the problem. He had been so anchored in the future lately, that the present was just a foreign concept to him. At first, they had found it useful. They never had to worry about missing any details or wondering if his plan B would work. Donnie already had seven different outcomes in his head, each one with two solutions. But it was taking a toll on him. It was becoming more and more difficult to see him so tired and obsessed about what could happen. He was chained in his projections, in his theories, and they couldn’t leave it like that. They had to do something. But he was so stubborn that it was impossible to knock some sense into him.
“Donnie… What did the police say?” The leader sighed, trying to keep calm.
“The police ? They don’t know about this. I just told you that I did all the calculations.” He looked back at his gauntlet, muttering under his breath.
Leonardo sighed, stretching his limbs. His brothers and father gave him their (soutinet), nodding.
This would be a tough conversation.
“What if you were wrong ?”
“What ?” He wasn’t paying attention to him, typing something on his holographic keyboard. He was searching for the coordinates of Red Hook Docks, as well as the best places to put hearing devices. His eyes were focused on the screen, straining from fatigue.
“What if your calculations and your theories…” He took a deep breath. “What if they were wrong ?”
That made him stop. He slowly raised his head, licking his lips. He didn’t say anything at first, as if he couldn’t express exactly what he wanted. Being scared that he was wrong was a thing, but doubting him like that was another. He couldn’t help but feel confused, vexed even. He exhaled shakily, frowning.
“I’m never wrong.”
He was right. That was the most annoying part of it. He really was never wrong.
“What’s the problem, Leo ? If you are scared that my calculations aren’t exact, I can run them again.” His head was already back on his gauntlet. He chuckled to himself. “The result won’t change though.”
“Donnie… It’s…” He groaned in frustration, taking a step toward his brother. "We can’t just take the risks to be discovered based on assumptions and theories.”
Assumptions ? Theories ? What was he implying ? Did he really think that he could be so careless ? After all of theses researches, Leo really thought that he was forgetting some elements ? He had used this technic for months now. Searching for hints alone, completing what he could with police’s files, and using his logic to find the correct place. It was always like that ! How could simple assumptions saved hundred of citizens in some weeks ? How could vague theories could have helped preventing terrorist attacks ?
He choose to stay calm. Temper would lead to nothing. He just needed to prove his point, as always.
“It’s not assumptions. I know it’s going to be there. It’s the only logical place.”
Leonardo's fists clenched, his jaw set. Raphael and Michelangelo looked at each other, then at their father. The old rat looked at his sons, still eating his rice. In the distance, the vibration of the subway.
“Donnie.. We can’t just barge there and… and what ? Stop the meeting ? There would be too many of them. And… And there’s the police in this sector; it’s not Chief Vincent’s squad. We can’t take the risk of more people knowing about us.”
“You don ‘t understand ! We have to go there ! It’s… » He ticked his tongue, pacing back and forth. His tone had changed. His confusion had turned into annoyance. « If you are scared of danger, we could… We could just go on patrol, and put some hearing devices to record their meeting. We don’t have to stay there. » His movement stopped as he turned toward his brother. « We need information about them; they are our enemies. They are dangerous.”
He knew that he was being pushy, it could feel it. But his brother should know how important this was ! He was the leader ! He should know that gathering information was strategic.
“Alright. Listen.” He listened carefully, bracing himself for his answer. “We are going to this place, and wait near until something happens. And if Chief Vincent gives you information about another place, we will go there.”
Donatello nodded, understanding his brother’s point. However, he couldn’t help but still feel a remnant of annoyance.
“There won’t be another place. It’s going to be there, trust me.”
Leonardo sighed as he looked at Donatello. In the last months, he had learned to see beyond the genius. He had learned to see past his thick glasses and skulls. He could see the stubbornness in his eyes. The way his forehead was covered with wrinkles. He was annoyed.
But there was something else, something he couldn’t pinpoint. What could it be ?
Lack of confidence ? Yeah. It probably was that. What could he do or say to make him feel better ? After some seconds of silence, he chose to stay honest with his brother.
“I trust you, Donnie. I really do.”
Donatello’s eyes settled on Leonardo’s, trying to decipher any hint of a lie. He didn’t found any. He sighed in relief.
“Thank you, Leo.”
They smiled at each other and Donatello actually sat with them to eat something.
Leonardo's shoulders relaxed, glancing at his other brothers. Raphael was inspecting his fork, as if nothing had happened. Mikey shrugged, sharing his relief. Their father was acting like verything was alright.
Honestly, I don't know why I fixated on this. Also, the title just made me laugh.
I was writing what I consider a ‘part 2’ to the Spring Shed blurb, but then there was going to be a line in that where Donnie pees while he and reader are both in the bathroom getting ready for bed. Couples do that. I like the realism. Anyway, the mention of it was going to be all of a single sentence, but then I went down a rabbit hole of how large mutant turtles would use the bathroom if they had more turtle leaning anatomy, and then this happened.
Except I decided to give Leo a try. Look at me branching out.
SFW, unless you consider talk of going #1 problematic. Just a weird slice of life (I guess you could call it that).
Word count: 1,700
Your bathroom was tiny. Why was it so tiny? He knew you lived in a small apartment, but this? This was ridiculous. In fact, how did anything get done in here? There barely seemed room to turn around.
With hands on hips Leonardo stood before the porcelain toilet bowl and grimly assessed his next move.
Your commode was unfortunately tucked into a sort of nook between the wall and sink, and the narrow space left him little to no room to maneuver, despite his ninja agility.
Still, he tried, and confirmed that a forward approach was risky because he couldn’t get his legs on either side of the bowl well enough to get the angle he needed, and a backwards approach was nigh on impossible, what with the shell and all.
He bit down his sigh of frustration.
If he’d been human, this would be so easy. All he’d have to do is unzip his pants and aim. But he wasn’t human, and his equipment wasn’t located on his body quite the same. No, it was instead in his tail, which was right now tucked between his legs under his boxer briefs and twitching slightly from how badly he had to go.
With a sour curl to his lip Leo again wondered why on earth the mutation left that part au natural. It gave him human-like arms and legs and eyes and he was bipedal because of it, so why keep that bit as was? Surveying the angles of approach to the toilet again, he cursed his turtle anatomy.
What was he going to do?
The first thing he should have done was scope your bathroom out the one other time he’d been in your apartment. What had he been thinking? A ninja should always know his surroundings.
Second, he should have made sure he peed before rushing out of the lair. It was only he’d been so distracted by the thought of seeing you alone, that he didn’t think of it. When you’d called and told him your Tea of the Month Club package had been delivered, and then asked if he wanted to swing by for a cup if he wasn’t busy, he was up and on his feet before he realized it. Yes, it was true that he and his brothers might not have known you for all that long, but there was something about the way you would smile at him that tickled a part of his brain, a tickle he found hard to ignore, though goodness knows he tried.
Which led him to this moment, and this tiny, tiny bathroom.
At home in the lair this wasn’t an issue. Given that reptilian cloacas were a slit and not a hose, Donnie had modified their bathrooms to accommodate their uniqueness and so they could sit without fear of breaking something or their tails dipping into the water. And at April’s apartment they simply used the shower as a urinal because over time they’d all learned that that was just less problematic (and easy to clean).
Here, in your shoebox of an apartment, however, even that wasn’t an option. Your shower was also petite and enclosed in glass and there was no way he could wedge his shell in through that small door without scraping and possibly breaking something. And wouldn’t that just be perfect? He finally gets to spend some time with you one on one, and what does he do? He shatters your shower glass.
Hands still on hips, Leo lifted his face to the ceiling, silently cursing.
So his choice was between likely missing the bowl entirely because he couldn’t position right, possibly breaking your shower, or lying so he could go to the roof and relieve himself. And he’d have to say something. He couldn’t just sneak out because you were sitting and waiting for him right next to the only window that was large enough to accommodate him.
His dignity hated all these options, and with leg bouncing because of the strain on his bladder, Leo took a deep, meditative breath to calm down.
Mind over matter.
He would just hold it. Simple as that.
It was only a cup of tea or two, and it was only a full bladder. He’d been through worse endurance strain in the hashi plenty of times.
Or he could just figure it out and urinate, he scolded himself, eyeing the bathroom sink.
What? No. He was civilized. He would not be peeing in your sink, but he had to think of something. After all, he wanted to be able to come and spend time here, with you, and he could never admit to you that he had to go outside to urinate like a dog because your bathroom didn’t meet his needs. So he just needed to—
Leo froze when you knocked softly at the bathroom door and called his name, and then embarrassment rose up to swallow him like floodwater. How long had he been in the bathroom? It hadn’t seemed like that long, not long enough for you to come looking for him, that is.
“Leo?” You say from the other side of the door, also sounding a little embarrassed. He also hears you clear your throat when he fails to immediately respond. “So, um…Donnie was here the other day and he dropped off some stuff. Some medical supplies as a precaution and…and some other things he said you guys might need… Um, look below the sink, just in case you, uh…yeah, just have a look.”
And with that you quickly retreat back to the living room, leaving Leo to blink at the back of the closed bathroom door.
Donnie did…what?
With some trepidation Leo then knelt down to peer into the little storage space under your sink, and there amongst your hair dryer, curling iron, and other miscellaneous items, he spied a very Donnie like box of medical supplies along with a black canvas drawstring bag and his hope soared.
Oh Donnie. Blessed Donnie. He was 100% being excused from patrol the next time he asked.
Inside of the bag was a bit of kit Leo hadn’t seen since April’s old apartment years ago, but was thrilled to see now. The flexible funnel with an attachable tube was something a much younger Donnie had first rigged up back in those early days of knowing April. She, too, had had a small bathroom back then, though not quite as bad as yours.
The aid was simple, and easy to direct and easy to clean and Leo had never been happier to see it, even though embarrassment washed over him again because now he knew you knew. Still, the pressure to relieve himself overrode his embarrassment and his hand was on the button of his pants before he realized it.
Now equipped with — and he hated this, but Mike had dubbed the thing the T-Wee when they were young — he did his business quickly. Then he cleaned both it and his hands thoroughly before returning it to its canvas bag and shoving it back under the sink like he could rehide this secret. He knew he shouldn’t be embarrassed about it. They were just formed differently and this world wasn’t made for them, but he still felt his cheeks warm at the thought of going back out to face you and you knew that he needed help to do something as simple as urinate in your bathroom.
Standing, he caught his reflection in the vanity mirror and grimaced at how deep the frown lines were creased upon his face and scrubbed a hand hard over his forehead as if it could wipe the lines away. That failing, he then took a deep breath to gather himself before exiting the bathroom. He couldn’t hide in there forever, after all.
The tea kettle began to whistle as Leo found you in the kitchen. You were just finishing setting up a tray of tea things with two cups, two spoons, two napkins, and one larger plate of sweets in the center. It was so charming, he noted, the way you had arranged the assortment of cookies on that little plate meant for the two of you to share. Also charming was the way you smiled at him as you looked up from your work to see him hovering there just outside the entrance to your tiny kitchen.
“Did you find what you needed?” You asked nonchalantly and Leo couldn’t help but dart his eyes away to focus on some wayward junkmail you had left sitting on the counter.
“I did,” he replied quietly, and hoped you wouldn’t ask more. Mercifully you did not and instead moved to pour the hot water into your pretty blue teapot and then placed it too on the tray before lifting it all and walking towards your coffee table. Leo blinked and remembered his manners in time to take the tray from you before you’d taken two steps, and as he did your fingers brushed his.
You both stall there for a moment, looking at where your hands had touched. Then you smiled again as you looked up into his face.
“Good,” you almost whisper before seeming to remember to find your voice and saying, “I…I just want you guys to feel welcome here. Anytime. Alright?”
You say it so sweetly that Leo’s breath catches in his throat as you continue past him into the living room and then take your seat on the couch, waiting for him to follow with the tea.
It took Leo another deep breath to calm his slightly racing heart before he could make his feet move.
“You’re a very thoughtful host,” he reassured quietly, thankful for your acceptance, or at the very least your discretion.
Leo gently set the tray down on the coffee table before taking his seat next to you. Then with a soft smile of his own he offers to pour your first cup of tea.
Bayverse!TMNT and the sacrifices for their human girlfriend
Leonardo:
If his girlfriend's life is on the line, Leo will completely shatter the ninja code of secrecy. He would march out into the middle of Times Square in broad daylight if that is what it took to save her, fully exposing the existence of mutants to the world without a second thought.
He would willingly disobey a direct order from Master Splinter. If Splinter told him that rescuing her was a tactical trap that endangered the brothers, Leo would hand over his twin katanas, step down as leader, and walk out of the lair alone. He would rather become a rogue ninja and lose his title than lose her.
Raphael:
Raph would drop his pride entirely. If an enemy had her cornered and the only way to save her was to surrender, the angriest, most aggressive brawler in New York would literally drop his sai and fall to his knees. He would beg. For Raph to look an enemy in the eye and say, "Take me, let her go," is the ultimate destruction of his tough-guy ego.
On the flip side, if an enemy hurt her, Raph would break the "honorable combat" rule. He wouldn't fight fair. He wouldn't care about the ninja code of discipline. He would unleash a level of sheer, unhinged brutality that would genuinely terrify his brothers, completely abandoning his self-control.
Donatello:
Donnie would completely abandon reason. If she was caught in a situation where she only had a 0.001% chance of survival, the logical move would be to retreat and regroup. Donnie would ignore the math. He would throw himself into an entirely suicidal mission, letting pure, irrational emotion override his intellect for the first time in his life.
To keep her safe from the Foot Clan or TCRI, Donnie would break every digital law on the planet. He would hack government databases, delete her existence from public records, drain the bank accounts of anyone who threatened her, and turn city infrastructure into a weapon. He would weaponize his genius in a way that crosses every ethical line he usually upholds.
Michelangelo:
If his girlfriend is threatened, the jokes die immediately. He would stop holding back. Mikey is arguably the most naturally gifted and agile of the brothers, but he uses his nunchucks playfully. For her, he would drop the flashy tricks and become a cold, ruthlessly efficient weapon.
Mikey would be willing to permanently lose his innocence. Master Splinter taught them to incapacitate, not destroy. But if someone put their hands on the woman who made Mikey feel like he belonged in the world, he would cross the line from vigilante to executioner, sacrificing his own sunny soul so she wouldn't have to get hurt.
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