#rise!leo

[el-pada]

its june, of course i had to draw them

[definitelynotshouting]

hands the rise fandom another suspiciously shaped ticking package. dont even woarry about it<3👍

A rustle from the other end of the train car. "He asleep?" April asks, tense. Donnie's hand falters over his shell for a moment, then drifts back up to rest over Leo's neck. Gently, it presses in beneath his jaw, the persistent thump, thump, thump of his raddled heart cascading from carotid to the tips of Donnie's clever fingers; a data transference, the slipstream surge of information all centered in the rhythmic adagio of Leo's desolate pulse. Donnie's hand shuffles away again before reappearing at his right wrist to take the same measurements. His fingers coalesce in a ring around it for far longer than necessary, thumb rubbing in slow, distant sweeps over the soft skin just below Leo's calloused palm— the most unassailably human part of him. Beneath his plastron, Donnie's weight shifts, rearranging the way he's nudged Leo to drape over him with tiny, precise motions; the kind of meticulous care reserved only for the most delicate of experiments; the fine-boned cadence of two steady hands. "His heart rate is consistent with stage one NREM sleep, so— yes, I believe so." The hand at his wrist drifts across his pulse point one last time before coming to rest with warm, insistent pressure against the top of his nuchal scute. April sniffs, suspiciously wet. "Good." Then, tremulous: "What even was all that?" Donnie's next breath hitches in the middle, stuttering back from the meditative pattern he'd cycled under Leo for well over an hour— a missed stitch in the downy, woolen haze Leo now floats in. "Best guess? Panic attack with an extra side of meltdown." Donnie pauses, and even mired in fog Leo still constructs the image of sharp teeth digging into Donnie's lower lip effortlessly. Deep in his mind's eye and on the edge of sleep, Donnie worries at it, chewing with a middle-distant stare as he churns over whatever words he's dredging next. "The real question," he says at length, "is why, and what exactly triggered it." "That big brain of yours don't have any ideas?" Donnie snorts. "Well, obviously it has to do with the invasion— who could have guessed, shocker, I know!— but the data I don't have are any of the specifics." Pensive silence palls around them. "It must've been bad," Donnie murmurs, "to affect him like this." "Yeah," April agrees somewhat faintly. "Must have." Donnie's hand shifts to cup the back of Leo's head, a protective curl forward that brings Leo even closer under his chin. The animal instinct to run, freeze, hide slowly suffocates beneath its gentle heat, and Leo slides another inch deeper into the drowsy haar of half-consciousness. "He hasn't said anything about the— uh," April says abruptly, a whistle in the quiet. "You are going to have to be way more specific than that." Donnie's voice is dry. April sucks in a sharp breath. "The prison dimension." She says it plain, and a distant, muffled jolt lances down Leo's spine. "He hasn't talked to you about it? Said anything about what happened?"

Donnie hunches over him a fraction of an inch further. "No," he says, voice throbbing. "Nothing?" "Less than." An inarticulate noise rattles in the back of his throat: half-scoff, half–bitten-off–hiss. Pressed flush to the soft underside of his jaw, it thrums in Leo's browbone. "He's…" A rapid shake, skimming over Leo's head. "I… contrary to popular belief, I do have an understanding of emotional behaviors and processes, but this is… I don't know." The words fount as if torn from the meat of his throat, dyed red and dripping helpless viscera. "I just don't know, April. He's been— weird." "You mean weirder than usual?" A hint of wry amusement flickers to life in April's voice only to gutter just as fast. "Weird how?" "I don't even know how to describe it," Donnie repeats, every subsequent syllable coiling around the room tighter, tighter, into the frayed silhouette of a noose. "He's not… something's different, but I just can't put my finger on it. He isn't Leo anymore."

[obsidianfury1986]

Thank you so much @sara-the-wizard !! I love this sooo much!!

And Leo really thought I also had my legs ripped off by lost souls 🤣

Goofball 🤣

To understand more about having my 'legs ripped off' and the lost souls, read the "I Care" comic by @sara-the-wizard

[unbakedturtledoodles]

Get those turtle men some alcohol NOW!

And me too, please. This semester is killing me.

Characters are depicted 18+, I do not condone underage drinking.

[cansortofdraw]

Added April O'Neil

Full Series -- Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Non-TMNT: SOC

[khayalli]

some soft, sweet and domestic moments for the boys this valentines day!

[necrosishead]

Leo and Donnie bonding?

does this count?

[turtlecleric]

When Leo steps through a portal and into your living room, he's greeted by the sight of you hunched over your laptop on the couch. You barely glance up at him, mumbling something he doesn't catch, before turning back to what you're working on.

You're clearly stressed. Every line of your body is tense; heavy bags hang under your eyes, and your hair is tossed into a messy ponytail. He wonders if you've eaten. He wonders if you even slept at all last night. Probably not, since you're still wearing your work clothes from yesterday.

Ohhh no. He's going to fix this.

You let out a shocked squeak of protest as Leo snatches your laptop and snaps it shut. Before you can manage to speak, he puts the laptop on a high shelf then turns to smirk at you. “You need a break.”

“I need to finish my report,” you reply, eyeing your laptop where it's been placed, completely out of your reach.

“Is it due tomorrow?” he asks.

You open your mouth and then close it again without answering.

“I'll take that as a no.” He extends a hand, helping you up even as you grumble and roll your eyes. “Go take a shower and get into some comfy clothes.”

“But-”

“Nope, didn't ask, now go.”

You heave a sigh but turn and head towards the bathroom anyway. Leo waits until he hears the shower running, then gets to work. By the time you return, the apartment has been tidied, your favorite candle has been lit, there's a spread of pizza rolls sitting on the coffee table, your favorite comfort show is paused on the tv, and he's sitting on one end of the couch, waiting for you patiently.

He smiles softly when he sees you, wearing an enormous t-shirt that hangs down to your knees. You look much more comfortable now, though exhaustion is still evident in the droop of your shoulders. When you take in everything, he sees your eyes shine and your expression break into something like relief.

“C'mere,” he says, as soft and inviting as the pillow he has propped against his leg. You practically collapse after you crawl onto the couch, resting your head on the pillow. He presses play, gently running his fingers through your hair as you melt into the touch. He pulls the coffee table within reach using his foot, and you sniffle as you reach for a pizza roll. You didn't realize how hungry you were, really. Or how tired. You get through most of the pizza rolls, but you're asleep before the end of the first episode. Leo continues to pet you, eyes on the screen but not really seeing.

Time passes. Episodes continue to play, unmatched. The last of the pizza rolls go cold, and the room fills with the smell of your candle, the light outside the window dims into darkness, and Leo thinks. And thinks. And thinks.

You make a sound in your sleep, a quick intake of breath, and it pulls him out of his head all at once. Leo blinks, looking down at you, to see you turn, facing the couch. Another little sound, and then you pull his arm against your chest, holding it close as you quickly drift back to sleep.

Leo feels a familiar pull in his chest at the sight, a reaching, grasping, desperate thing that nestles between his ribs. It scares him, a little. Even after all this time.

He resolves to check on you more often.