need you to do art for one of my fics 😭😭😭 i love your art style sm your use of colors is so freaking pretty i wanna ride a motorcycle off a cliff onto a train 😭😭😭 crying anii you’re so good
TYSM MOON!!!! you have no idea how happy seeing u in my notes and inbox made me <33
FUCK YOU TIME! I’m aware I’m an hour and a half late, but I finished the chapter, so HA. I know nobody cares, but I’m happy with myself. Previous chapter is at the bottom of the page, of course.
Chapter 4
"Why, pray tell, don't you trust me?"
"Because you're being paranoid." Mikey gets into position at the top of the ramp as you scroll through your phone absentmindedly, watching your friends back home sincerely mourning your death. "I am an ex-peer-ee-onsed skateboarder and ninja. This is gonna be epic."
"As someone who saw that episode," you reassure him, sighing at your mother's inactivity online confirming your suspicions for the umpteenth time, "you are absolutely going to get in trouble." The lair is a mess, the ramp more so, and the entire situation is so obviously the inciting incident that you're half convinced that the universe itself is pranking you. You slid the phone into your pocket, not really in the mood to start crying again. "In fact, this is directly related to the theme of the episode. In other words, don't do it."
"Relax, dude." He sets himself up. "I am totally gonna make this jump and it is going to be sweet."
"Theme?" Donatello pipes up from his place on the ground in front of the ramp. "The first major constituent of a clause?"
You blink. "No, the new Subway footlong. What the fuck are you talking about?"
"That's the definition of theme."
"Who uses that definition? Grammar teachers?"
"The dictionary."
You are dumbfounded. "Why would I— do you know how people usually use that word?"
"People usually use that word at all?"
You look over at Raphael and Leonardo, who are on the floor next to him, and who seem completely disinterested. "Do you guys—"
"No. Who uses the word 'theme'?" Raphael rolls his eyes. "Mikey, do you plan on jumping today?"
"Wait, so none of you have ever used that word in a literary sense?"
"There's a literary sense?"
You sigh. "In hindsight, I guess that makes sense, since— Mikey, you're gonna get grounded for it."
"Will not."
"Will too. Donnie, when you inevitably get grounded for this, after your grounding is over, come to my apartment. I'm teaching you literary analysis because that is ridiculous." You get to your feet. "Oh," you say, "before I go, when he grounds you, don't go out. If you get into trouble while you're out, get me, and if he asks why you're tired, say it was a movie marathon, and if he asks which movies, Lord of The Rings. See ya." You run out as you hear the shouts of their father telling them to stop.
You walk back up to the surface via the empty subway tunnel. You had quickly realized that it was infinitely less gross than going through the sewers, and your apartment already smelled enough like raw sewage from the amount of time you had started spending down there. You have considered buying new clothes with your quickly appreciating bank account, but you could not bring yourself to look, even with your new freedom. Maybe it was a lack of motivation? You do not exactly know. More likely is your complete lack of inspiration and faith in your own choices, but what do I know?
You start down the street to your building. You would not go so far as to say it felt like home, but you had become more accustomed to it. You had learned the bellboy’s name, nodded to neighbors. It is not a stunning amount of progress, but it is progress. You spend most of your days now, if not re-watching whatever episode is relevant next, for the first time, cyberstalking people you knew from back home. How courteous of that organization to give you an up-to-date feed of life moving on without you; at least you get to see your cousins.
You do not remember the actual walk. You remember getting to your apartment, walking right by your refrigerator, and collapsing onto the bed.
You feel like shit.
You roll onto your back, going right back to stalking. You are not sure why you bother making yourself feel worse. You tried messaging them to absolutely no avail. You cannot comment on posts, either. You know this. You still grasp onto this shred from your past. It just makes you sad. Why are you doing this to yourself?
You feel a lump rise in your throat. You close the window.
You curl around your pillow, hugging it tightly. You the sound of your fingers against the screen was the only thing to permeate the room. You are following a tangent, looking for a book you were interested in a century ago. Something about a pervert? You forget.
You miss home.
—
You do not even need to look up from your phone; the panting is enough. "I'm going to take a wild guess."
"I know you said to come get you," Donnie gushed, "but it was 2 in the morning and I totally forgot and I was freaking out about this new invention and—"
You set the e-book down, walking over and grasping his hands gently. "Take a deep breath, alright? You're gonna be fine, so long as you chill out and think."
"Baxter Stockman is serious business."
"I know, honey, but you gotta calm down, alright?" You slowly pull him down to sit on the bed.
"He snapped my staff with his freakin hand!"
"You are going to go through at least 2 more of those bad boys. Breathe with me." You inhale deeply. "In."
He mimics you.
"Out."
He follows suit.
"Okay. Are you good?"
His breathing slows. He swallows, nods. "Okay, I'm calm."
"Awesome. Now, I'm gonna give you a mini version of our lesson, alright? Is that okay?" The irony of you trying to calm down the trained ninja is not lost on you.
"Yeah, alright." He nodded.
"Alright. Let's start off with the basics." You sit yourself up properly. "Now, this is a kid's show, right?"
"If you say so, yeah."
"The thing about kids shows is that there's usually a moral to each of the episodes."
"Okay."
You put up one finger. "At the beginning of the episode, you guys got grounded, right?"
He nodded.
"You guys snuck out, and you got into a fight with Stockman. That fight is the reason he's after you, right?" You try to speak relatively clearly and, more importantly, calmly.
"Yeah." He seems to respond relatively positively to this.
"And then,” you continue, putting up a second finger, “Mikey losing the t-pod and not telling anyone is what lead to Stockman getting powerful, right?”
He nodded.
“In both instances, the problem was a lack of transparency, right? Not asking for help for fear of getting in trouble?”
He nodded again.
“So,” you nod with him, “the way to fix this is?”
“To ask for help regardless of whether or not it will get us in trouble with Splinter?”
“Exactly.” You smile encouragingly. “Why?”
“Because that’s the message of the episode?”
“You really are quick to catch on.” You get to your feet. “I’m not surprised you’re the brains of the group.”
“Really?” His eyes lit up.
“Most definitely. Now,” you get to your feet, “as much as I love when we talk, and as much as I owe you a lesson on how to identify these sorts of things on your own, I’m sure your brothers could use that advice right about now.”
“Right!” He gets up. “Thank you, again.”
“My pleasure, my guy. Oh, hit me up when you’re off of your grounding so I can figure out a lesson plan.”
“You got it.” He climbed out of the window. “See you then, Y/N.”
“Kick their asses.” You wave as he disappears into the night.
Your smile slowly slides off your face as you close the window. You pick your phone up to check the time.
You toss it onto the bed. ‘I’m making cupcakes.’ You have not eaten in what feels like a while. You are already out of bed. Might as well.
--
“She called me honey.”
Raphael rolls his eyes. “I’m telling you, there’s no way that a girl like her is going to be into you. You’re delusional.”
“Honey is a pet name!” Donatello’s voice rises slightly. “And—and she invited me to her place after we aren’t grounded!”
“Let him believe.” Leonardo pipes up from in front of the television. “I think it’s nice that he and she are as close of friends as they are so quick.”
“For the record, I’m rooting for ya, bro.” Mikey takes another bite out of his pizza. “Sure, you’re a little creepy, but so is she, so it works out.”
He scoffs. “Aren’t you three forgetting something? Like, I don’t know, that we’re turtles? Is the fact that she’s an entirely different species not a factor?”
“Part turtle.” He speaks incredibly fast. “Our DNA is mutated with—”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re holding onto that technicality real tight, aren’t you?” He stabs the dummy in the gut. “A technicality that I’m sure she cares about.”
“I did the research.” He gets to his feet, running over and grabbing a diagram from his lab. “We’re physically compatible.”
“Donnie. Brother. No.” He stops. “Please tell me you didn’t seriously look into whether or not you could fuck her. I know you like this girl, but come on.”
“I didn’t go out of my way to research how our reproductive system works for this.” He tosses it back into his lab, sliding the door closed. “I did that research a while back. I just had to investigate reproduction on the female end to make sure everything worked.” He stands up straight. “Theoretically, we are fully capable of reproducing with humans.”
“Theoretically?” Leo looks back at him.
He feels his face go red. “Well, there isn’t any clinical research done on the subject. We’re the only ones of our kind, after all, and I don’t have any female samples to use.”
“For fuck’s sake, Donnie, do not ask her for ‘samples’.” He gags. “That’s just fucking gross.”
“I wasn’t going to!”
“You were. I’d bet money on it.”
“Ten bucks says he still will.” Mikey drops the rest of it down his throat.
“Hey!”
“Dude, you’re freakier than I am. I love you but come on.” He lays back on the couch.
“Y’all are just gross.” He stabbed the dummy in the neck, sand pouring out of the hole. “We need a more durable dummy.”
“You could just not break the ones I make.” He sits down on the couch. “That’s an option.”
“It’s a literal punching bag. It’s a show of love.”
The episode ends. Leo walked over to the two on the couch, sitting on the other side of his lanky brother as Michelangelo scrounges for crumbs. “Look, it might be jumping the gun a bit to start researching if you guys can have kids. You guys aren’t even in a relationship.”
“I know.” He rubs his face with his hands. “I dunno, man. What am I doing?”
“Exactly.” He pats him on the back. “I’m not saying it could never happen, but this is a little much.”
He sighs. “Yeah, that’s true.”
“We wouldn’t lie to you.” He gets to his feet. “I’m gonna go meditate for a while. You wanna join me?”
“I’m good.” Donnie hopped over the back of the couch. “I’m gonna go work on this thing I’ve been working on.”
“Alright, man.” He walks off to the dojo.
He steps into his lab, sliding the door closed behind him. He sits at his workstation, a half-finished robot sat on the table. He slides his tongue in the space between his teeth absentmindedly as he goes back to connecting wires.
‘She used the past tense. Had, she said.’ He bounces his knee absentmindedly, reaching for the soldering iron. ‘But she called me honey. She called me hot stuff. Is that an insult?” He tests the joints. ‘I don’t remember.’
He sets his project down for a second. He opens his laptop, smiling gently at his screen saver. It is a photo you had emailed him of the two of you to show you how it worked.
‘I should make a camera. Or find one. A digital one.’ He sighs, closing it. ‘She is absolutely gorgeous.’
He goes back to work, still feeling your fingers around his.
HAHAHAHAHA I THOUGHT IT WAS SATURDAY ALL DAMN DAY AND I’M SITTING HERE LIKE LA-D-FUCKING-DA WHEN I NEED TO BE EDITING RESOL’NARE P3 HAHAHAHA in the words of hermione granger, “what an idiot.”
going to experience bacchantian ecstasy by dancing in the forest, eating pussy and drinking wine and not killing anyone to flex on 4 US american pasty rich kids
