#wumpusinthetardis

[zandiiangelspit]

I think some punks picked on the wrong girls and they’re now deciding their fate and which of the brothers they’ll be dealing with, or both? Who knows~

[wumpusandzandii]

Dissonance: Part Two

Human!AU TMNT One Shot for Raph x Stacey

TW: content involving abuse 

Glad for the distraction of inventory for once, Stacey hummed along to the music in the shop, piped in from her phone. It was louder than she usually kept it, but it was nearing midday on a Wednesday, which was one of their slowest times. That, and loud music rarely offended those who frequented bike shops, so she wasn’t concerned about it in the least. Having familiar music and the tedious task of doing the inventory required to shelve new product was enough to keep her mind busy. At least busy enough to keep her overwhelming fears and anxiety at bay. When she was done, she might even prop the door to the shop open and see if they needed an extra hand with any of the bikes they were currently working on. That required even more focus and attention.

Deep back in the shelves, she barely heard the jingle of the bells on the door over the electric guitar riff of the current song. Pausing for a moment as she lifted a set of mufflers to the shelf, she raised an eyebrow, wondering if she heard them at all. “I’ll be up in a minute,” she called out, sliding the box onto the shelf and marking the inventory list on her tablet. Face down, scrolling through the list to see how much more she had to go through, she wandered the familiar shelving aisles out of memory, not looking up until the last one dumped her out at the front desk.

“You keep your hands where I can see ‘em, and your bitch mouth shut.”

Gripping the tablet tightly, the breath went straight out of her chest. She knew she needed her fighting face on that day, but needing it to deal with her father was not what she had intended. The whole day had to be some kind of joke, but it really wasn’t funny. Maybe a nightmare. Maybe it was another nightmare and she’d wake up sweaty with her heart pounding, next to Raph, who would help calm her down and make her feel safe enough to fall back asleep into dreamless dreams. Only she stayed right there, eyes fixed on the balding, snarling man in front of her. “You aren’t supposed to be here,” she rasped, hating how her throat dried out and betrayed her emotions. She was a grown-ass woman, she shouldn’t be afraid of her father.

“Middle of the damn day,” Eli answered, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. “I can do as I fucking please. Last I checked that fucker that was there last time was the ‘nightwatcher,’ not the ‘daywatcher.’ Maybe I’m just looking for parts.”

Squaring her shoulders, Stacey did everything she could to keep her breathing even. She learned at a very young age that showing any weakness only encouraged him… although any response did, to be true. If she acted like she didn’t care, if she acted apologetic for whatever imagined fault, if she was defensive, if she yelled back… it didn’t matter. The end game had always been the same, just varying degrees. She was left battered, bruised, bloody and broken. A small terror clawed its way up her throat, one that hadn’t been a factor before. It wasn’t just her that could get hurt that time. “You need to leave,” she tried to say, but it came out as a meek whisper. Slowly she reached for the phone on the counter, but stopped the instant one of his hands pulled out of his pocket just enough to show the dark black metal of a gun in his grip.

“I wouldn’t do that, Rue, come on. I know you’re stupid, but how many times we gotta go through the fact that you don’t call the cops?” He moved menacingly towards the counter, shaking his head. His inflection on the words brought at least a dozen memories bubbling out of the depths of her mind, where she had stashed them, trying to forget them. She hadn’t heard her middle name since the last time he had addressed her by it, forever amused with how clever he felt for having given her the moniker, for ruing the day she had been born.

Finding herself subconsciously covering her stomach with the tablet, like it was some kind of shield, gave her a moment of pause. Surely, a baby scared her, but not more than the situation in front of her. She had no idea what she was going to do, keep it or not, but she knew damn well that she wouldn’t let Eli take that choice away from her. He had taken enough from her. “Why are you here?” she asked, trying to do anything to stall the inevitable, draw out conversation for the hopes maybe one of the guys would come in from the garage. How would that go, though, really? One of them might get themselves shot, and she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to forgive herself if it was Jax.

“We got shit to settle, little girl,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “Your friend put me in the hospital for a while. My head ain’t been right since.”

“I don’t even know the Nightwatcher, but I doubt he did that much damage,” she answered, her own eyes narrowing in response. Protective hackles up, she couldn’t help herself from continuing. “Your head has never been right, can’t blame that on a vigilante.”

Slapping his free hand on the counter, the glass shuddered and she couldn’t help but avert her eyes momentarily. The old “give a penny - take a penny” cup rattled, the loose coins jostling from the impact. She forced her eyes back up, up to the reddening face that was a tell-tale sign that conversation was almost over and time to move to stage two, his favorite. His nose, bloated and pock-marked from years of alcohol abuse crinkled and purpled as he replied. “You never could learn to watch your mouth, could you? Always lippin’ off, gettin’ yourself in trouble. Well, there ain’t no big burly fucker lurking in the shadows this time, is there? You’re gonna pay for humiliating me, making me look like a pussy at that hospital. All the fucking bills that came for that shit.”

“If it’s money you want, fucking take it,” she snapped, her rage and fear hitting a boiling point. Rage at the situation, and fear because he was right. Raph wasn’t there, couldn’t always be there. Eli would always be the one lurking in her shadows, the one skeleton that refused to stay in its closet. “Take the entire till, I don’t care.”

“I don’t want your fucking money,” he snarled, the point of the pistol forcing an outline against the fabric of his jacket as he pushed it forward. He began moving around the counter, and Stacey instinctively pivoted to keep facing him, but tried to move backwards as well. “Money can’t fix what you did. You did this to me. You made people laugh at me. You disrespected me.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Stacey argued, hoping, willing someone to walk into the shop. Wondering how long he had been watching her to figure out the best time to hit the shop, or if it had just been blind luck that seemed to ever-favor him? “You ruin your own life, Eli. I’ve been out of it for over ten years.”

“You!” he snapped, finally pulling the gun entirely out of his pocket and jabbing it in her direction. Nausea gripped her, scared and hating herself for being scared both at the same time. It was an escalation for him to come at her with a weapon other than his hands or whatever he could get his hands on. He had thought this out, and why, why did it have to be that day of all days? Why the day she knew she had another life inside of her, that she was responsible for? A life that was just barely in existence and already subject to the abuse and fear she had known since she herself was a baby? “It’s always been you, my life was great before you came along and ruined it! And then you dragged in that… that… piece of shit to hurt me!”

“I don’t know who that was!” she lied, but her anger was true. It reached a boiling point, forgetting any plan of trying to calm him down. “It was the Nightwatcher and he was your karma! Karma for all the years of you beating the shit out of me! You deserved it!”

“You little bitch,” he snarled, backing her against the wall and lifting the gun in a backhand gesture. “You earned all those. I shoulda fucked you up worse, look how you turned out.”

“I wish he’d killed you!” she snapped, feeling like she was fifteen again, full of rage, fear and cornered like an animal. She had stood up to him then, and it had almost cost her life. There was so much more for her to live for now, even more fight balling her hands into tight fists.

“You never learn, Rue,” he said in a shaky whisper, tinged with something that sounded like macabre disappointment. His face reddening, she anticipated what was next, and readied herself. Over the years she had taken a few self defense classes, but it just never seemed to be the information she was looking for. She had needed to know how to fight, and that had come along with Raphael. He had helped her some, but struggled to some degree when it came to application. Forever concerned with hurting her, he had deferred to his father once she was ready to test her skills. Raph and Splinter had been excellent teachers, even if she paled in comparison to the boys. She simply couldn’t fail them in that moment.

As he swung the gun down towards her, she stepped forward, startling him in that she didn’t flinch away. Blocking his forearm with her own forearm, she struck out straight, aiming for his throat. She hit true, even if it wasn’t as solid as she would’ve liked due to him stumbling backwards a little. Moving in close again, she kept the space tight, knowing it made aiming the gun more difficult, and that was her best defense. She had very little chance of wrestling it from him grip successfully.

Eli tried bringing the gun up again, and she threw her weight into slamming that arm against the wall. It worked, but at a cost. While she directed her attention at the gun, he was more focused on disabling her, and brought a knee up hard into her stomach. She tried to ignore the fear that bubbled inside of her, quelling the anxiety that came with it. That wasn’t something she could spend focus on, and just as she started to try and get herself upright again, Eli brought an elbow down on her upper back. A fierce cry of frustration wrenched out of her, and she used all the energy she could find into shoving him.

The training had been useless. He was still going to win. He always won, always got his way. Only this time he wouldn’t settle for almost killing her.

Just as panic started to grip her, there was a loud impact from the front of the store, followed by a violent jingling of the bells tied to the door. Wide-eyed, she failed her training again, allowing her attention to be drawn to the source of the commotion just as the glass door swung completely wide and past its hinge stops, shattering in a burst of glistening light. To the side of it was a raging man, his boot coming down from kicking the door in. While it was physically the man she loved, his face was twisted into a blind fury, eyes far gone from those with which he looked at her. Shirtless, in only sweatpants and boots, each muscle in his body flexed, coiled and taut as he stomped through the threshold.

However, her attention had been distracted too long. Her arm was grabbed, and she was swung violently into hold. Eli twisted her arm up behind her back, yanking upward with enough force that there was a sickening pop, and Stacey couldn’t help but cry out. The pain was excruciating, and would’ve dropped her if Eli hadn’t maintained such a forceful grip. He had dislocated her shoulder, but she tried to retain focus on the situation, especially as she felt the cold barrel tip of the pistol press underneath her jaw.

“Not another step!” he yelled at Raph, who acquiesced, but not without visible restraint. His chest heaved, his shoulders were bound up and fists balled tightly and shaking. Eyes unblinking, fixed solely on Eli, his nose and lip were curled in fury and disgust.

“Let her fuckin’ go,” he snarled, his voice expressing no mercy, no hesitation. It was cold, devoid of any of the kindness she heard in it. A wise man would’ve obeyed instantly, seeing his fate as clearly as if it had been spelled out in front of him. Eli was not a wise man though, and made no motion in response. “NOW!”

The door from the garage banged open, a bewildered and furious Jackson attached to the doorknob, followed by one of the mechanics. For a brief second, his face went white as a sheet as he saw Stacey’s position within Eli’s grip, but his color came back when he saw Raphael just beyond the doorway. He stepped more in front of the young mechanic, blocking him. “Yer outnumbered, Eli. Let ‘er go and ya might live.”

“Not before I fuckin’ kill her, you useless piece of shit old man!” Eli yelled, but Stacey was watching Raph. Eli had evidently let his own attention be diverted by Jax, and Raph moved almost too quickly to see in response. Snatching a large piece of glass from the doorframe, he flicked it exactly like she had seen him use shuriken in training. Even knowing his aim was precise, she couldn’t help but flinch her eyes closed as it flashed towards her. The gun dropped away from her jaw at the same time Eli let out a yell, bouncing off her hip before clattering to the floor. Opening her eyes, she briefly saw the jagged glass sticking out of his wrist before doing her best to move away from him, turning in a motion that untwisted her arm and shot bolts of pain back through it. Yelling at the wall, she had no fear of the man now behind her, only trying to give him room to do what he needed to do.

There was only a roar of rage in response before two loud boot strides. Eli still held her arm and tried to pull her back, unwilling to give up his hostage. His grip went slack as the two boots came flying over the counter, connecting with his chest, the entire weight and kinetic motion of the man behind them plowing him against the wall. Staggering out the rest of the way from behind the counter, she made her way to a nearby stock shelf and sagged against it, but turned herself to watch.

“Girl!” Jax addressed her in a harsh whisper, coming up beside her. “Are you-”

Knowing the questioning that would start, Stacey waved him silent, she didn’t have the focus or energy to talk about it or move away. She was transfixed on Raph, who had somehow fluidly landed in a way that kept him from hitting his back on the counter. He stooped and picked up Eli roughly by the front of his jacket, slamming him against the wall hard enough to create an inward dent in the wall, breaking the drywall. “Never touch her!” he seethed, his fist connecting with Eli’s face, his jaw moving at an unnatural angle to his face. “Never!”

“Call the cops,” Stacey whispered, immobilized. It was like watching a train wreck long-coming, like her entire life had been hurtling towards that very moment, it had always been escapable. There were flashes in her mind, remembering the dark night Raph had also come to her aid, though he had been the Nightwatcher, then. Something about him standing in her shop, literally stripped down of his gear made it all that much more realistic. There was no dim light, concussion or dark visors to add surreal effect. Raph stood before her, Eli held in his death grip, fist pulled back for another hit. “He’s gonna kill him.”

“Already had Thomas call,” Jax whispered, just as stunned at the scene in front of him. “Come on, let’s get you in the garage, look you over…”

“No,” she resisted bluntly, hardly blinking and supporting her right arm, trying to keep the weight of it from pulling on the tendons and ligaments. She was at war within herself, part of her wanting nothing more but to watch Raph pummel him into non-existence, bringing his plague on her life to a final end. There would be no self-defense plea with that, however, and there was no jury in New York that would show forgiveness to a hulking black man that beat another man to death with his bare hands. He’d be put away forever, emotional duress wouldn’t even be a blip on their radar. That was only saved for rich, young, “troubled” white men. “I have to stay.”

In between hits, Eli made a feeble attempt at a swing towards Raph with the arm that still had glass sticking out of it. Grabbing the hand and stretching it above Eli, he used his other hand to pinch the glass and shove it the rest of the way through his wrist, yanking roughly out the other side. A cry that was equal parts pain and guttural retching ripped out of Eli. Blood streamed out of his arm, dark and glistening as it dropped to the ground.

How many times had that been her own blood? How many times had she been retching, crying, broken and bleeding at his hands? Watching with fury that raised her to a level of emotional detachment, she didn’t flinch as Raph twisted and rammed him headfirst into the counter, letting him drop to the ground. There was no doubt inside her that he deserved the punishment, earned all the pain numerous times over. Something about Raph cracking his neck as he looked down at the pathetic man sent her crashing back down into emotions, the familiarity reminding her of the risks, exactly what was at stake. Yet her voice strangled and stopped in her throat, unable to call out to him, unable to make him stop. Was Eli being out of her life more important than what made her life worth living?

“Raph!” a familiar voice came from the doorway, calling his attention like she couldn’t. Donatello skidded through the door and over the glass, his eyes rapidly taking in the entire scene around him. He didn’t have the dedication Raph had coming through the door, and his eyes rested on her, wincing painfully before settling back on his brother. “Raph, you have to disengage, police are en route.”

“Better be bringin’ a body bag,” Raph grunted, grabbing up Eli off the floor again by the scruff, giving him solid kicks to the ribs and gut before dragging him over to the glass.

Panic etched lines clearly over Donnie’s face, and he took one step towards Raph before the pure hatred on the face looking back at him made him stop in his tracks. “You can’t,” Donnie implored, his voice quiet.

“I can,” Raph snapped, heaving Eli up higher before throwing him down onto the glass, hard. “And I will.”

Looking up, Donnie locked eyes with Stacey, pleading and apologetic. It was no secret amongst the family that she was generally the most effective at calming him down, and no doubt the same chain of events she feared if Raph did kill Eli was running through his head, just with millions of other possibilities that hadn’t even occurred to her yet. She looked back hopelessly, unsure of how to stop the freight train he had become, not entirely sure if he'd even see her through the red haze of righteous punishment. Giving him a little shake of her head, unable to shrug, she turned and looked at Jax.

“Aww hell, girl,” he sighed, shaking his own head down at his boots. “This is gonna hurt tomorrow.” Walking slowly over to Donnie, he scratched at his silver beard as Raph stomped and rolled Eli into the shattered glass. He gave Donnie a nod, his posture giving certainty of support.

“Raph, enough, you need to take a step-”

“Enough?!” Raph snapped, glass crumbling under his boot hell as he pivoted to look at his brother. “No! Enough was a long fuckin’ time ago. He had his fuckin’ chance before he… before he…” Unable to even finish his sentence, Raph kicked the man on the floor again.

“Enough for you,” Donnie pleaded, hands together. “Don't do this to yourself. Stacey’s hurt and needs-”

“Then check her!” Raph was beyond reason, a man drop kicked past his breaking point and unable to see his way back. She didn't take it personally, his faltering at not being able to even mention what happened showed his true emotion, blanketed by rage. “I ain't doin’ shit to myself but makin’ sure this piece of fuckin’ shit never breathes the same air as her again!”

As he stooped to grab up Eli again, Donnie nodded at Jax and they both rushed forward, each grabbing an arm and hauling Raphael backwards as abruptly as they could. He immediately struggled back up to his feet, but before he could lash out at them for their perceived betrayal, Stacey stepped in front of him, blocking most of his view of Eli. He still fought to release their grips, however the majority of his attention was focused on her. “Get away from him. Move, Stacey.”

“No,” she said simply, unblinking. Her calm voice belied the maelstrom of emotions within her. “You've done enough.”

“How could you… but he… he was…” Raph stammered angrily, words getting jumbled and difficult for him as they tended to when he was emotional. He yanked his arm free from Jax and shot a glare at Donnie before looking back at her. His teeth were clenched tightly, jaw muscle flexing. “You hafta understand.”

Taking a deep breath, she turned and looked at the bloody mess on the floor behind her. Eli was still breathing, but long past consciousness. A large portion of her wanted to agree and step aside, the vindictive part of her that knew no matter how much pain he felt, he'd never understand how much he inflicted. He wasn't fixable, long past any hope of saving as a person, if he ever had been. That death right then and there would be better than he deserved… but maybe that was it. That was the thought that formed into how to reason with Raph, to make him see.

“I do understand, and I want to just let you fucking wreck him,” she started, her own nose curling into something of a snarl, letting the depth of her anger show to him. “I want him to die. I want him to suffer. I want him to die and be brought back just to fucking die again.” Keeping her eyes on him, she saw the conflict of emotions in his face. He was averting his eyes, and to most people he would’ve just looked like an angry, caged animal. But she had never spoken like that to him, generally his voice of calm and reason; yet this time, she was mirroring his own thoughts, his own anger. That alone gave him pause, and was likely one of the few things from keeping him from pushing past her to finish what he started. “But he doesn’t deserve death. He deserves to live through the pain and fucking agony that healing up from this is going to cause.”

Turning away from him, she faced her father, lying facedown on the ground in front of her. A role reversal that got her ire back up, her nails digging into her palms as her hands flexed into tight fists, letting the pain in her right arm fuel her fire. Knowing what Raph didn’t know, that he had risked the life of his unborn, and for all she knew, the impact to her abdomen had ruined. The thought made her anger flare, and she grit her teeth. His arm had come to rest at an odd angle, his wrist bent so his hand was folded under it. Stepping forward in the glass, she stared at him, her pulse racing. “He deserves to suffer!” Raising a foot, she stomped down on his forearm, bones in his own arm making the unmistakable crack of breaking. “He doesn’t deserve to make you go to jail! He doesn’t get to take everything I’ve worked for!”

Once she released her anger, there was no reining it back in. Everything came out in a flood, each point physically made with a stomp to his body, grinding the glass deeper into his flesh. “He has no right! He doesn’t get to take you from me! He doesn’t get to ruin my life, over over and fucking over! He has to live with what he’s fucking done! He has to see! He doesn’t get the easy way out! HE HAS TO FUCKING PAY!” Her dialogue turned into raging growls, her temper past forming words as she kicked and stomped.

The world around her blurred, and she was vaguely aware of a restraining hand on her good arm, which she tried to yank away from. “No! No! He deserves to dig every piece of this glass out of his body!” It was getting harder to stomp on Eli, and she noticed he somehow seemed to be getting farther away. Scowling she tried to concentrate, only to realize it was herself being slowly, gently moved backward. Lunging forward against the grip, she tried kicking again, only to find herself lifted off the ground, a firm arm wrapped around her hips. Letting out a strangled cry of anguish, she struggled futilely as she was carried away into the stock area, the shelves blocking her view from the target of her rage.

“Stacey, you gotta calm down,” came Raph’s low voice, still holding her off the ground. “Come on.”

“Put me down!” she insisted, pressing down on his arm with her left hand, though it held tight with no give. “Let me go!”

“I can’t do that,” he answered, his voice close behind her and obviously forced calm. “Not until you calm down. You’re gonna hurt yourself more.”

The shelves around her blurred, and she tried leaning forward, away from Raph and felt heavy drops of tears fall from her face. She had no idea how long she had been crying, and she grabbed her right arm as the shifting gravity pulled on the joint, causing more pain. “I don’t care! I don’t care!...” she repeated over and over, the words turning into sobs that racked her body.

Slowly she was lowered to the floor, and her knees buckled under her, yet she was held steady. “But I do, I do… come on, it’s gonna be okay…” Raph assured her quietly, repeating himself as she sobbed. When words failed her again and all the strength left her body, the flood receding as quickly as it had taken over her, he turned her carefully, pulling her into his chest and holding her protectively. Crying against his skin, she let herself sink into the feeling, his hand stroking her hair and rubbing her back. “You’re gonna be okay, it’s okay, I’m here…”

As her anger ebbed, the pain swept back in, only adding to her tears. She was grateful for his strength, otherwise she was positive she’d just let herself fall to the floor, wishing everything away. It didn’t escape her the mental strength it must’ve taken him to quell his own anger and see to her. Guilt crept in all over, guilt for not calming him like she had meant to, guilt for bringing him into the mess, guilt for him not knowing the stakes and not having the strength to tell him, guilt for everything. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t you be,” he asserted, shushing her quietly, continuing to hold her, he cheek against the top of her head.

“The police are here,” Donnie said from the front of the store where he’d been quietly discussing things with Jax.

She felt Raph’s posture change, his face lifting to look down the stock shelves. “We’re staying here.”

“Already accounted for, we’ve got this,” Donnie answered, before clearing his throat as the officers walked up to the doorway, their radios announcing their presence. “Hello officers, you’re going to have to call in for two ambulances, one for the perp here and the other for the victim.”

“What in the hell happened here?” one officer asked as the other radioed in the requested EMT support.

“He fell through the door,” Jax answered confidently.

There was a long pause, followed by footsteps crinkling in the glass before the officer answered. “How many times?”

“A few,” Jax said with a sniff, and Stacey knew he was shrugging differentially as he was wont to do when he figured someone had gotten what they deserved. “Clumsy guy, that one. His gun is behind the counter over there, he came after Stacey with it. She’s over in back, calmin’ down.”

“We’re going to need to talk to her,” the officer insisted, getting a wry chuckle out of the old man.

“Good luck with that.”

***

Donnie walked over to the ambulance, sitting with a stubborn Stacey perched at the end of a gurney, wrapped in a blanket. One hand held it, the other tucked into a temporary sling, the paramedics had seen to resetting her shoulder at her insistence. Raph was busy giving his statement to the police, still inside the buildings office where it could be completed in privacy. Leaning his shoulder against the back edge of the rig, he nodded at the EMTs, who moved off to work on entering information into the computer and talking to each other to give them some amount of privacy.

“You still trying to insist you don’t need to go in?” he asked, well aware of the difficulty she’d been giving the paramedics. She sure could be an awful lot like his brother at times, he thought idly, but was still shocked at her reaction to Eli. He’d never seen her lose it like that before, and certainly never to a point that she fought Raph when he tried to calm her down. It was a role reversal, for sure.

“I don’t,” Stacey sniffed, rubbing at a puffy eye with the edge of the blanket. Her voice was raspy and quiet, and she wouldn’t make eye contact with him. “I’ve had worse. My arm is back in. The rest is just bruising. Some ibuprofen and rest for a few days and I’ll be fine.”

“You should really let them scan the shoulder, make sure there isn’t any ligament tearing,” Donnie encouraged, knowing she’d just refuse his advice as much as the EMTs. If anyone had a chance of convincing her, it was Raph, and he wasn’t on hand. “And ibuprofen… Stacey, you’re going to need anti-inflammatories, but did you… did you get that test? I hate asking, but you can’t take ibuprofen if you’re…”

Stacey groaned, burying her face in her free hand, cloaking her face with the blanket. “I can’t… Donnie… he kicked me in the stomach. What if… what the hell do I do?” Her voice was breaking and muffled by the blanket, but he heard enough to understand. Definitely to understand the excess of her emotional reaction beyond her norm. He really wasn’t sure how to answer, rolling over the basic facts he knew off the top of his head, which wasn’t close to as much as he wished he did. Early on, risk of miscarriage depended on the woman, it could be higher or lower. If the impact did cause a miscarriage, there wasn’t much they could do to let her know one way or another, it was too early to check with a scan. On the other hand, he really did feel it was best that she get her arm checked and some appropriate medication for inflammation.

“They’d be able to give you medication for the inflammation and check your arm,” he said, mirroring his thoughts. “But there wouldn’t be much else they can do.”

“Then I’m not going,” she answered stubbornly, without hesitation. “I’ll just ice it. It’ll be fine.”

“Stacey,” he implored, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. “You’re going to have to tell him.”

“If I’m losing it, I’m not saying anything,” she answered in a harsh whisper. “Not a damn word. He’d kill Eli, and he just barely stopped me from doing it just now. Let me deal with it.”

“What are you two on about now?” Raph asked, walking up behind Donnie with purposeful strides. Looking up at Stacey with concern, he shot daggers briefly at Donnie before looking back to her.

“I’m trying to talk her into going to the hospital,” Donnie answered with a heavy sigh, ruffling his hair in frustration. He hated secrets in any scenario, but keeping something that big from Raph was like carrying a bomb. If he got any inclination that he had known and not told him, he’d kill him, or at the very least, make him wish that he were dead. “Unsuccessfully.”

With a frown, Raph stepped up onto the back of the ambulance, crouching and hunching to fit in the small space. Resting a hand on her thigh, he tried to catch her eyes with his, and frowned harder when she avoided him. “Angel, if Donnie thinks you should go, maybe it’d be good,” he said, as gently as he could, with a small tinge in his voice making it evident that he was aware he sounded hypocritical.

Rubbing her face against the blanket edge again, she peeked in his general direction, but still not meeting his eyes. She let the fabric go to play with a strand of his hair, focusing on it rather than his face. “I really don’t think I need to. My shoulder is as good as it can be, we can just go home and ice it, okay? If it isn’t healing right, then I’ll go to the doctor.”

Donnie shifted away uncomfortably, the moment between the two of them becoming personal enough that he felt more like a third wheel than usual. Wishing he had his holo to look at, checking her stats for himself, and able to look up information he didn’t have, he settled on kicking some gravel around. He’d gotten himself into the middle of a mess, that was for sure, and with two of the most stubborn people in the family, to boot. Not that Stacey was, technically or legally, but for all intents and purposes she was. Either way, being stuck between her and his brother was a nightmare.

“You sure you don’t need to just go get checked out? For everything? I mean, that was…”

“I’m sure. It’s just fucking Eli, Raph. Not my first rodeo. I just want to go home.” He heard Raph sigh heavily, knowing his brother was likely struggling with making her happy and doing what he felt was right. “Please?”

“Alright… alright. But if Donnie says you gotta go in to get checked, you gotta go, okay?” Raph relented after a long pause. “Right, Donnie?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Donnie responded, rubbing the back of his neck and glad his face was turned away.

“Okay. I promise.” Stacey’s voice was small and vulnerable, and it caused him true pain that she wouldn’t just tell Raph why. But it wasn’t his problem, not his choice. That was hers and hers alone to make.

[raifestrykar-blog]

Flight to Freedom

A Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fanfic, a Leonardo/OC romance, that takes place after the events in Out of the Shadows.  

My first attempt at fanfiction, figured I would post it as I finish a section, almost like mini chapters.  I will probably edit and clean it up as I go.

Chapter Thirteen

           There was this…thing…hanging over her, a thing Feronia could not figure out.  Intangible and elusive, and yet it was something that strung coils of unease deep in her belly.  And the most frustrating element of it?  Feronia did not know exactly where it stemmed from.

           Undoubtedly a large part was due to the overhanging shadow of the elusivity of the General and Dr. Grayston’s presence.  It seemed that no matter how diligent the brothers remained with their unending patrols of New York City, they could not unearth the duo’s location.

           And ever since her relationship with the katana-wielding leader had so recently bloomed into something more, Leonardo had become even more determined to hunt out and stop the ever present threat to her existence.  His focus, already as lethally honed as the edge of his sword, became even more deadly.

           Feronia shuddered as she thought being on the business end of that steely, blue-eyed gaze.  But that shudder swiftly morphed, turning sensual and deep and toe curling with heat as she thought of being on the receiving end of that unwavering blue focus for entirely different reasons – a look that demanded her acquiescence, and if she did, promised intense pleasure.

           She would have never fathomed such hot, passionate sensations existed at all.

           And yet Leo would stalk toward her, his hulking, shelled bulk strung taught with the tension of leadership and the responsibility of thousands of innocent’s safety laid upon his shoulders, and her whole body would quiver.

           Not in fear.  Never in fear.

           But in anticipation of surrendering to him.

           She was unsure if their relationship was in the normal category or not, but then again Leonardo was a badass ninja warrior mutated from the genes of a turtle, and she had giant, bird-of-prey wings sprouting from her back.  None of their lives would ever be normal.

           Over the last few weeks of her existence at the farmhouse, her relationship with the deadly warrior continued to morph and grow. True to his word, they both continued to discover what either of them liked or disliked.  

           For instance, the first and only time he spanked her, a stinging swat from one large, green, three-fingered hand had shut her down cold.  It had been done in fun and excitement, a teasing move as she had been running through the trees, laughter bubbling from her chest, a deadly, shelled ninja in hot pursuit.  The case was exilerating as she tucked her wings close to her back and wove quickly around tree after tree.

           She had known he could catch her easily at any time, and it wasn’t long before a frantic glance over her shoulder only to see no shelled bulk tailing after had her slamming full force into a plastron-protected muscled chest.  Laughing, he had spun her up against the bark of a tree and swatted her backside.  Hard.

           The blooming pain had driven every ounce of exhilaration and building passion from her as surely as if she had been dunked into a tub of ice.  Leo had gone stock still behind her as she froze in place, her mind beginning to panic. But, as he always seemed to do, he read her like a book penned just for him.  

           Feronia had felt herself gently turned, and when she could look everywhere but at him, a solid grip on her chin lifted her gaze to his and held it unrelentingly.

           And like he did all those months ago during that fateful night at NexGen Labs, those intense cobalt blue pools grounded her.

           “Alright, Sweetheart.  This is a good thing to know.”  

           And in playful excitement or in dominating passion, he had never swatted her backside again.  And he was always careful to never intentionally deliver pain.

           Yet even now, as she was being lead toward the farmhouse from after a long walk, two large palms covering her eyes and effectively blinding her, something insidious lurked beneath the sea of happiness swelling inside her.  And Feronia could not figure out what it was.  She didn’t think it stemmed from the man leading her across the yard…

           “Why can’t I go to the house on my own?”  Feronia giggled, choosing to ignore that gnawing portent of doom and focus on that source of happiness behind her.

           Firm lips dropped a kiss to the crown of her head. “Because I said so.”

           Feronia grumbled half-heartedly, circling a hand around the warmth of each thick wrist.  Her mind buzzed with curiosity.  What was her surprise?  All four brothers, April and Casey, and even Splinter was at the farmhouse today.  Her quiet little refuge practically buzzed with energy.

           With her wings wrapped around her body like a feathered cloak, she manaed to remain quiet for all of two seconds as she was directed across the farmyard.  As her booted feet cringed over the gravel-strewn driveway, Feronia couldn’t help the plaintive whine that escaped her throat.  “Leo!  I’m dying of curiosity here!”

           The chuckle that rumbled against her back sent a fission of awareness through her.  “My Fer, you are so bad with surprises.  But that was a hot little sound you made…maybe I will try to make you do that sound again later.”

           The heady promise in his words sent her heart racing. But then the heat of a warm, strong palm slid under a wing and along her waist as a muscled band of steel wound around her middle.  Like she weighed nothing, Leo plucked her back up against him, and then her booted feet were deposited on solid ground once again, the dull sound of boots on wood planks telling her he had lifted her up the few stairs of the front porch.

           Reaching out blindly, she felt for the knob to the door only to feel Leo reach around her and nudge it open.

           “She’s here, brah’s!”

           Thump.

           “What the hell, Raph?  You are always punching me!”

           “Shut it, Mikey.  You will ruin the surprise.”

           “I’m fairly certain there is a 99.924% chance Fer already knows a surprise is immenant.

           “So?  He doesn’t always have to slug me.”

           “I’m findin’ it therapeutic.”

           She kept her bark of laughter in as Leo propelled her forward until the coolness of the kitchen spread out before her.

           Then the warmth of his hands fell away from her face, and she blearily blinked her eyes open.  As soon as one lid cracked, boisterous shouts from those she loved so dearly assailed her, along with a faceful of tiny bits of colored paper doused over her head.

           “Surprise!” several voiced shouted in unison.

           Feronia blinked at the scene before her, her mind numbly kicking into gear.

           The kitchen table was piled with several boxes all wrapped in bright paper.  A large, extremely large, cake with bright red letters scrawled across the surface of the white frosting sat in the middle of the wrapped boxes, and the powerful forms of the three mutant turtles, an elderly human-sized rat, and April and Casey lingered around the kitchen table, huge grins plastered over their faces.

           Warm lips teased the shell of her ear.  “Happy birthday, Feronia,” Leo rumbled.

           She seemed stunned even as Mieky bounded forward to scoop her up in a bear hug, wings and all, twirling her around.

           “Yeah!  Happy birthday, Fer-bear!”

           She had not even realized the passage of days!

           Donnie nodded eagerly, pushing his glasses further on the wide bridge of his nose.  Yes, I have been going through any and all files recovered from the night NexGen Labs was shut down.  This is the date recorded as being the first you drew breath.  Hence, your birthday.”

           Tears made her vision swim as she turned to look at her tall, dangerous ninja.  “I’ve never had a birthday party!”

           One large, green forefinger swept a stray black curl of hair off her brow.  “I want to give you everything, you know.”

           The look burning in his deep, blue eyes was something entirely different, yet no less intense.  She opened her mouth to reply just as she was yanked eagerly over to the table and tugged in front of Raphael’s bulked out form.  “Enough teary shit…let’s party!”

           The rest of the day was a whirlwind of fun and games, and Feronia couldn’t possibly imagine being any happier.  Evening was drawing near as they finally let her open the brightly wrapped boxes.  Opening each present surrounded by this strangely put together family was paradise.

           Until she opened the second to last gift, given from the bo-staff wielding warrior.

           Reaching into the box she had just opened, her breath caught in her throat.  Feronia couldn’t imagine anything better than the gift from Raphael and Michelangelo; all Superman DVDs, from the classic television series to the most recently made movies.  They had given her months of viewing at her disposal.

           But at the bottom of the box from the tech-loving warrior was something that made her breath catch.  Even before her hand grasped around the handle, this one gift was making her feel powerful and capable.

           Donnie fidgeted in his seat.  “I hope you like it.  I figured you would have an aerial advantage that even we,” and he gestured to himself and his brothers, “can achieve…”

           His words seemed to be drowned out as Feronia brought out the gift.  An intricately made, small and compact crossbow, it looked small enough to be no bigger than a handgun.  Complicated gears filled the body, and Donnie surged forward.  “It even has cartridges of bolts you can snap in that will automatically load every time you pull the string back and lock it—”

           One large, green hand dropped into view as Leonardo reached over and plucked the mini crossbow right out of her grasp.  “What the hell were you thinking, Donnie?” This is the big secret project you have been working on?”

           “Well, as a matter of fact, Leo, yes.  With her flying now, she can easily—”

           “No.”

           Feronia surged to her feet, rounding on the blue-eyed leader.  “What do you mean, no?  It’s my gift, and I should be able to defend myself.  You all have weapons!”  Even as she pointed out that fact, a small part of her dimly realized she sounded juvenile and petty.  But holding that small crossbow even a few moments had her feeling much less like a victim.  

           Leo had been glaring at his younger brother, but at her rant, those intense eyes slammed into hers.  “I said no.  You do not need weapons.”

           Something cold and hard began to spread within her chest. “You don’t get to dictate what I get to do with my life, Leo.  Give me my gift back.”

           The towering hulk of turtle actually leaned down, getting right in her face.  “I said no.” he repeated.  “We will stop the general—”

           Black, indigo tinted wings snapped up into a poised hold as Feronia’s back straightened.  “Whatever we have, Leonardo, does not give you the right to control every aspect of my existence.  I will never allow that.”

           Silence reigned down around them as the two faced off, glaring at one another.  And there in the glittering depths of his eyes, she saw it.  She saw the unwavering resolve.  Leo would not bend on this.  

           Anger, swift and sure, overshadowed everything she was feeling.  Blinking back the tears of frustration that threatened to fall, she gave a small nod. Turning, she spared everyone at her party a glance.  “I apologize, but I feel the need for some air.”

           And before anyone could utter another peep, Feronia stalked from the farmhouse and out into the dawning night.

           That was three days ago.

***

           Leo had worked his body to exhaustion in the training room, pushing his brothers gruelingly in a series of new moves they were all working on.  All four of them sported green hides that glistened with sweat, and yet he pushed himself on.  When his brothers became fed up with the grueling training, he had turned to weights, punching a bag as if it was the General himself.

           Yet his mind continued to circle the day of Feronia’s birthday party.  Everything had been going so perfectly, and yet at the end of the day, he had stalked from that house and roared his bike to life, speeding down the highways back to the lab.  Leo knew he had to talk to Feronia.  But he was still working on a way to do so without bringing his own volatile frustrations into the mix.  

           With a growl, the finally stalked away from the training room.   It wasn’t until he was sinking his sore body onto the edge of his bed, stooping forward to let his head fall into his hands, that Leonardo allowed himself to ponder his dilemma.  Glancing up, his gaze alighted on the very object that had caused the fracture, this maddening chasm, between he and his girl.  

           She didn’t need a weapon!  He could keep her safe.  He and his brothers worked tirelessly to make certain nothing threatened Feronia’s existence…

           Reaching down into a deep pocket of his black cargo pants, his hands fisted around a small, velvet covered object.

           A gentle nock on his door had him lifting his head as the door to his private room opened.  Splinter’s head peered around.  Spotting him, the old ran moved further into the room, closing it softly behind him.  

           For a long moment, his Sensai merely leaned back against the closed door, crossing his arms over his chest and simply peering at him with those fathomless black eyes of his.

           Leo felt a muscle tick in his jaw, waiting for his father to speak.

           Yet time continued to tick on.  Until Leo surged to his feet, pacing the length of his room. It wasn’t a large space, and he could stalk across the distance from one wall to the other in three long strides, his hand never leaving his pocket.

           “She doesn’t need a weapon, Dad.”

           Silence.

           “I can ensure her safety.  I know it.”

           Silence.

           Leo stalked back toward the opposite wall, finally brandishing forth the object he clutched desparately.  Turning toward his father, Leo held out his hand, opening his fingers. Nestled in his palm was a velvet covered box.  The old rat reached out, carefully taking it.

           His throat worked as he tried to swallow, watching Splinter open the small jewelry box.  A simple band of silver sporting a sapphire of deepest blue winked up at the old rat. “I was going to ask her to be mine, Dad. But I never got the chance to bring it up.  To give it to her.  And now? Now I don’t know if she would accept it. I may have just ruined everything.”

           With a groan, Leo sank back down to his mattress, sitting at the edge.  For once, he was finding himself in territory he did not know how to navigate.  He was on unsure ground with Feronia.

The slight weight of his father dipped the mattress as the old rat settled down beside him, still holding the open ring box.  

           “I remember trying my best to keep four young turtles safe from the cruelties of the outside world.”  

           Turning, Leo’s gaze met the dark pools of his father’s.

           “I seem to remember none of you being truly happy. Not until you went out, defying me and my wishes, to discover your true potentials.”

           The emotion rocketing through Leonardo was so intense, it threatened to choke him.  “She is everything, dad.  Losing her would hollow me.”

           Gently, Splinter closed the ring case and handed it back to him, rising to his feet.  One, long fingered hand gnarled by the ever-turning passage of time settled atop the smooth dome of his head.  “Have you told her what you hold in your heart?”

           Silently, Leonardo shook his head.

           “Even the greatest leaders, the most hardened of warriors, face their most terrifying adversary when it comes to matters of the heart.  I fashioned you into the leader you are now because of what I could see burgeoning in your soul; a just, fair mind and an honorable soul.  You know the answer, my son.  And it takes immeasurable bravery to trust in that.”

           Just as silently as he had slipped in, his father left him.  

           Leo did know his ultimate decision.  His gaze landed on the small crossbow he couldn’t bring himself to destroy.  Rising to his feet, he snatched up the small weapon and flung his door open, stalking toward Donnie’s lab.

           The following day, Leonardo rumbled his bike to a halt before the farmhouse.  His heart was hammering against his ribs, anxiety not an emotion he was usually afflicted with.  Would she forgive him?  Would Feronia…

           Pushing such thoughts from his mind, Leo stalked through the house, only to find the large, two story home empty and quiet. Unease curled through him as he searched the barn with no sight of his girl.  She wouldn’t leave him without a word, would she?  

           It was an early autumn mid-day, and the cheery sunlight and twittering birds did little to calm his rising paranoia as he began to search the farmyard for the sweep of black wings.

           Leondardo eventually found Feronia near the hayfield that stretched onward, the alfalfa tall enough to roll like waves of the sea as the breeze gusted across the field.  At first, it took every ounce of training he possessed to keep the alarm coiling through him at bay when he searched the farmhouse and grounds for nearly half an hour for the winged human with no results.

           It wasn’t until he decided to walk down to the pon that a flutter of smoky black caught his eye.

           There in the grass, under the shade of a willow tree, he found Feronia.  Dressed in a flowing, airy yellow sundress that ruffled in the breeze, she was a vision that made his heart nearly stop in his chest.  Flat on her stomach, one cheek pillowed on an arm tucked under her head, and the impressive expanse of her unique, perfectly formed wings spread out on either side of her as if she had languorously stretched out the tired, sore wing muscles and dosed off mid stretch, Leo found her fast asleep.

           Moving in silently, he drew close and lowered himself until he sat beside her, taking the rare chance to take her in without the prying eyes of others around.

           Inky black curls tumbled out and around her like a silky cloud, the brisk breeze ruffling a few glossy tresses.  It was amazing how her health had improved so greatly since her stay at the farmhouse.  He could see it in the new shine to her wild curls of silky hair, the sun-kissed glow of her smooth skin.

           The features of her face looked so peaceful in the dream world found only in sleep’s embrace.  She looked so relaxed, her brow smooth and free of the stress that often creased it.  Those full, kissable lips rested a hairsbreadth apart, her breath puffing across the hand tucked under her chin to stir several blades of grass with each exhale.

           Her beauty drew him like a moth to flame.  And the six feet wings of black and indigo feathers that swept out from her back only made her more remarkable to him.

           Even if Leonardo stopped the General and Dr. Grayston, those wings of hers were sure to bring her more trouble.  

           Tearing his eyes away from the sleeping woman, he stared down at his own palm.  It still was difficult for him to believe someone could see past the differences his own form had to offer.

           A murmur snapped his attention back to her, and as he watched, a crease furrowed her brow as the wing closest to him jerked against the grass before it was drawn in to tuck against her back.

           “Noooo…”

           The word wrenched from her lips and Leondardo know Feronia had slipped into one of her nightmares.

           Reaching out with one green-skinned hand, he gently slid his hand against the back of her neck until he had her in a solid grip. “Fer, relax.”  He let a command slip into the words.

           Her whole body went lax as if every ounce of tension from the nightmare that gripped her bled out, and her tensed wing relaxed outward again.

           That bolt of awareness shot through him.  Even in her slumber, she subconsciously submitted to his authority as if she trusted he would keep her safe.

           Holy hell, he was in deep.  Splinter had trained him from day one to be the leader he and his brothers needed.  Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined having his order obeyed so sweetly, so innocently, would awaken a side of him he never knew existed.

           Leo remained there, sitting in the grass beside her, one hand still firmly on the back of her neck.  Gently, he let his thumb draw circles along the column of her throat until she began to stir from slumber.

***

           Slowly coming awake, Feronia nearly stretched like a cat at the warm, caressing touch at the back of her neck.  Blinking awake blearily, strong thighs encased in black cargo pants greeted her confused gaze, and as she moved to rise to her knees, a warm smile began to lift the corners of her lips.  

           Until the memories of her birthday, now a week ago, assailed her as her gaze met pools of intense blue.  All the warm fuzzy feelings that had began bubbling through her fizzled as her angry, sad frustration overrode everything.  

           She moved to shove his hand from her neck, but Leo’s grip remained solid.  He was not going to let her go.  “Unhand me.”

           The warrior shook his head.  “We are going to talk.”

           Feronia stilled, and at that small halt in movement, Leo had his free arm snagged around her waist and began settling her down on his lap, her legs spread to straddle his thighs.  It was an intimate position, the heat of their groins pressed together. She did her damnest to ignore the stiff bulge beginning to strain the confines of his cargo pants.

           “I’m not sure I want to talk to you like this. Not if you are going to just tell me how to live my life.  Dr. Grayston and the General won’t be a problem forever, you know.”  Feronia cursed the hammering of her heart against her ribs, willing her voice to remain steady and unwavering while she tried to face this powerful man with just as much conviction as he was looking at her now.

           A strong hand ran down the wide blade of one wing. “Even after them, these wings will always make you a target, Fer.”

           She actually growled at him, her hands tightening in small little fists against the broad planes of his chest.  “I know, but I can’t—”

           Winding one arm solidly around her waist to keep her held against him, he reached behind him with the other, picking an object up out of the grass she hadn’t even  noticed was there.   Feronia gasped, her eyes going wide as she watched him bring the small crossbow between them.  Tentatively, she reached out, one hand wrapping around the handle of the weapon.

           When she tugged though, he did not relent Donatelo’s gift to her.  Her eyes flicked up, captured and held resolutely in his.

           “I promised you we would work on figuring out what this is we have growing between us.  What we have is unique, Fer, and there are no guidebooks or map showing me the way. And that takes compromise, takes give and take, from both of us.”

           Both of their hands still gripping the dainty crossbow, Feronia nodded as Leonardo’s smooth baritone washed over her.  

           “I can’t expect to control every aspect of your life. Nor do I want to.  Donnie’s gift was just a fact I was not ready to accept…the fact that no matter how hard I strive to keep you safe, something will always be gunning for you, Feronia.  Just like my brothers and I have to deal with.  So you can have the weapon.”

           A huge smile burst across her face.

           “You can have the weapon,” Leonardo continued succinctly, “if you train with Donnie and me on how to fight with it correctly.  You shouldn’t be shooting bolts to kill, but to incapacitate.  Donnie is working now on several ideas…I believe he said something about bolts that would shock, some that would smoke...uh…honestly it was a bunch of techno mumbo jumbo I didn’t all grasp at the time.  Can you do that?  Will you train with me, Fer?”

           Days of building frustration and anger, of lingering sadness, fell completely to the wayside.  Abandoning her grip on the weapon, Feronia flung her arms around him, sliding her hands between the thick, strong column of his neck and the rise of his hard shell.

           Leo shifted, the weapon clinking as he set it aside once more in the grass.  Then his two arms were around her under her wings, holding her tight to him with a desperation she had never felt before.  The ninja buried his face in the cascade of curls at her shoulder, breathing deep.  You mean the world to me, Sweetheart.   I will always work with you, Fer, if you work with me.  This I vow.  But until my brothers and I can hunt down the General and Dr. Grayston, I need you to remain hidden.  Promise?”

           Feronia nodded, leaning back to catch his look with her own.  “I promise.”

           He shifted under her, and the bulge in his cargo pants that had yet to abate rubbed up against her center, and she groaned aloud, causing the dangerous turtle to still for a beat.  His low chuckle sent a tingle down her spine.  “We will get to that in a bit.  But I have a gift for you.  I never got to give it to you at your party.”

           Reaching into his pants, she curiously eyed the object he withdrew.  It was a sheethed blade, easily as long as her forearm.  The leather sheath looked like it had been tooled with great forethought…blue tinted leather made intricate stitching along the edges of the sheath, and a black metal handle sported from the open end of the sheath.

           “Up on your knees a bit, Fer.”

           Swallowing hard, she rose up until she straddled over him. A breath rushed from her lungs as one, battle calloused hand slipped under the edge of her yellow sundress, drawing the skirt up over the silky expanse of her smooth thigh.  Glancing down, she watched him as he tied the sheathed dagger snuggly to her upper thigh, the pads of his fingers ghosting along her skin where the weapon’s sheath sat against her flesh.   He never let her skirt fall back down, either.

           “I want you to train with this, too.  It will make me feel better knowing you have something a little less mechanical to protect yourself with.”

           But Leo’s hand was beginning to trail up the back of her thigh, now beginning to slide over her right cheek as that one large hand cupped her ass.

           One eye ridge rose.

           Feronia gulped, words tumbling from her lips on instinct alone.  “Yes, Sir.”

           A growl rumbled from him even as his other hand snaked up under her wing to delve in the long curls of her hair.  “God, what you do to me, Sweetheart.”

           As he drew her mouth to his to take her lips in a demanding possession, hope flickered anew within the depths of her heart.

***

Author’s Note - largely a rough draft, and had to be split into two chapters otherwise with the action coming next, this would have been a 30 page chapter.  Thank you for being patient with me, and hopefully I will be able to have the last two chapters cranked out soon.

[ramskulls-archive]

wumpusinthetardis replied to your post “throw requests at me go go”

2012 Raph in 1990 trenchcoat attire?

[zandiiangelspit]

A birthday gift for @wumpusinthetardis (uploading this a little late now oops) ♡

[zandiiangelspit]

A doodle I forgot to upload for @wumpusinthetardis - Raph and Stace in Rottmnt style, always fun to experiment with~ 

[zandiiangelspit]

Sorry for your internet connection D: Hope things are getting better. In the meantime, if you have the mood, can we see ROT TMNT Raph with a plushie, pretty please? That would be adorable!

(Sorry for the late response to this…..aasdfg ;w; internet is stable again, all is good~)

And of course! Have blushy teddy bae with his favourite plush bear ♡♡♡

[zandiiangelspit]

Aesthetic board for Raph and Stacey, you can find their story - ‘Sparking the Pavement’ - on Ao3 ♡