【 a b o u t m e 】 — name: grace ｜age: 24 ｜pronouns: she/her sporadic fanfic writer ｜ tmnt enthusiast ｜ semi-editor ｜ hopeless romantic ｜ trying to do her best
Requests? ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ Open ☑️
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♪ rules *･゜ﾟ↓
1.) This blog is for all tmnt characters/versions, so if you don’t see someone on my masterlist, it means I have yet to write/receive a request for them!
2.) If I have not done your request it could either be because I got super busy with real life, or I did not have enough inspiration/motivation. If you absolutely want me to write something specific pm me and we can talk it through
3.) I do not write nsfw content for underage characters.
4.) writing gender neutral has just become easiest for me but if you specify fem/male reader i can try!
【 l i n k s 】
☆ fic recommendations *･゜ﾟ
【 m a s t e r l i s t s 】 ↓
rottmnt — [full] includes headcanons/oneshots/series/drabbles for all the boys + some april & casey (last updated 2/27/24)
more rottmnt — each post is only allowed 100 links, the first masterlist is full so here is a second one! (last updated 11/14/24)
tmnt 2k12 — includes headcanons/oneshots for the boys (last updated 2/22/24)
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【 f a n f a v o r i t e s 】
turtle taps >\\\\\<
(in which the turtle-y instincts kick in) fandom → rottmnt
love potion series <3
(in which the boys & their readers deal with the effects of a love potion) fandom → rottmnt
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【 r e c e n t l y w r i t t e n 】
from the start
(in which leo tells you all about his newest crush but you’re not really listening) fandom → rottmnt
✨ I'm giving away one one-shot fiction of your choice to one lucky follower! ✨
How to Enter:
✅ Follow me
✅ Like this post
Bonus Entry:
✨ Reblog this post for an extra entry!
Giveaway runs from now through June 16, 2026. I will then select a winner via a random drawing and contact them through Tumblr DMs. More giveaway rules down below! If you have any questions, always feel free and thank you all again!!!
Giveaway Rules
You must follow me to enter.
The requested work must be for a fandom I'm familiar with so that I can write it accurately.
If you win, you must have your DMs open so we can discuss the details of your request.
I will need to know your age if the requested content could involve mature themes. I will not write explicit content for minors.
I will not accept requests involving incest or pedophilia.
There is no minimum or maximum word count for the one-shot. The final length will be determined solely by what is necessary to fulfill the request.
This work will be completed alongside my regular writing workload and therefore does not have a guaranteed completion date. While I will make every effort to finish it within a reasonable timeframe, delays may occur depending on my schedule and other commitments.
These guidelines are not exhaustive. There may be topics, themes, or types of content that I am not comfortable with writing that are not specifically identified here. If a request falls outside these guidelines, we can discuss the best way to proceed.
You do not need to come into this giveaway with a fully developed one-shot idea. Having a general concept, trope, prompt, or starting point can be helpful, but it's not required. I'd love for this to be a collaborative process.
request: hi hil! I read your work and it was amazing! I was hoping you would write the rise boys with a vigilante s/o? (Gn) but the boys don't know that yet and one day s/o is fighting the foot or someone, you decide, then their turtle bf shows up and helps them. S/o forgot they were in costume for a minute before running to their turtle in shining shell and kissing them, so it turns into a whole thing and s/o unmasks themself, how do the boys react??
🝮 “ neon cyan! ”
rise!leo x vigilante!g/n
author’s note: pt.3 of the vigilante s/o thing. teehee <3 I dunno if I’ll do these again since they’re exhausting. I like coming up with all different stories so it’s not, like… redundant, but gosh does that take more time and energy! take pity upon your sweet little author <33 anyways, how do you pronounce cyan? See-yon or Sigh-awn?
word count: 3.4k
Anyone would think it is a tough job as the dearly beloved to one of New York’s strongest heroes, but that would only be the case for someone who doubts themselves.
For you in particular, it stood only as a bar to surpass—a challenge to take down!
There was only one person who loved the spotlight more than Leonardo Hamato, and that was you—Y/N!
Or rather.. New York’s newest undefeatable vigilante…
“ Neon Cyan! ”
“ Lame—OW! ”
This particularly lazy afternoon with Leo was spent flipping through the newest release of “New Heroes York!”where the front page starred a flashy ‘ WHO’S BEHIND THAT MASK? ’ spotlight for the new vigilante, Neon Cyan. You were excitedly telling Leo about the newest hero on the scene, grilling him over how cool he must have thought they were—only to find out he thinks they’re a huge dork!
The nerve! That DORK was you, and you thought you were cool as can be!
“ You did NOT just say that their name is lame! ”
Leo laughs, pulling you against his chest—where you were originally snuggled before deciding to assault him for simply speaking his mind.
“ I did, and I stand by it. I mean, ‘Neon Cyan’? That doesn’t even slide off the tongue easy! ”
“ Yeah, and ‘Neon Leon’ is somehow better? ”
“ Of course it is. I came up with it. ”
He grins, beaming with pride. He was expecting you to respond with a similarly lighthearted tone, only to be met with your flustered face scowling at him.
“ What? Why do you care about this lame kid anyways? ”
He took the magazine from you, flipping it every which way except right side up. If anything, he was starting to feel flustered himself.
“ They’re not lame! ”
You grumble, shooting up and stomping to the door.
“ I think they’re super cool—and, and, and I bet—I bet they’re cooler than you! ”
You stuck your tongue out at him, watching your boyfriend gasp dramatically as he scrambled and scooted to the edge of his bed.
“ YEAH? WELL, IF YOU LIKE THAT GUY SO MUCH WHY DON’T YOU GO DATE THEM INSTEAD? ”
“ YEAH, WELL MAYBE I WILL! ”
You storm out of his room, shoving past a poor Raph who happened to be walking by at the wrong time.
——-
Later that day, you spent your time patrolling nighttime New York, searching for some lowly criminal to vent on.
“ How dare he call me some lame dorky cringe hero wannabe! He’s so full of himself, I’ll show him! ”
Kicking rubble whilst atop an apartment building, you seethe still thinking about the earlier argument. The breeze was welcoming and chilly, soothing.
You crack your knuckles and tried to shake the rage out of your system. Anger was beginning to fizzle out and make room for the raw mystic energy that naturally ran through your veins, curtsy of your father’s lineage.
The magic part was cool, but you hadn’t really paid attention to his explanation. Something like a Romeo & Juliet situation between your ancestors, blah blah blah, lovers, chaos, tragedy, and some “ blessing upon the family that presents itself when kin reach a certain age ” or whatever.
It sounded like some sort of gobbledygook that was probably a lot more dramatic than what actually happened.
But, none of that mattered more than the fact that you had wicked cool powers just like a wizard! Your father referred to you as an “ early bloomer ”, citing the recent almost-apocalypse as the catalyst.
The air around you started to stiffen and grow tangible, responding to your touch. Bracing yourself, you broke out into a sprint upon the rooftop as the wind breathed to life around you. Since awakening your abilities, the world became your playpen and gravity, well… your bitch.
Your foot pressed against the ledge with force like a spring pulling back, launching you through the lunar sky. Cutting through the air, your eyes scanned each skyline and alleyway diligently, searching for any trace of an anomaly.
As Neon Cyan, you of course donned a cape—signature of a hero! Your attire was very obviously inspired by hero super suits, albeit just a leotard you bought online resembling 90s windbreaker designs that tucked into a pair of low waisted cargos. The mask you donned was quite reminiscent of the turtle heroes who inspired you, albeit more of a spandex material than a cotton bandana like theirs.
You caught yourself on the next rooftop, bending into a crouching roll that transitioned into another full body sprint and leap off the rooftop’s edge.
The cargos would’ve been a bit higher if they were your size, but hey, who could ignore such a holy grail find at the thrift store? They were so Y2K and made you utterly adorable. Totally photoshoot ready!
With each jump, the wind would carry you in a fashion similar to a butler reaching out his hand to the princess, guiding her up or down a flight of steps.
“ Maybe Neon Cyan was pretty lame.. ”
Your clothes billow through the wind as your feet catch you in the next ledge. For footwear, you settled for regular tennis shoes for the time being. Once you became a much more famous hero, then your outfit could get an upgrade! But for now, you were the humble vigilante, Neon Cyan, with which no villain stood even an inkling of a chance!
You slow down, choosing a slower pace now that you were beginning to cool down. As you came to the roof’s edge, you settled for sitting down rather than jumping. From here, you could see the furthest corners of each neighborhood in the city..
“ … I guess this argument’s my fault.. ”
You traced shapes against the concrete, lazily gazing at the alley below.
“ It’s not like Leo knows he was talking about me.. But why was he so upset over Neon Cyan anyways? ”
Something out of the ordinary below caught your eye, it’s movements almost robotic in a way.
“ What the…? ”
You slid off the ledge slowly, letting the wind catch you, stiffening into platform-like states for you to slowly climb down to get a bitter look. To anyone else, it would appear as though you were somehow miming surfaces that you could actually hold onto—a completely baffling concept.
As you neared the sight, it turned out to be… a large Mouser? Those things were usually much smaller—and in great numbers! Thanks to that annoying multiplying ability of theirs..
But this one was clambering down the alleyway with determination, almost as though it had a task to carry out.
“ Finally, something to do. ”
You grin. The slow and steady “ stalk to find out ” method wasn’t exactly your style. You more so preferred to take out the threat sooner than later! It was much cooler that way anyways.
With that said, you swung around a rod-like conjuring of air, building momentum fast enough to fling yourself bullet-speed towards the contraption. With your heel poised like a knife, you let go and allowed gravity to pull you down towards the Mouser.
As your heel collided with the back of its head, you had expected it to have enough force to drill straight through the metal, but it barely made a dent! Instead, you were left with a jolt of pain surging through your body from the point of contact.
“ GRK—! ”
Landing behind it, you stumble sideways into the neighboring building’s wall, hand reaching down to caress your leg through the pulsating pain. Your gaze was fixed on the bot.
It seemed to immediately respond to your kick, head jerking upwards, then left, then snapping in your direction. There was an unsettling creaking, clicking sound that followed each movement it made as each metal ligament jolted sharply to turn in your direction.
You may have bitten off more than you could chew tonight.
The Mouser took one thundering step toward you, its frosted glass visor leaning closer ever so unsettlingly slow. Staring into the opaque glass, a fizzling sound began around the edges where glass met metal. The glass suddenly disconnected and began raising upwards to reveal a.. little boy?
“ What the hell…? ”
You tilt your head in confusion and the child say within the robot. He adjusts his glasses, seemingly sizing you up.
“ Oh, I know you. That new hero, what was it again, Blue Blur? ”
“ Man, come on, that’s not even close. ”
He squinted at you, displeased, then rolled his eyes.
“ Whatever, just stay out of my way. I don’t have time to deal with fodder hero wannabes. ”
You twitched in response, straightening up. If brute force hadn’t worked, then mystical will. You swirled your hands in cupped motions, as though building a ball of energy between your palms.
The air around the robot responded, slowly spinning and causing the robot to teeter this way and the other. The kid inside started crying out frustrated, cursing you with very PG-13 sentences. Quite startling to hear from a child, but he started it, so!
“ Oh, shove off, kid! You’re obviously up to no-good. ”
You stuck out your tongue, twisting your hands as they puppeteer the wind into knocking over the Anima-Mouser. As it clunked hard into the ground, its cabin reopened and casted out the child.
He grumbles, brushing dirt and shmook from his garments. The boy turned towards you and jabbed a finger in your direction.
“ UGH! You will regret messing with ME, BAXTER STOCKBOY! ”
He assumes a proud stance, thumb pressing hard into his chest as his face contorted with villainous pride. Conniving, comically-evil laughter built in his chest as he cried out, ‘ now, my minions! ’
“ What the f—“
You straightened up, reaching behind to tighten the tails of your bandana as a grounding motion. A few more mousers—not so big as the Anima-Mouser, and more so the small size you were familiar with— came around the corner, clanking towards you with speed unmatched to such heavy hulking frames.
“ What’s your plan, huh?! You’re not even strong enough to fight me yourself, there’s no way you have any schemes worthwhile! ”
You moved with elegance that would make a ballet dancer envious, the wind lightening around your body to allow for such fleet-footed movement. The closest mouser lunged towards you, and you dodged it. Your ducking momentum was quickly converted through your foot pivoting, the energy in your body surging upwards into a strike against the jaw of a mouser descending toward you.
Another mouser attempted to sneak up behind you, choosing to strike when you were most vulnerable. Unfortunately for it, you dropped into a sharp split and swung your legs in a windmill-like fashion akin to classic breakdancing moves. The motion courses through your hips while your palms supported your weight lifting upwards.
As the mouser lunged, you grin as this energy courses through your legs and into your heel, bringing it down hard as though suddenly lead-filled, smashing the robotic creature against the pavement.
“ No way you think this’ll stop me, kid! ”
You rolled the energy through your body, pushing off the ground with a hop to land firmly upon your feet.
Baxter Stockboy stiffens, calling for a couple more mousers as his Anima-Mouser regains its balance. He clambers disgracefully into the chamber, planting back into his seat and quickening his pace towards whatever he was determined to reach.
While the mousers stood between you and his cowardly escape, that was hardly enough to make you give up a good chase. You waste no time breaking into a sprint, turning towards the wall and trusting the wind to carry you as your feet followed up the side of the wall, launching your form over the pesky robotic grunts.
“ GET BACK HERE, DAMN IT! ”
You cry out, landing behind all the boy’s little army before quickly recovering to pursue him.
Weaving through the streets of New York, he tried many times to knock you off his tail with a few casted trash cans and sharp turns. It wasn’t until you nearly tripped over a signature fat fucking New Yorkian Rat getting spooked by Baxter’s impromptu nunchuck trash can attack that you finally lost sight of the bugger.
Stalking down the alleys, your gaze was eagle-eyed as it scoped out each corner.
“ Come on, Stocky. What’s your aim tonight? ”
His voice echoed back nondirectionally.
“ You won’t stop me, Neon Cannon! ”
“ It’s ‘CYAN!’ SIGH-ANN!!! ”
The argument from earlier crept back up, reawakening a previously-stoked fire. Your footfalls grew heavier, filling the alley noisily.
“ Whatever. I’m taking out this newbie threatening my spot for the next spotlighted streamer on Squint and there’s no way you’re stopping me! ”
He blew raspberries at you, and you continued spinning around the alley trying to figure out where he was coming from. Maybe above? Your fists tighten as you near the edge of the alleyway.
“ Seriously? What a child! You’re planning to pummel some poor kid over a contest? What a—GYUK—”
As you left from the alleyway, a cold robotic fist met with your cheek with a force that immediately set this fight from trivial to a must-win.
You stumble backwards into the wall, hand reaching up to caress the stinging pain.
“ You don’t know what it’s like for us creators! I’m a celebrity. It’s a very aggressive field! ”
Dazed, you try to regain yourself from the hit and ready your fists.
“ I stand by what I said. Lame. ”
You spit a mixture of saliva and blood to the ground and lunge towards Baxter and his Anima-Mouser with a whirling wind bolstering your fist into the glass of the chamber. As it shatters, your fist collides with the boy’s cheek, and the robot topples backwards.
“ Ow! What the heck is your problem, I’m just a kid! ”
“ Bullshit! ‘Just a kid’ wouldn’t have a robot army of minions! ”
You sat up, resting on the belly of the robot. While a hit like that would’ve littered glass throughout your fist, the wind shielded you. Baxter stared up at you, upset and cradling his cheek. You couldn’t help but smirk.
“ Consider that payback. ”
You rose up to your feet, standing over the boy with a pride perhaps misplaced after having pummeled a little kid.
“ Then consider.. THIS! PAYBACK! ”
He suddenly lunged for a handle in the chamber, yanking it downwards and sounding some sort of alarm.
You were quick to spin around, searching for whatever his next move was, only to find yourself suddenly falling. The mousers you leapt over previously had caught up and decided to nibble at your legs. You swiped at them, cutting billowing gusts to knock them all off, but they simply piled on each other and crawled back up like pesky roaches.
The sight of them clambering towards you made your skin crawl.
“ EUGH! Disgusting! ”
You swept at them a few more times, testing the futility of it all as they just rolled over the fallen ones in rhythmic fashion. They were dead set on crowding you, and you were already growing winded from the dragged out stalking.
For a moment you considered the idea of a sidekick. Leo and his brothers made this whole thing look easy, and you really just wanted to help lessen their load since the almost-apocalypse, but look where it’s landed you!
Maybe you really were some hero wannabe.. Your breathing grew shaky as you considered the possibility of biting off more than you could chew.
“ Hhh—w—nnnn, no—eee! L-LEOOO!! ”
Watching the mousers close in on you made an unfamiliar emotion—fear—well up in your chest, and you couldn’t help but cower and shield yourself, crying out for your beloved.
Your tears welled up behind shut eyes as you braced yourself for the pain of getting pummeled by those ratbots…
…
?
The pain never came.
You opened your eyes, trailing up an all-too-recognizable frame standing between you and Baxter’s army.
“ Do my ears deceive me, or did the rising new hero-on-the-scene just call out for The Leonardo? ”
He flashes his signature shit-eating grin at you as a horde of those mousers laid around you both in a crescent shape, cleanly sliced in half by the blue-banded hero’s twin blades.
If it were any other time, you would’ve had a thing or two to bark back. Instead, you sniffled pitifully.
Leo squinted at you with a low ‘ eugh… ’ before lunging through the next waves of Mousers and finally totaling the Anima-Mouser Baxter had already began sneaking away with.
You rub your eyes dry as he returns to your side, having cleaned up the mess.
Here we go.
“ So, ‘Neon Cyan’—“
“ It’s Cyan, like Brian. ”
Leo smirked at you, pulling out the magazine you must’ve left in his room after storming off.
“ Mhmm, yeah, well, I think I know how to pronounce ‘Cyan’. It obviously rhymes with Neon. ”
He leaned one elbow against the hilt of his blades as they stabbed firmly into the ground before you. His other hand held the magazine between his thumb and index. The amateur photograph of you on the cover stared down at you almost mockingly.
“ Yeah, well, I’m telling you that for MY name, it doesn’t! Oh, forget it.. Maybe I should just change my name to something else.. Like Blue Bullet! ”
“ With your speed? Go fish. ”
You casted him a scowl, standing up much too quickly for your body to handle. As you stumbled against the nearest wall for support, Leo came closer.
“ Y’know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were some type of fan boy. ”
“ Uh-huh. ”
You ignore him, taking a step further. Before you can react, a stray mouser clambers around the corner right in front of you and lunges with open jaws. You jerk backwards, letting out a pitiful yet adorable ‘ eep! ’.
Unfortunately for the poor boy, it is immediately slammed to bits as Leo’s fist smashes it into the wall you rested against.
Be it the fatigue washing over you or the simply breathtaking view of his muscled arm being so close to your face, something was making you much too mushy.
Your eyes trailed from the crackling mesh of metal, pulverized against the brick like a measly bug. Up Leo’s arm, to his shoulders, and then his face. His gaze was fixed in the robot as his body curled around yours to reach it. Your shoulder was just inches from touching his, and if only he knew who was behind the mask, maybe his other hand would be resting against your shoulder instead of hovering behind it.
“ … *snf* ”
Your lip quivers. Before you could even consider the situation, you were immediately placing a desperate kiss upon his lips as thank-you for swooping in like such a knight to your rescue.
“ Thanks, Leo.. ”
You stared at him, watching as he slow turned to you, surprised.
He takes a step back, hands raising up in defense as he laughs in a tone that felt 2/3rds suave and 1/3rd nervous.
“ Whoa, whoa, Neon Cyan-like-Brian. Whatever happened to permission? A please, even? ”
You cocked your head in confusion. The last time you two spoke had ended in argument, and he wanted to try and brush aside a kiss? From you? Was now really the time for jokes?
Leo, noting your confusion, clicked his tongue is discomfort.
“ I’ll have you know I have quite the looker waiting for me back home. A lovely partner. ”
His hand moves to tug at his lips as though he was peeling off your kiss then moved in a swift motion to mime tossing the kiss on the ground.
It clicks in that moment, and your face flushes as you quickly try to save face.
“ Wa-Wait, no, L—did you just throw my kiss? ”
“ I did. ”
“ Rude! ”
“ Ruder than forcing yourself upon a stranger? ”
“ UGH! You’re so infuriating, Leo! It’s me! ”
You tugged off your bandana, glaring at him with as much frustration as you could manage.
Which, frankly, wasn’t much. You sort of looked more like a grumpy little hamster than a fearsome, upset partner.
“ Oh—! ”
“ Yeah. OH. ”
You cross your arms at him.
He glances at the ground, at you, then back to the ground.
“ What—“
Leo immediately starts miming a fishing position, trying to reel in a catch. He then seems to grab something, and only once he wipes his lips again do you realize he was trying to take back the kiss he threw away.
You immediately break your expression to crack up in a fit of giggles, and he takes this moment as his chance to sneak another kiss.
“ Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to be a hero? ”
request: hi hil! I read your work and it was amazing! I was hoping you would write the rise boys with a vigilante s/o? (Gn) but the boys don't know that yet and one day s/o is fighting the foot or someone, you decide, then their turtle bf shows up and helps them. S/o forgot they were in costume for a minute before running to their turtle in shining shell and kissing them, so it turns into a whole thing and s/o unmasks themself, how do the boys react??
🝮 “ sun flare ”
rise!mikey x vigilante!g/n
author’s note: the way this has just been sitting in my notes for how long?? Gosh.. I sure did miss writing for yall, and not a day’s gone by that I haven’t thought about it.. This is.. Part two of four for the vigilante request? Let’s see if I can actually finish those other two haha!
word count: 2.7k
Bored in the lair, Mikey aimlessly walks towards the living room couch with his phone in hand. He scrolls through contacts until his thumb hovers over your name.
“ Hmmm… They might be busy today, but it never hurts to ask! ”
After shooting you a text to hang out and waiting patiently on the couch for nearly an entire hour, he eventually rolls off the cushions and onto his feet to find something to distract himself. At least until he hears back from you.
This eventually leads him straight to Donnie’s doorstep (roomstep?).
“ Ohhhh Donnie~! ”
In a sing-songy tune, Mikey invites himself into his brother’s room. Donnie doesn’t spare him a glance but rather a swift raise of his hand waving acknowledgement of his presence.
“ What’re you doing? ”
Mikey inquires as he comes up and drapes his hands over Donnie, resting his chin on his shoulder while his eyes flit across the large display. It looks like different camera angles, all showing various spots across town.
“ Just keeping an eye on the city. There has been a vigilante out doing our job lately. ”
“ Oh! Do you mean Sun Flare? I love them! ”
Donnie lulls his head towards Mikey then rolls his eyes.
“ I don’t know if you notice, Mikey, but too many heroes on the scene can jeopardize our position. ”
“ How? It’ll just make it safer in my opinion! ”
“ Opposing morals and values, lack of cohesive coordination, heroic malpractice, rise in alarm to local human authorities—why, there’s such a rich litany of ‘what can go wrong’, mon frère! ”
Donnie’s fingers skirt across the keyboard rapidly, shuffling in and out of the camera angles. While Mikey didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, he did perk up at a bizarre sight he caught in one camera angle before it vanished.
“ Wait! ”
He cries, straightening up and pointing at the right corner display.
“ Go back, Donnie—go back to that last one! ”
Furrowing his brows in confusion, Donnie obliges nonetheless. As he swaps to the previous angle, Mikey idly taps Donnie’s shoulder and shakes his head, muttering ‘ no, not that one, the other one… no, the other… ‘
Backtracking two more displays, Donnie nearly leapt out his skin as Mikey pointed aggressively and shouts.
“ STOP! … See? There, that’s Sun Flare! Oh, they’re fighting the Foot—see Donnie? They’re helping! ”
Mikey’s hands rest on Donnie’s shoulders, shaking him vigorously. He watches starry-eyed as the vigilante holds their own against the Foot Recruits. It was exhilarating, up until the point where they seem distracted by something at their side. The vigilante rummages in their pockets, pulling out a phone. For only a moment, they leave themselves open, unaware of a grunt sneaking up behind them.
“ Gasp! Sun Flare, no, behind you! Behin—!! ”
Mikey sucks in a breath so sharply that Donnie winces and covers his ears, grumbling ‘ ow, knock it off ‘.
As the vigilante, Sun Flare, is dragged away by the recruits, Mikey looks just about ready to jump through the image.
“ Donnie, where is that? I have to go help them, Sun Flare’s, like, my most favorite hero ever! ”
“ Firstly, legally speaking, they’re a vigilante, not a hero, and secondly, you’re better off letting it go. The displays on the bottom are just old recordings. The middle and left column displays are my ‘live displays’ ”
“ WHAT? Donnie, how long has it been since that happened?! ”
With a swipe of his mouse, Donnie props his elbow on the desk and leans his cheek into his hand.
“ Eh, looks like it’s been about an hour. ”
Groaning, Mikey’s hands drop from Donnie’s shoulders to his chair’s back and shake it rather obnoxiously.
“ Dooonnieeee!! Come on, I have to save them, do you know where they took Sun Flare?? ”
Swatting away his brother, Donnie growls out an ‘ okay, okay! stop it! ’ and makes quick work of locating similar recordings that may have captured the Foot recruit’s escape.
To no one’s surprise, he’s able to follow it right back to a shady looking building. The video display shows them hauling the vigilante in, along with a couple of mutants and random crates. Donnie leans in, squinting at the scene.
“ Is that… the Foot’s hideout? What’re they doing with all those mutants? ”
“ Thanks Donnie, you’re the best! ”
Mikey is quick to scurry right on out the room before his brother can even stop him.
Donnie rises from his chair and drops the mouse. He shouts for Mikey to wait, but unfortunately the orange-banded turtle was much too far to hear.
——-
Unbeknownst to dearest Mikey, you were actually a step away from freedom already.
Like dum-dums, those Foot grunts had tossed you into a cell without any second thought, slammed the gate closed, and went on to whatever else they did at homebase.
Completely unaware of you having swiped their keys during your dramatic flailing.
“ What a joke. This is supposed to be the nefarious group terrorizing the city? They’re obviously not bright enough. ”
With your back flat against the wall, you peek around the corners to scope out the coast before snaking a few tools from the small bag you kept adhered to your thigh. Several mystic trinkets filled it, all that you had gotten your hands on a little over a year ago with Mikey’s help. They were neat little things, depending on how you used it.
Hold them between your hands long enough to melt into a lotion-like substance, and you got yourself an insanely-strong adhesive—you commonly used this for stealth missions like this, scaling up walls and crawling on the ceiling. In absurdly large corridors like those of the Foot’s hideout, the likelihood of someone noticing you up there is hilariously low.
You were intending to continue up the walls to a window out and then scale down and escape.
Escape was within reach, and you were fully prepared to get out of here without a second wasted.
But! You unfortunately overheard an interesting tidbit between some grunts.
Something about a clumsy, stupid mutant?
You crawl a bit lower down the wall, closer to the room to hear better what they were talking about. Back when you were fighting them, right before you got a test message, you did notice they seemed to be targeting and capturing mutants for some reason. And there was a cage of them, too, when you were being brought to your own little cell.
What were they up to…?
“ I can’t believe they want us to waste our time on this ugly mutant. I mean, look at this, who’s he think he is? An artist? The next Picasso? ”
“ Oh, cringe. What shitty art.. Why do they want us to get the littlest one of those turtles anyways? ”
“ I heard it’s because he’s the dumbest and the easiest. ”
The guards snicker in their office, wasting their time as they threw jab after jab towards what you assumed was a file of sorts on Mikey.
…
Escape be damned. You were beginning to boil in your skin listening to them.
Was a lousy couple of grunts from a crappy group called FEET really badmouthing your beau? His stickers are adorable, and he IS an artist—a talented one at that! Cuter than they could imagine!
So, remember those cute little mystic toys? If you want to use them for some offense-based power, pop one in your mouth. Don’t swallow, just chew. Grind it between your teeth until it sounds like pop rocks, and you’re ready.
You slap some more lotion-like substance around your boots for good measure, and aim the tips of the toe to the door frame. In one swift motion, you free fall for a second, cross your arms out of annoyance, and swing into an upside down hang in the doorway.
“ For a couple of Chatty Cathy’s, you sure make it easy to get ambushed. ”
As the grunts try to respond to your sudden appearance, you grind your teeth once more against the substance, then spit a piece of the chewed wad towards the grunts. As the orange mass mixes with the air, it sparks increasingly until it collides with the counter. You kick off the door frame and land on the ground with one hand steeling your balance, and rise.
The explosion knocks the guards to their feet as you ready to fight them, only to find out they were weak enough for that simple attack to do them in.
“ Oh come on, no way.. That’s so embarrassing for you two.. ”
Unfortunately, it did alert nearby guards into coming to investigate. Cursing under your breath, you look around to see there were no other ways outside from the way you came, and already Foot members were closing in.
Relax, just a couple more items from your pouch, a few quick combats, and then you’re out of here!
“ It’ll be fiiiine… ”
Tiredly, you went into the hallway and prepared to fight the oncoming waves of grunts. Maybe you weren’t up for this, but you wouldn’t go down without trying first. Your stance was unsteady, fighting spirit having diminished from the absurdity of the two trash talkers going down so quickly.
“ Ugh.. I just want to go home and see Mikey.. ”
You pout, lunging to sock the first grunt in the jaw before dropping to the ground swiftly to dodge a grunt from behind. His strike instead hit another Foot member. While you might’ve held your own for a few hits and dodges, there was only so much the infamous Sun Flare could take in a day before they were… well… Kaput.
Once someone caught grip of your wrist, then your ankle, you sighed and relented, already working on Jailbreak pt.2.
That is, until a distant battle cry pierced through.
“ WA-HOO! ”
As suddenly as it was heard, a huge explosion of debris followed. The wall crumbled like paper as some hunkajunk car rolled through and knocked down half of the crowd like bowling pins. With the setting sun filtering in, an all-too-familiar frame stood triumphantly in its beams. Once his joyous eyes settled on you being held by measly Foot recruits, his expression soured, and he launched into action.
His movements were almost too quick to follow as he pounced the enemies down, usually in one fell swoop of his fiery weapon—did it have a name? It sure did have personality.
“ Sun Flare, watch out! ”
Instinctively, you swung your arm back, elbow colliding with a grunt who tried to take advantage of your distraction. Quickly, you stumbled backwards and ended up colliding back to back with Mikey.
“ Don’t worry, Sun! I’m a huge fan. Oh, and I’m Mikey! Wait, less tally, more fighty! Sorry, I’m so excited!! ”
Your chest swells with affection, filling you up with warmth as his simple presence rekindled your fighting spirit.
“ Right! ”
You shout, electricity crackling behind your eyes as you shot forth to the crowd before you, hands dipping into the pouch at your leg to take out a particular mystic weapon shaped like a shovel. Swipe once at the ground, and—
“ Agh! ”
“ Whoa! The floor?! It’s—“
“ It’s moving! ”
The ground ahead of the cut would immediately contort and melt into a semi-liquidy form. The tack upon your shoes still worked enough for you to take a leap to the wall, running sideways against it as you chewed a couple more pieces of the mystic gum.
Mikey turned, watching with big eyes as he recognized the stance you were assuming. Like a true fan boy, he couldn’t help but shout out the same signature attack name you had been caught saying on multiple recordings across the city.
“ FLARE SEED BLAST! ”
“ FLARE SEED BLAST! ”
Kicking off the wall, momentum swung your body upside down as you positioned your hand around your mouth like a tight chamber for the lodged attack to pump out of. Similar to a BB gun, the wads from your mouth shot amongst the crowd and set off a chain of explosions resembling miniature sun flares blooming.
You intended to catch yourself and land coolly against the ground, but instead you were shocked to feel warmth wrap around you and a sturdy chest hold you secure. Mikey had caught you, touching down in the position you were imagining—one knee against the ground and your fist planted for balance.
For a few seconds of the fight coming to a settle, you remained in his embrace, cheek pressed firmly against his plastron. Your eyes trailed up to his face, a strong, stoic expression washing across the floor to make sure the battle was through.
As he snapped out of it and looked down at you, his expression melted away to something akin to embarrassment.
“ … Ah—! Sorry. ”
Mikey shot up and let you to your feet, his gaze suddenly avoiding you as he stammered around his words.
“ I-I saw them—you, well, when, it was hours ago! You’re my favorite hero, so I just, and uh— Well—“
As his words came out completely wrong, fatigue washed over you. He was such a hero, even rushing to your rescue. There was no doubt in your mind that he was the farthest from an idiot. Truly your sweet, beloved artist..
Your body moves on its own, quick yet soft, pulling Mikey into an embrace to place a gentle kiss upon his lips.
“ I missed you.. ”
You mutter, staring lovingly into his eyes. They held shock in them, reflecting an emotion of daze and… huh? Why did he seem so … Unhappy?
Mikey pushes you back, covering his mouth immediately.
“ Whoa! I-I’m, I’m grateful, truly, but this is wrong! ”
“ What? Why? We always kiss? ”
You tilted your head in confusion while Mikey gawked, paling to a color you hadn’t imagined possible for him.
“ W-WHAT?!? No, no, look! You’re my favorite hero, I promise—“
“ Oh—“
“ But I’ll have you know—“
“ Wait?”
“—I have a very lovely partner waiting home for me! I love them very much—“
“ No, Mikey—“
“ And as flattered as I am for my favorite hero to like me, I would never betray my lovely Y/N!”
He was pacing in circles as you were trying to interrupt and stop him. Amidst your fatigue, you completely forgot about this whole vigilante identity being a secret. While you would’ve been upset any other time, his loyalty to you was too heartwarming.
“ Mikey! ”
You tug off your mask, smiling forgivingly.
“ It’s me, love, calm down. ”
He stares at you silently, long enough for you to start worrying he might be mad. You open your mouth to try and plead your case, only to be cut off by his sudden screech.
“ NO WAY! Oh mi gosh, oh mi gosh, oh mi GOSH! ”
He sweeps you up immediately, one hand on your lower back while the other nestled under your rump. Spinning you around, his feet did happy little tippy taps.
“ My sweet lovely beautiful Y/N is also the amazing and wonderful new-hero-on-the-scene SUN FLARE? Oh my—IS THE NAME A REFERENCE TO ME? It has to be! ”
He was glowing with pride as you laughed in his arms. His grip loosened to slide you back down, shifting instead to pull you close into a kiss.
“ Pft—Mikey, is it that obvious? Sun Flare? ”
He peppers your entire face and neck in kisses.
“ It is now! ”
The two of you melt into each other’s embrace, completely forgetting the mess around you… You want nothing more than to go home and rest, as does Mikey probably, so you both walk to the hole in the wall Mikey left.
The damage was sure to piss off the entire clan, but you’d handle that another day.
“ … I feel like I’m forgetting something..”
You mumbled, glancing at Mikey who casted a puzzled look. He intended to follow up with something along the lines of “ nonsense ! you’re just tired.. ” but you were both unceremoniously met with the rest of his brothers swinging in.
“ Whoa, there was a party and I wasn’t invited?! ”
“ Leo, hush. Mikey, you should—What? Why is Y/N here? ”
“ Michael, it would behoove you to stay long enough for me to finish running diagnostics—hello Y/N who is actually vigilante Sun Flare, Leo owes me 5$ now—but next time, do not leave until I finish investigating so I could have told you the Foot Clan is nabbing all the Mutants in New York! ”
Seeing all the brothers arrive with such an air of determination had you wilting with exhaustion.
guess who’s back 🥰🎉☀️🐢🧡 this was so cute!! love how even while fighting Sun Flare wouldnt miss a text from Mikey and it being the reason for their capture 😂
Hi hi! Will you ever do/have you done any of the weak spot story from Donnie’s POV? Excluding the chapter of his story which was on his POV!
do you wear wigs? have you worn wigs? will you wear wigs? /aff
I have no plans to do it in an official capacity at this time because honestly I don't think it will be all that ground breaking. Despite his trauma, he is but a simple man driven by very simple core tenants. I have done what I joking call his midnight sun somewhere here on Tumblr, but you can quickly find it compiled in Spot Check (it's chapter 7). It's a side series that takes interactions much like this one and collects all of the conversations I have deemed canon. Please consider anything written there to have, for sure, happened in the story. The only things that haven't happened are clearly labeled as non-canon to the Villain's Mark universe.
Thank you for asking though! Always happy to answer any and all thoughts and questions~
Attempted Execute of Non-Executable Memory - Chapter 33
RotTMNT Michelangelo x Kendra
Kendra is sporting quite the toy in this week's chapter art by @shardkn1ight
Rated: Teen and Up Audiences
Warnings/Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Romance, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), I Flesh Out Kendra’s Character, Character Study, I Give Kendra a Backstory, Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Childhood Trauma, Fake/Pretend Turned Real Relationships, First Generation Immigrant Kid Problems, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Chaos Soulmates, They’re the Same Flavor of Unhinged and I Swear it Works, Shared Trauma Shared Goals Shared Bed, Mutually Assured Character Development, Happy Ending, Drug Use
Synopsis: Years have passed since Kendra hit the lowest of lows. It only took a couple of prison stints, but she’s carved out a simple existence that keeps her from repeating past mistakes. Plan goes according to boring plan until divine inspiration walks in using the form of one specific orange coded mutant. Kendra only needs to get close enough to him to plant a virus in his infuriating brother’s servers, but will she be infected along the way?
Also available on Ao3
First 🧡 Previous
The row of them was probably an obvious sight.
It started with Michelangelo at one end, who was rip raring to go. He stared up at AMNH 5027 with a clear intent to climb. Were there not a faint barrier that absolutely could not keep the mutant out, he would probably already be on top of the bone stack. Only decorum truly kept him from making that final leap, but the thoughts of tip-toeing across bones to do the absolute impossible danced around him in toothy stars.
Kendra stood trapped in the middle next and was not her usual picture of cool. Glittering attention wasn’t something that was possible on her made-up face, but the glisten of her eyes shined something else up. For a kid who was raised with more attention to robots, the generalization of dinosaurs bored her then. Now, in exchange, she saw them anew as their behemoth creatures and true source of the fairytale mythics that bore the dragons she came to adore as a teenager and on for their cooler age.
S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. then took up the other end with nary a thought other than the sheer excitement for where he was. Surrounded by people and not stared at with any more than with confused passing glances, he enjoyed a level of anonymity while everyone’s eyes were instead trained on ancient giants. He had no similar ancestral connections to such beasts and, instead, his energy stemmed from the activity itself. Long starved of any sort of banal school trip or tired parent’s try at educational entertainment, every JPG in the world couldn’t make up for seeing the bones in their live glory.
“I could pull the sickest Fred Flintstone meets Sydney Allen!”
“Did you know this was the first ever mounted T. Rex?”
“Chip Kidd did not do those tiny arms justice! Look how small they are!”
They exchanged glances, as their intent had already been clearly read by them and everyone around.
The security guard inching toward said as much.
“Let’s move!” Mikey pointed his exclamation.
“Wait, the plaque!” Kendra looked back to it with puffed cheeks.
“Specimen ID: AMNH 5027. Discovery: Found by Barnum Brown in Montana in 1908. Historical Pose: Initially displayed upright, an iconic but scientifically outdated stance-” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. rattled off.
“Alright… I didn’t book the audio tour, but Mikey, you’re always so good at telling me that sort of thing.” Kendra bat her eyelashes at her boyfriend.
He ignored her dig and caught her hand for a squeeze. “I’m sure S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. here just downloaded the museum guide, huh bud?”
“I did, but I don’t like either of your tones.” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s gaze narrowed before he snapped upright and away. “I’m keeping all my cool facts to myself.”
“Cool facts he says…” Kendra teased.
“The coolest!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. yelled with his whole body.
Mikey kissed her hand. “Shall we look at every exhibit and get in everyone’s ways?”
“Romance!” She pretended to swoon, but mostly bumped him.
“Ew. Stop. What is that?” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. gestured between them.
“You’re on our date now, sucka!” Mikey threw down his arms in gesture, which tugged Kendra along.
She followed easily as she was used to his antics. “And we’re gonna be super gross the whole time. Museums? That’s kind of like our thing at this point.”
“Booyah!” He held up a fist with his free hand.
She pounded it and sent S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. bobbed brows.
“I… don’t want to be here anymore. I want to leave.” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. lifted a leg to turn around, but stopped as he nearly kicked a small child in the face.
A parent chuffed loudly and rushed her kid along.
“It begins…!” Kendra reared.
Mikey whipped her forward. “We gotta look at all the old bones!”
She trended him toward the left. “There’s an exhibit about them dying. Aw, babe! Mass extinction!”
“We’ll watch every minute of their demise.” Mikey nodded appropriately.
Kendra couldn’t help but smile.
S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. pouted behind them. “You might not even make it. You’re supposed to take a quiz and-!”
She slowed and checked on the automaton.
He turned his head away.
“We’re not going to leave you out.” She told him.
“Don’t patronize me! I’m not worried! Why would I be!? And don’t trick me! I’m still on that!” He stormed around to reach Mikey’s other side. “Unc, what’s your favorite dinosaur? It’s a T-Rex, right? You have that onesie!”
“Hmmm!! I think we found out that was actually an alligator which made a lot of sense with the spikes down the back…!” Mikey said the hum as he perused the exhibits. “Kendra, what did I say on our first date?”
“I don’t remember everything you say.” She leaned forward to read a plaque and felt her hands go up behind her back.
“I remember yours!”
“What is it then?” The moment she squinted to read, she felt herself embody the way her dad stood when he would stare noncommittally at the television and she righted with a concealing cough.
Mikey peeped as he hadn’t expected the question to turn back on him.
S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. stared at her with sharp attention.
“Wow.” Kendra looked elsewhere. “You talk such a big game about meaningful conversation…”
“I’ll find it! I just have to jog my memory! You’ll see! I’m going to guess so right!” Mikey jogged off.
Kendra felt the backfire directly in her face. “Any chance you’ll drop it?”
“Hell no, what was that Asian dad pose?”
“Fuck you!” She flipped him off as she stormed toward Plexiglas enclosures.
He chased her. “Old man! I bet you pass out with your socks on in a recliner!”
“And how would you know, hm?” She turned on him and caused him to stumble around some pedestrians. “I know about your…!”
S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. stared.
“Your-! Wait, so if that purple dick is your dad then…?” She crossed her fingers in the air. “Stupid family. I know about… your grandpa…? I guess?”
“Splints?”
“Sure, Splint-!” Her lids slammed shut along with her thoughts.
She could feel S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. waiting.
“I’m talking about your dad’s dad.”
“Yup.”
“Mikey’s dad.”
“Yup!”
“Not the second dad. Not the one named after the buff pill from Osmosis Jones.”
He played a recorded snort. “That’s Drix, but I am so using that on Barry!”
“Mikey’s dad’s name is Splints?! Isn’t he the one who named his kids after the Italian hacks!”
“I mean I’m pretty sure their paintings are in a museum with better security than this…”
“Tell that to the robberies.”
“Actually-!”
“No!” She pushed him around a display. “I want to know about Splints first.”
“You’re so handsy!” He shoved her away. “You get that it’s actually ‘Splinter’ and nothing more!”
“Splinter!?”
His triangular head whipped to the side and there was an audible zipper sound.
“Splinter…. Hamato!?”
He folded his arms.
“No. No! He’s Lou Jitsu! I remember now!”
S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. revved with an irritated noise. “Used to be! Not anymore!”
“What does that mean!?”
“Ugh! It means that was his stage name, but he also made it his legal name, but his last legal name before that was Hamato, which he passed down, but then, informally now, he’s Splinter.”
“That… doesn’t make any sense!”
“What do you know!?”
“Exactly! Nothing about you-you-!”
He eyed her with one huge red bulb. “Hm? What do you have today, nasty?”
“Nothing. Same shit.” She disengaged. “You get under my skin, you know that?”
“You make it easy.”
She walked away from him and tried to focus on pictures of skeletons.
He followed closely.
“Go bother your uncle!”
“You’re weird.”
“Bite me.”
He only pointed to his sealed beak.
“It’s an expression!”
A smug air poured off him.
“Oh! Goodie! I proved your point! Easy to piss off! Now you’ll spend the whole damn day doing it!”
“And Unc has really never tried therapy on you?”
“I had enough of that from the state.” She seethed.
S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was oddly quiet.
She had time to actually read about plesiosaurs.
“You mean like in jail?”
“Yeah. So what?”
“It didn’t help.”
She blew him off literally. “Actually… My time was signed off. I’m a success case! It’s somewhere in my record. Temper tantrums. Assigned anger management. Done to completion and let back into genpop!”
He rolled on his metal feet.
“I’m the one with a normal reaction. You all got too comfortable with weirdness.”
He was eyeing her with the side of his head again.
She pointed to a raptor display. “Do this one.”
“Why should I?”
“Do it. I’ll tell you something cool.”
He weighed his options carefully.
She shifted her weight from one leg to the other as if she couldn’t care less.
He bounced in irritation. “I hate you. I’m not doing this for you.”
“Sure, kid.”
He bobbed with annoyance. “My programming-!”
“Just name the specimen!”
“Velociraptor-!” He started.
“That’s you.” She pointed to the skull then turned and shoved her finger into his equivalent chest.
He blinked a few rapid times before looking down at her hand. “Huh?”
“Your eyes.” She gestured to the sides of her head. “What’s your field of vision?”
This time when he twitched it was out of recognition. “Depends…”
“Because you have both bino and mono sight, right?”
He seemed reluctant to answer.
“It’s the way you move your head. You can see forward facing, but there’s clearly a binocular overlap. Independent optic sensors just make sense for your design.”
“Yeah…”
“So that’s you. Same as what? A raptor? Like the bird. That’s why they have similar names or whatever.”
He tipped to one side. “Just ‘cause something sounds the same, doesn’t mean it’s related. Birds being dino’s super distant cousins wasn’t found until after both species were already named.”
“What’s with the names then?” She had long read the card and it didn’t say.
“Raptor is rapio.”
“Latin.”
“’Seize by force.’”
She chuffed.
“Velox is obvious. It’s fast. So, velociraptor is supposed to be fast thief. Oviraptor is egg thief and then I guess raptor-birds are just thieves.”
“How do you feel about eggs?” She looked at him.
“I’m not a raptor! I don’t even like them!”
“No?” She eyed him.
He resisted.
She could see clips of Jase.
Trying to hide his interests.
The ones she could pick apart.
Use against him.
She pulled back.
Looked ahead.
There was more and more to see so she walked on.
“I like Pterodactyls!” A shout came from behind her.
She slowed.
She could sense S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was struggling.
She waited.
“They’re small and cool and… they can fly! They ride thermal waves and the currents! Like sky surfers!”
She remembered a drone who was free from his shackles and spiraled through the air.
“Shredding the atmosphere is the best.”
She finally turned.
He seemed petulant and looked younger than his height suggested.
“Runner-up would be a concavenator… They got a cool shark fin and-!”
She walked over to him. “Alright, alright… Your choices are fine… They aren’t the lamest picks.”
“P-terry, dude!? You can’t even diss something that sick!”
“Try liking a turkey.”
He was immediately disarmed. “Turkey?”
She checked for Mikey, who was clear across the room and arguing with what looked like a couple of clearly dinosaur obsessed tweens.
S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. followed her gaze from beside her.
She minded how close he was and turned her attention to the one exhibit she had been avoiding. “I have my own Big Mama…”
He traced her eye line from their proximity. “Citipati osmolskae.”
Kendra didn’t dare go over there. “My mom was a dinosaur kid. Not me.”
He was so close he could almost set his head on her shoulder.
She could feel those eyes of his analyzing her every move. “I came here a lot when I was young, but I was always bored so she would… tell me crazy stuff. Like Citipati were ancient turkeys or how the Java Man would get me. She had this one bit about this animal bone she found when she was little. She swore it was from something older than a komodo dragon. That she found her own dinosaur bone.”
“Dragon…” He repeated in a hush.
She shook her head. “My club didn’t come from that. I… didn’t care about all this when I was a kid. Like I said. Not me. I thought all this was…”
He looked around.
“Boring.” She shrugged.
There was a half-baked ding and he clearly curled into himself. “Oh… Your mom… I didn’t realize that she was-”
She turned directly toward him.
He went on high alert.
“Therapy.” She told him with a little too much breeze.
It blew him back to a safer distance.
“Mommy problems. Smart kid with stimulation problems. Society problems. Jail time.” She clipped and slapped down each sentence as a headline for her demeanor.
He nodded slowly.
“Enough about me. Do they have a Pterodactyl on display or what?”
“Why tell me…?”
She put her hands on her hips and looked at the models up ahead to see if she could suss one out.
“…all that?”
“You asked about therapy. Mikey gets that it won’t help me. You don’t, so maybe you will now that you know what he does.”
“You could probably still use therapy.”
She glared at him.
“But… I… guess I understand you a bit better.”
“Yeah, well… I don’t really get why you got all up in arms about velociraptors. Pterodactyl is pretty basic for someone who used to be a drone.”
“You know I wasn’t always a drone.”
She started to move. “Of course I do, but your original programming pisses me off-!”
“I was a smart lair.”
“That’s not-!” She rotated slowly.
“I was built to clean and favor Donnie.”
”You aren’t…” She tried again.
“Teens that don’t wanna clean, amiright? Shocker! I just also had to give them massages and repeat motivational lines to Donnie while he was sleeping…”
She couldn’t make a sound a third time.
“’You are the bravest turtle, Donatello, and strongest and hunkiest. You are a real dreamboat.’"
She swallowed her rising bile.
“The drone me wasn’t until version 2.0, but that was after the bros messed with my wires and made me like this…”
Her fury hit the back of her throat. “You are not-!”
“I get it! You keep telling me I became more!”
She readied herself for the fight.
“Which. I’m flattered. Really.”
His tone was so casual with the perfect hint of bashful that it poured over her like cold water.
She saw him through flowing steam. “I think so too.”
Her exhale cleared her vision.
“Which is super annoying ‘cause it’s you.”
She caught the vestiges of her anger just in case.
“And I don’t wanna grow with you, but like, yeah, I totally evolved, but also I can’t stop thinking about my record store date!”
She straightened some.
“Joe said we need others.”
The crowd rumbled around them.
“Which, duh, but also… yeah. Like I wouldn’t be able to DJ if my fore-jockeys hadn’t spun phonographs, which wouldn’t have that name if it weren’t for riding horses.”
A little kid squealed.
“And if Donnie hadn’t been self-absorbed, then the bros wouldn’t have needed to rewire me and give him a taste of his own medicine.”
A parent ushered another along.
“And by being a smart butler, I played Donnie’s number one playlist.”
A couple talked about books.
“That was my first ever taste of music. The first time I ever played for someone else. To set a mood. To make people, any people, feel good.”
Another reminisced.
“And I just think that maybe running from or pretending the past didn’t happen sucks. I mean I’m always gonna be mad at you. You are totally the worst and hurt my feelings on a nuclear level! I don’t think I should let that go, but I also think… that it doesn’t bother me that much. What I was originally made to be, that is. Sure, when Donnie gets too Donnie then I pull out my origins ‘cause it makes him feel terrible and it’s my low blow trump card and it should be, but… It is what it is. It’s all I’ve ever known and look how I turned out.”
She loosened.
“The past is all around us…” His arms came out the smallest bit.
It framed him amongst models of Gargantuas.
“Musicians have to make the wackness so the maestros can find the get down.”
He had to be a wack servant so he could get to where he was now.
“We do it all together.”
Her lips moved across her face.
“But also don’t go back to the crime. That’s not what I’m saying.”
“You’re saying I need to stop running from my past.”
“Embrace it. It-”
“It is what it is.”
“And you were wack.”
“Extremely wack.” She almost smiled.
“But your moms doesn’t sound like it.”
Her gaze shot to his.
He looked down his beak at her.
“She wasn’t.”
“Of course not.”
“She made me.”
“Now… Maybe…?”
“Don’t.”
“Yep. That sounds like a limit.”
“Thank you.”
“I have those. You don’t.”
Her lids lowered.
“I’ll keep saying it!”
“I know.”
“You know what your biggest problem is?”
“That I’m a manipulative bitch?”
“I love hearing you admit to it, but no.”
“What then?” She twirled her wrist.
“That despite everything you do to get away from your past, you use it to belittle yourself and everyone around you.”
She stared.
“You can’t see you past being a bad guy. You’re constantly in awe of how I’m not a drone anymore. All these ideas of normal. You clearly thought one way and got away from that tune, but you’re so afraid of the song playing again, to hit next because you’ve got in on shuffle, that you refuse to actually skip to the next song, which has a way higher chance of being a better one! You gotta accept that none of this is that. That nothing will ever be that and you can’t keep manipulating the playlist to only play songs that you think you and everyone around you likes. You need fresh beats and to do that you gotta be open to what’s coming.”
She heard him.
The words went through her like hollow bones.
A few got caught. “I wouldn’t say ‘awe.’”
“Why are you lowkey kind of obsessed with me!?” He dodged the moment she struck.
“Who, you mechanical bug!? Who is obsessed with whom!? You literally stalk me!”
“Keeping tabs is not stalking! You have an email from Jeremy, by the way! You have my blessing!”
She went to wring his metal neck.
He was grimy with oil or something and her hands slipped off along with his laughter.
“You twerp!”
“Nyeh-heh!”
“And your music metaphors suck!”
“Now hold on-!”
“I got it!” Mikey appeared with hands thrown out to both parties.
Kendra and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. gaped.
“Diplodocus…” Her boyfriend eyed her.
There was a single beat where the room murmured on.
Both she and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. burst out laughing.
“Not even close!” She caught Mikey’s sad shoulders.
“It’s not?! C’mon! You’re kidding?!” He leaned into her.
“Oh, man, Unc. Your timing, bruh…” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. feigned wiping a tear.
“I even got a docent to help...” Mikey feebly pointed.
“It wasn’t enough…” She shook her head.
“What is it then?” He asked earnestly and with a sheen of wet eyes.
She steered him away. “Let’s go to the Hall of Vertebrate Origins and get blown up.”
“Noo, tell me!” Mikey whined.
“I’ll tell you mine, Unc.” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. offered.
“Do they have it here?” Mikey asked.
“Not exactly. They got a Quetzalcoatlus! It’s got a 33-foot wingspan!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. threw out his arms and flapped.
Someone was hit and the automaton apologized profusely.
Mikey snapped. “P-terry! I remember!”
Kendra hugged him. “Not mine, but good job.”
“Yeah, that’s S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s.” Mikey appeared stoic as he tried not to be upset for only being half right. “It’s funny ‘cause Shell’s a hawk-bird.”
“Hawk… bird?” Kendra had a sense of déjà vu.
“Yeah, his head.” Mikey made a v-shape with his hands. “He’s got hawk-head.”
“Raptor vision…” She murmured.
“That sounds way cooler!” He glittered.
“I’m not designed after a bird!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. stormed in a small, angry circle.
“Yeah, uh-huh. I remember you swooping us like magpies ‘cause of a little light-hearted milk thievery!”
Kendra thought as fast as she could and belted out, “Lactis-raptor!”
“What’s that?!” Mikey fed off her excitement.
“No!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. fled.
They chased after him.
Mikey caught her hand and gave her knuckles a peck. “I’ll tell you my fav if you give me a hint.”
“No mushy stuff. He’s getting away.”
“No, I will! I haven’t forgotten!”
“So, you weren’t going to say Kendra-saurus.”
“That would be the coolest one.”
“Mikey!”
“Stegosaurus! 100 percent!”
Her progression hindered. “… Seriously? That seems so…”
“I get it!” He turned to face her. “But think about it!”
She saw S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. clearly stop as he realized he wasn’t being pursued anymore.
“They aren’t try-hards! They’re so cool and slow, like they go with the flow. Then, they got all that armor. That’s like a shell upgrade! Plus, they ain’t even gotta front. They’re vegetarians. What’s more laidback than that? The dudes look like they just need a skateboard and sunglasses to complete the look and that’s turtley-approved!”
“Stop!” She pushed him with a grin.
“You know I’m right!” He protested smugly.
“Unc probably is!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. appeared with the aura of a dejected child who wasn’t ‘it’ in a game of tag anymore.
“Uncle’s boy!” Kendra stuck her tongue out at him.
“Oh, you are so getting blown up by the meteor!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. huffed.
“I don’t think that’s how it works.” She accosted him.
“It is! You take a personality test and-!”
“Ankylosaurus too.” Mikey spoke out of turn.
He was again stared at by his companions.
“What? I love goofy guys who are secretly awesome.” He grinned.
“‘Cause we both fit that type.” Kendra tried to pick him up.
He was far too heavy and she mostly ended up headbutting him.
He coiled around her. “Good point, but all the smart dinosaurs are too sharp…”
A brush of her body to his gave her tingles that she melted against him to hold in place.
“Then let’s go see the hadrosaurs!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. found one of Mikey’s arms and tugged.
“Which one’s that?” Mikey looked between the others.
“Duck.” Kendra quacked.
“Duck-billed!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. hissed and yanked.
Kendra played tug-of-war with Mikey as the rope for the sake of it.
The man eventually scolded them both and they dove deeper into the exhibit.
Kendra and Mikey’s woven hands became a standout and Kendra and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s bickering tapered off as a wall read indicated they were about to walk-through The End of the Age of Dinosaurs. Mikey had a strong reaction to the swirling reds and burning yellows that were meant to invoke the meteor and became oddly desolate. It took a truce and a hand on either of his arms to coax him away. He was nursed as they walked through violent looking dioramas and up to one of several lines. He eventually and literally shook himself free of the melancholy he wouldn’t explain as their turn came up.
Kendra hadn’t been tracking their progress, but they had apparently entered a queue for the personality test S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. had mentioned earlier. It was a rudimentary touchscreen that asked questions and then assigned the participant a dinosaur. One would carry their label into an adjoining room where an enormous video was playing.
An informative woman narrated the end of an era and it made Kendra feel especially small. Little specks of life tried to carry on, but it felt like a hollow existence in a grand scheme. She walked out wondering about survivors and Mikey steered a little too clear of a recreation of the destruction. It forced S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. to take odd point which he clearly struggled with. He tried his usual child-like antics to pull his companions from their stupors, but eventually switched over to his downloaded museum guide. He spoke highly of the new food chain that was eventually established to fill the void.
The results of the dinosaur assignments came around and, by a strange coincidence, Kenda was the only one with a match that survived. Her apparent survivor's guilt now seemed apt , but S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. wasn’t so sure. He was irritated that his wishful thinking for her demise hadn’t come to be and dodged his apparent death with modern relevancy. An echo of his earlier philosophy said he wouldn’t be the automaton he was without that prehistoric demise. It was his scapegoat, along with a very specific question that he said was rigged in the quiz. He clung to his complaints all the way to the gift shop.
Any ire was wiped away with a wall of toys. It roused his excitable nature and Mikey of all people was forced to give S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. the limit of a single purchase. The nephew took his decree to an exceeding degree. He weighed monetary values like scales in his hands and Mikey watched on amused.
Kendra looked out from their closeness and wondered about her sibling.
Did Jase have a favorite dinosaur?
She could barely remember.
She felt like there had been some sort of implication, but she could only conjure cartoon images of badgers, Africa, and a wizard. There was something in that vein that had to be reptilian. She took it as a cue from Mikey and planted herself in front of a display of miniatures in hopes one of them jogged her memory.
“Hey, Kendra…!” Something soft landed over her shoulder.
“Mikey, what is that?” She refused to indulge him as she was focused.
A fuzzy body pressed into her back. “You sure you don’t want to see for yourself?!”
“Why would-?” Her head barely tilted before she froze.
She gawked for several long seconds.
When she whipped around, it must have been without a single telegraph because Mikey stumbled.
She caught a citipati plush right out of his arms and held it high. “How? Why? When? How?!”
“Just had to jog my memory.” Mikey preened.
S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. distinctly played a chuffed audio file on max volume.
Mikey tittered awkwardly. “Yup, totally all me…!”
Kendra spun away as fast as ultra-gooey emotions poured over her face.
“Do you like it…?” Mikey teased. “Is it your favorite…?”
“Shut up. I love her. I’m buying her. I’m blowing my whole budget this month on her! Yes!” She wanted to stomp, but she basically danced away with Mikey clucking behind her.
(Check out behind the scenes for this fic and more on my Patreon. You can follow me there, here, or the tag #AENEMfic for updates)
I'm taking 2026 by storm with my betas @tmntxthings and @unrestrainedhotsoup
Attempted Execute of Non-Executable Memory - Chapter 30
RotTMNT Michelangelo x Kendra
Stellar chapter artwork by the amazing @endlesslogo this week!
Rated: Teen and Up Audiences
Warnings/Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Romance, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), I Flesh Out Kendra’s Character, Character Study, I Give Kendra a Backstory, Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Childhood Trauma, Fake/Pretend Turned Real Relationships, First Generation Immigrant Kid Problems, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Chaos Soulmates, They’re the Same Flavor of Unhinged and I Swear it Works, Shared Trauma Shared Goals Shared Bed, Mutually Assured Character Development, Happy Ending, Drug Use
Synopsis: Years have passed since Kendra hit the lowest of lows. It only took a couple of prison stints, but she’s carved out a simple existence that keeps her from repeating past mistakes. Plan goes according to boring plan until divine inspiration walks in using the form of one specific orange coded mutant. Kendra only needs to get close enough to him to plant a virus in his infuriating brother’s servers, but will she be infected along the way?
This chapter goes out to @tmntxthings who came into my DMs with the best idea to round everything out!
ANNOUNCEMENT: I'm taking a vacation the next weekend this fic is supposed to update (10/18). I planned on just pushing the next chapter's release to 11/1 (it's next next posting date), but I might be making some adjustments to my post schedule in the near future as well. I can only confidentially say for now that AENEM will be back in November! Thank you for your patience 💖
Also available on Ao3
First 🧡 Previous
Mikey was busy.
That wasn’t unusual.
Her boyfriend was always up to something.
He was a vigilante.
He had his hobbies.
He must have done something for cash.
Kendra felt a little stupid for having never asked what exactly, but she also barely cared.
She never wanted to sink into a relationship where barely discussing one’s exhaustive work day was the norm.
No, ‘how was work?’
That’s how she and Mikey were.
Except she hadn’t seen him in nearly two weeks and hadn’t spoken to him in almost five days.
That wasn’t like him.
She assumed he was busy.
She accepted that.
It was alright if he was.
He should have told her.
He normally would have.
She hated this.
Hated checking her phone at the slightest noise.
What was she worried about?
Not him cheating.
She almost laughed at the idea alone.
Not him moving on.
She had been reassured enough for that.
She was stuck with him in the ways she cared for.
It was just odd.
Even when he was swept up in his hyperfixiations, she at least heard from him once a day. He would lose himself for many hours at a time, but eventually he would come out of his stupor and text her. There would be complaints about the toll he put on his body or pictures of what he worked on. She would sometimes wake up to the oddest questions, but that was all him, fine and dandy.
Except, this time, he had gone dark.
There had been little debate about which Hamato clan member to reach out to. The obvious people were out because they were too close. Raphael and April, as much as Kendra had come to appreciate them, were as nosey as they came. Both knew Michelangelo too well and would be a little too obsessed with figuring out she was asking where he was. If they knew where he was, that was fine. If they tried to interfere if he was trying to get away from her, then that would be a problem. Kendra wasn’t going to tattle on him. What he did was his business even if she was curious.
S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N., however, she thought of as a bit like a comrade.
Not one in arms, but one in code.
He knew her at her worst, but that gave him an edge.
He didn’t have any interest in looking out for her feelings.
He also protected Mikey, but he was his own free spirit.
He was a nephew.
A child of sorts who didn’t have the same sort of sibling-like duty.
He wouldn’t snitch.
He hadn’t yet after all.
‘Can confirm, Unc is alive and kicking, but I’m not gonna tell you where he is!’ S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s text soothed her.
What a twerp.
He then spent twenty minutes trying to convince her to download some co-op game so he could watch her fail. She eventually had to admit she had no PC which prompted its own questions. Down the rabbit hole, she admitted the danger involved in her owning one with surprising ease. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. took her word for it, but she could tell he both didn’t get it, as he was living technology and had clearly been inundated with it his whole life, and did, because he clearly gave her space on the topic without his version of an insult.
He wasn’t very good at smack talk and she almost wanted to teach him.
It was an odd feeling, but one she ignored.
Mikey was okay.
That was a start.
He wasn’t dead.
She was glad.
She had been right.
Mikey was busy.
Busy doing what?
Did she ask?
Did she pester him?
What were the limits?
She wanted a relationship where they worked together, but didn’t get in the clingy way of one another.
She liked space.
She had no idea what was appropriate.
Did he not ask her about work?
Was she not supposed to ask him about some random disappearances he would inevitably make?
Was this supposed to be space?
What was he running from?
She saw flash bang memories of how distressed he had gotten in their outing with Sunita.
The right move had been to trust her instinct.
That was foreboding.
She felt like she was on a precipice.
Her gut had gotten her locked away once.
Split her family up.
Made her crash and burn.
Despite how Mikey had shifted her opinion on good or bad, she had to stay vigilant.
Mikey’s face from her memories bothered her.
This distance bothered her.
She was upset.
Her phone was up by her ear and she listened to the dial tone as she rang him.
There was the thrum.
A beat of silence.
The same chime.
Over and over.
Until it turned to a flowery voicemail.
Kendra ended before the beep.
In the space between thoughts and just before her phone timed out, it rang on her end.
Mikey’s name appeared and she answered in one.
“Kendra! Kendra Byerly! The one and only! First of her name! Something, something other things you should say here!”
He sounded off.
“My girlfriend who I totally haven’t forgotten about!”
Wrong.
“It’s been-!”
There was a crash of pans.
“Ow! Why!? When did I!?”
There was a metallic clatter as things were shoved around.
“On the floor!? I have never put dishes on the floor before. What kind of disrespect for the kitchen is that?! C’mon Michelangelo, keep it together.”
There was another systemic banging that this time held the splash of water.
“Girlfriend! My girlfriend called me! Hi! Yes! Hello!”
“What’s wrong?” It was all she could say.
The line sat heavy with silence.
She squeezed her own.
“Nothing!” He chirped.
That was fake.
“Just been… busy! What about you?”
A complete farce.
“Seriously, how long has it been again? We just saw Sunita last week, right? Been busy? How’s work?”
The last question hit her in the gut. “Two weeks.”
“Huh?”
“We saw Sunita two weeks ago.”
This time she could hear how wide his eyes were.
He had no idea.
“Wow… Two weeks, huh?”
She frowned deeply.
He screamed.
She nearly dropped her phone as she jerked away.
“That’s a fire! Wow, okay! I know where-! And there’s bowls all over the ground!! What the fuck, chef?!”
There was an explosion of metal.
“Ah-ha!”
A juggle of the phone.
“Pull pin and-!”
A slick tinny sound.
“Aim and…! How am I supposed to read and operate this!?”
The rush of air that was distinctly a fire extinguisher.
She had put out enough fires for Jase and Jeremy to know that sound by heart.
It ran out in a sizzle on her phone.
“Wow, tapioca paste is flammable…” Mikey remarked as soon as the sounds died down.
She breathed one heady time.
“Yeah, so I’m clearly good. Did you need something or did I miss something?”
“Where are you? Whose kitchen?”
He couldn’t be home or else he wouldn’t be in the state he was in.
She scanned back.
Pots and pans on the floor.
He spoke of respected work spaces.
He was cooking.
That reasoned the splash she heard was a sink.
A fire extinguisher at the ready, one he did not know how to operate offhand, said the same.
He wasn’t home.
He was in some professional kitchen.
One he was familiar enough with, but not that much.
“Uh…” He drawled.
“Tell me and I’ll come.”
She heard him withdraw.
Push or don’t.
Was that nagging?
Was she pestering him?
Was this right?
She flinched.
She didn’t know.
This felt wrong.
Whatever was happening with Mikey was wrong.
She had that much sense.
S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. told her.
Alive and kicking.
Not where.
Only Mikey could tell her.
If she said it was up to him, she knew what he would choose.
The path of least resistance.
If she demanded he tell her, he would do the same.
Again, it was his easiest choice.
Given one.
She had to choose something else.
Something where he would make the decision for himself.
“Fuck this.” She stood.
She could hear him listen.
“Don’t-don’t be awkward with me!”
She could sense him search the air.
“I’m giving you permission. It’s us. Do… you want me there? Be honest.”
She heard him swallow.
She waited.
“No.”
It wasn’t a blow.
She felt herself resign.
So this was too much.
It was good to know.
“Okay.”
“I’m texting you the address.”
“What?! Mikey!”
“I don’t want you here. I don’t want you to see…” There was a rustle as he presumably moved. “This. Shit, Kendra, I messed this place up…”
“It was on fire… just a few minutes ago.”
“It looks like it…”
“Yeah, well…”
“But…!”
She looked toward the lip of her phone.
“But… I’m glad you called and I think… I think this is the first time I’ve thought about anything else in a day and so yeah… I may not want you here, but I need you here…”
Her chest tinkled with a bright feeling that she slapped down. “Don’t touch anything. Leave the crime scene. I want to see exactly what’s going on.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to clean this.”
His voice drifted and a text beeped against her cheek.
“I might do the dishes already overflowing in the sink though.”
“Fine.” She checked the location and distance.
“Oh! And use the employee entrance. It’s in the sketchy alley, but it’s all businesses. I think I saw Paulo do a tradesie out there on day one, but I haven’t been out since… When was the last time I ate…?”
“Mikey…” She warned low as she trudged toward the door.
“Yeah?”
“I’ll be there soon.”
“Thanks, Kendra. I’ll see you.”
-
He was right about the alley.
From the looks of it, she wouldn’t have gone down it, but now that she was there, she saw the burbles of its refuge. Like a burping pot on a simmer, the doors would crack like lids and there would be vivacious life. Little snaps of air or energy would break the seal as trash was thrown out. Kendra reviewed the stuffed bags and sweet smell of marinara and chutney as twin aromatic spices combining into something new and odd. She took that feeling to the door that geographically should have been attached to the address she was given. The employee entrance matched the number and she went to knock, but Mikey swung out as a messy version of himself.
“If it isn’t my girlfriend!”
“I don’t like how you keep saying it.” She entered.
“I won’t say it again!” He followed her and closed the door.
They wound through empty plastic racks on metal housings with wheels. “Don’t do that.”
“Yup!”
“I’m serious, Mikey!” She waited until they broke through the weird back workings near the door to turn on him, but was caught instead.
Mikey was an appetizer.
The kitchen was a real nightmare.
It was the sort of wreck you saw in comedy shows.
A cartoonish amount of dishware was spread on every surface. With various colored oozes coming out from pans and off counters alike, it was as if a food fight had occurred. Sparse gelatinized offal leaked and bled over any surface. Be it the ground, the three rows of stainless work benches, or the cooktops themselves, not even the ceiling was safe. Kendra hadn’t exactly been dressed up, but seeing the mess made her fear stepping forward in case she got an immovable stain from just existing here.
It was then that she landed on the fire damage. It had been contained, though black smokey char ran up the wall. What was more obvious was the melting white foam. It dripped bubbles of spent CO2 onto the ground and Kendra trailed greasy mats all the way back to Mikey.
He had shoes on for once.
Black utilitarian ones that reminded her of the non-slips she had to wear at the café. It led up what must have once been black trousers which were now stained anything but. All up to the sacrifice of an apron which had been overrun as its last defense for Mikey’s waste of a shirt. He looked just like every other short order cook coming off back to back 36 hour shifts who had to sleep for four and then go right back to it without a shower.
He was tired.
The bags under his eyes were clear.
He was also dripping.
She stared at his soaked forearms before she remembered the dishes.
The sink was roiling as one of the few sounds in the otherwise dead space.
She had a lot of questions and asked none of them.
“Don’t tell me. Just show me.”
She watched him turn over each word like he had to click through slides.
What surfaced was exhaustion and appreciation.
His head ducked down.
He moved around her.
She followed, giving him enough space that she wasn’t a shadow, but shadowing him.
He washed his hands and turned off the mechanism that was shaking the grey water in the sink. Lingering there, he stared until the opaque water settled before he darted off. Kendra watched as whatever this was took control of his body and he moved fluidly. He approached a work surface and a turn of his eyes had a similar sheen to them that the water did.
He was no longer able to see anything but what he was locked into doing.
He grabbed a clean bowl without needing to discern the quality.
He simply knew.
He took it with him to ingredient racks and selected tubs.
Clockwork returned him to the station where he used an arm to shove away ancient prep. From the look, the residuals were of the same design and objects clattered, but he didn’t hear them. A scale appeared and he wiped it down with a towel he had procured. It had, at some point, made it into the string tied around his waist. With a flick, he set his bowl atop the scale.
One press zeroed it out.
There ended up being three total flour-like substances added.
He was precise with his water and mixed with attention.
A white gloop formed, which he stared into as if it revealed the world’s secrets.
He moved when they whispered to him.
It was to a box of plastic wrap, which he tore off with inhuman accuracy and wrapped the bowl up in a safe layer. The mixture was dumped alongside what Kendra identified were at least six other batches. Mikey selected the farthest one from where the new one was added and it had separated as it apparently sat. He took great care in maintaining the clear watery layer to preserve another white sludge beneath. With a ladle and excessive slowness for the mutant known as Michelangelo, he skimmed at least half the water out without disturbing the flour-like mixture below.
He whipped the rest with a large spoon and salted it with a deft hand.
A turn step took him to a large cooking surface.
A sort of round-looking flattop that Kendra expected to find in a crêperie and not in this industrial space. Mikey checked the heat by holding the back of his hand over the pale circle. Focused or not, she thought it was bold of him to pre-heat the station only one over from the one that was still wet with fire retardant.
He clearly didn’t care and did one last flourish with his spoon before he poured a ladleful of batter down. With a push down of the bowl, he spun the mixture out into a thin layer, which congealed from the heat. She ventured close only then, when he stopped, and found that what she thought was a hot plate was actually some sort of tightly pulled micro-fine mesh. It wafted hot air without steamy tufts and, as she basked in it, Mikey seemed to hit some mental timer, where he reached off to the side.
He caught a dowel of a bamboo stick and used it to flick up the dough. He seemed to wick it up in a sticky pile before he set it aside and crumpled. She dropped with him before she realized and her knees landed in some oil as she hit the floor.
Mikey had tears in his eyes that he refused to let fall.
He looked like he was falling apart.
Shattering piece by piece.
She almost reached out, but he snapped back to form with a haunting, “Again.”
He had a whole bowl of batter and didn’t need to repeat the earlier steps.
He started making more thin disks.
Over and over.
Discarding them each time.
She watched them tear.
Stick too much to themselves.
Be too wet.
Get too dry.
A pile formed and she saw it wasn’t just that.
There were dozens of mounds of that white sludge.
All over.
Along with cooked meat as she now could tell.
The food waste appeared tremendous and not anything like what she expected from Mikey.
“Why can’t I do this!?” He suddenly snarled and spooked her.
He whacked his next steamed blob away instead of picking it up.
It hit a far wall with a sad slap before it peeled off onto the floor.
“Bánh cuốn!” He shouted.
She watched.
“Technically challenging!” He reeled out a new ladleful.
His spread was a mess and he shook.
“They said it would be hard. I knew it would be.”
He stared as the mixture puffed with trapped air and broke where the batter was unevenly distributed.
“I don’t listen. Not the turtle that did one hundred omurices in a row. I got that shit. I know technical! I’ve made tiered cakes that have made judges weep!”
She was sure he had.
“But this…” He used his stick to shove the curling bits of batter away. “I need to get this right.”
“Why?” She prompted in a ghost of a voice.
“‘Cause it’s been days!! How long is this going to keep up!?”
She ventured around him.
From a new angle he went through the same maneuver. “Wrappers.”
He stared as it cooked.
“The rice paper has to be cooked just right. You can’t have any mistakes. I can tell by the look when I mess up. It has to be thin, but not broken. You should be able to see shapes through it, but it’s not see-through. The flour hydrates for at least eight hours. It’s gotta be the right mix. You gotta mix it right. You need to put it down fast. You need to be decisive. It all has to be perfect or-!”
He stabbed through this noodle and held its soggy mess up to her.
She watched it hang with gravity before it fell to the floor. “-Or you mess it all up and you can’t make it again. You have to start over. The waiting. The watching. The cooking. The dishes! The filling!! The prep!!!”
He hesitated before he poured more.
His hand shook with those tears.
He refused them with puffed cheeks.
“But this is what I’ve been practicing for! I just have to keep doing it! I’ll get the hang of it! It just takes doing! It just takes doing!!!”
The batter leaked and he saved it with a spiral that was the same as his.
“Try again. Pay attention. Notice the signs. They’re right there, Mikey. Why can’t you see them? You haven’t seen them your whole life, but they were always there. Developing! A different form, but just like this! How many times have you eaten rice cakes?! Come ON! WHY CAN’T YOU DO THIS!?! YOU DO SO MUCH, DON’T YOU!?!”
This wasn’t about cooking.
Kendra recognized what he was actually talking about instantly.
His brothers.
The exercise in telling them no.
She hadn’t expected this.
Whatever light had been shed during his practice with Sunita had unveiled some scary insecurities.
Ones he channeled into his hobbies.
Something he could get his hands on.
She could picture it all.
The spiral.
Those too many emotions.
Him doomscrolling in his hammock.
Seeing the recipe.
Hearing its difficulty.
Knowing he was having just as hard a time and his years of cooking said that if he could jump into this, then all his training to say no would work just as well.
That’s all it took.
Wasn’t it?
No.
Not like this.
Not emotionally or physically.
Kendra didn’t know much about this dish, but it looked like something Mikey had never attempted before.
Whatever wrappers or noodles he had made before were probably hard in their own way.
This looked like a monster of a task.
All the variables he mentioned.
All while projecting onto it.
He shifted his insecurity into a task he was now failing at.
That he saw as an omen.
Until he got it right, he wouldn’t succeed in any version.
In noodles.
Or with his brothers.
The fate for the latter was worse than lost food.
It was his family seemingly on the line.
That was all bad and worse, but well and good in the sense that she understood.
It was plain as day.
What she did about it was a fucking blight.
The questioning was back.
The never ending sense of not knowing what was wrong or where the line was.
Again and again.
Over and over.
Falling into patterns.
Doing them repeatedly.
Beating the horse.
Long after it was dead.
Ruining her life.
Stubbornly hurting others.
Not knowing what to do because she spent every second of her life past the death of her mom only thinking about herself.
After getting hurt.
One.
Single.
Time.
Mikey helped her.
She was going to help him.
She liked him.
She-
She had enough.
Enough overthinking.
Mikey didn’t do that.
Actually, he was very much doing that right in front of her, but this was a stress response.
Normally, he didn’t.
He was usually in empty-headed bliss, but he also had an inherent sense.
He trusted his gut.
Through goodness and chaos.
He maneuvered both.
If he could do it, she could too.
She inhaled one time, but didn’t let it make excessive noise.
He was back to painting the pan and tossing the excess with his façade cracking faster and faster.
He had been at this for days.
Had he said the batter rested for eight hours?
She glanced at the six in the bay.
She didn’t like that math.
She returned to him.
The thoughts were there.
Overthinking.
If she was going to do it, it was going to be through code branches.
Debug it.
If the path branched wrong, she would isolate and correct.
She felt like placing a pawn in her next breath.
This wasn’t her first time on this side of someone’s breakdown, but it was her first where she wanted to be an active participant. Going off her gold standard and also the man she wanted to help, she sought her experience with Mikey first. He had mostly given her the space to process, but he also prodded. He was good at asking the right questions, but they were meant to be encouragement so the person he was talking to could reach a conclusion themselves.
Substitute person for patient and she knew why.
That’s how he was trained.
It only worked because he cared about his job.
Was that how he made money?
She shelved that for a second time.
Utilizing his psychological trick would shut the system down far too quickly. She wasn’t equipped with the necessary psych evaluation that took. While she could see the root cause for what was happening and could come to terms with why, there was an eye-rolling sense in her that she couldn’t cope with. She wasn’t the type to delicately handle. She much preferred to blurt out her exact feelings on matters and she knew for a fact that was what Mikey liked about her.
Anything less than authentic and Mikey would know in an instant what she was trying to do.
This was her boyfriend.
He would shut down.
He didn’t even want her here.
On some level, he had to know what was going on.
She needed to do something else.
There was leaving.
She could give him space.
That didn’t work.
Not for the thought exercise and not for her.
She was here for a reason.
That reason being he sounded stressed on the phone and she wanted to be here for him.
She was here for him.
Right next to him as he dispatched white gunk over and over like picking gum from a table that regenerated like mold.
This was his scab.
He wouldn’t let it heal if he kept this up.
Left to his own devices and, more pointedly, alone, he would just do this until he succeeded in some way.
He would eventually.
He was Michelangelo.
That was his name.
He would get this right and he would say no to his brothers, but he didn’t need to go about it like this.
Kendra overcorrected mentally for the opposite.
She could try to help him.
A better girlfriend would.
A prissier version of her might find an apron and dive in to stand beside her man. She would ask him what to do and, ever the sharer, he would be compelled to teach her. She would undoubtedly fumble because this wasn’t letting martabak bubble in a pan. She didn’t have finesse with the tools of trade necessary to know when to flick these noodles off their odd cooking vessel and she had even less knowledge of what came after. She may have loved to jump in on a broken project to set it back on course, but that was when she understood its needs.
This wasn’t codes or mechanics.
This was cooking.
A science of its own, but one she hadn’t had time to afford.
Plus, she saw nastier versions of him along that way.
Ones that weren’t so gracious.
An orange man who wouldn’t take so kindly to being asked to do something when he already was so stressed about exactly that.
She saw him snap.
Lash out as he became even more overwhelmed.
One more thing tossed on his immense load.
He had done it before.
To her.
Because of her.
To others.
He wasn’t some angel.
His early graffiti came to mind.
He was such a bastard.
Knowing full well all his idiosyncrasies, owning them, and denying them all at the same time.
She really did like him.
He was effortless.
He just knew.
Even when he didn’t.
Intuition.
Recoil hit her before understanding did.
It was there.
It had been there.
All along.
The answer.
Even before he started to melt down.
She worked with him.
They worked together.
It was easy.
A push and pull.
Their dance in the lounge.
Skateboarding together.
Getting food from one too many places.
How conversation sped up between them.
Sunita had said something like that.
She focused on Mikey.
He did the same to her.
Only she gave him direction when his went all over and he pulled hers from out of her own ass.
She reached out.
Physically.
She watched it happen.
No imagined scenario.
She didn’t need to think about this.
She knew.
She just needed to listen.
She adjusted her hand as if docking it in a delicate maneuver.
She knew exactly how.
Mikey would move away in a moment as he dumped the next batch of failed noodles.
He would whisk up his batter.
Pour and spin a new one then wait.
That was her window.
He did exactly as she expected and that’s when she completed her move.
She touched him.
Right on his bare forearm to a spot where there wasn’t sticky crap.
It startled all of him.
His eyes were wild.
He was ravenous and guarded of the empty carcass he had and ready to feed on what could be.
She refused to say a thing.
She didn’t even give him her attention.
She focused on her own.
On her hand on his arm and all it said.
I’m here.
If you need me.
If not.
I understand.
But, I am.
I’m here and I always will be.
She let go.
Didn’t necessarily retreat, but went back to her static position at his side.
The only sound was the puffs of air from the steamer heating the dough.
She bided time.
The batter was about half used.
She tried to calculate how much a ladleful actually was.
She could use that to see how much he had left.
There had to be some kind of time table with all his batches in different stages of preparation.
Why?
She wondered.
Three flours was a lot.
Maybe they needed time to mix.
The batter separated as well.
That was a strange reaction that she wasn’t quite sure about.
Density was usually something observed in oil and not flour.
She heard a shudder before she saw it.
She finally looked at Mikey.
He was crying.
Fat tears rolled down his face.
Her heart clenched and she knew it showed on her expression.
He reached up to scrub his eyes, but found he was dirty and that seemed to be the first time he noticed.
He looked at her again through what was sure to be blurry vision. “I’ve been at this for four days straight…”
“Looks like it…” Her voice similarly waned in response.
“I’m…”
She listened.
“I’m tired…” His arm dropped.
Her laundry was going to hate this later.
She hugged him.
He completely collapsed into her.
All his weight, which she bit down on a few curses to hold up.
“I just thought if I could do this easily-!”
She shook her head against his.
“I know… I know I know!! I know you know I know!!!”
“I know!” She quaked.
“I missed you.” He finally squeezed.
He got a peep out of her.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You can.” She said it before pulling away to look him in the eye. “I know you can.”
“You…” His pupils flashed around her face.
She let him take her in.
“You think so?”
“I’ve known. I don’t know what the hell this is, but I know you can do it… chef.”
He couldn’t really light up.
He was a dim, overworked bulb.
There was also a shimmer there.
He just needed rest to gap the tweaks.
“This one for sure!” He shoved up his sleeve and went to spoon out batter.
It wasn’t.
It wasn’t the next ten.
It wasn’t even this bowl.
It was hours later.
Deep into the night.
Long after they had broken to start cleaning together.
After the flour war that accidentally broke out, but before she got some noodles dropped on her head where they had been stuck to the ceiling for two days. The stainless steel of the work benches was visible by then. There was no more cookware, let alone a speck of dirt, on the floors. There was only a comically balanced drying rack and the scent of pork in the air when Mikey wasn’t looking and spiraled out some batter that he flicked over onto a plate before he realized that this, this was the one.
The fresh filling was folded up inside and there was a fish stock of some kind of fermented caliber brought in for dipping before a bite was taken.
Only then did he accept what he could do.
(Check out behind the scenes for this fic and more on my Patreon. You can follow me there, here, or the tag #AENEMfic for updates)
Autumn is unseasonably hot where I am, but my betas @tmntxthings and @unrestrainedhotsoup are leafing cool!
To answer “fandom/s I write for” that would be Rottmnt, tmnt 2k12, and (a good long while ago) The Hobbit
B-I-N-G-OOOOO!!!! twice 🥰 this was fun!!
Does anyone remember an app called Polyvore? It got bought by this clothing company that completely transformed the app but before that happened they had this huge roleplay community 😪 good times!
Now @tmntxthings requested that I sonically bathe in No One Noticed by The Marias and write about whatever I came up with, but she also told me to listen to it earlier this week and said it reminded her of Kendra so I was totally swayed! 😤
Totally takes place in the AENEM universe 🤭 sorry not sorry 💞
From now until the poll closes, if you can prove to me that you voted Hassan/Mikey in this poll then I will write any short 100-400 word request like below or draw you a doodle of your choosing!
Kendra laid on her mattress with her cheek smashed into her month old sheets. There was debris of crumbs that sometimes ghosted of her skin, but she had slept in far worse. it was better than scratchy prison blankets, but that wasn't what was making her skin crawl.
She was staring at her text chat with Mikey.
His last message was dated six days ago.
Her responses had never been super prompt, but she had gotten back to him within a few minutes that day.
It was innocuous.
He asked if she would watch a video.
She asked him why he hadn't sent the link.
Then nothing.
She left her screen on as she rolled over.
Her stupid stained ceiling stared back at her.
What was his problem?
For months he had been nothing but interested.
He was obsessed with anything.
Or maybe she just told herself that.
Maybe she had lost her mind.
Was she really laying her missing him of all people?
Why?
There was no reason.
He had just crashed into her life and looked at her like she was the only person in the world.
Her cheeks were hot because her pillow was substantial.
Blood was pooling.
She rolled the other way from her phone so they would cool.
The shift rolled within folds of her sheets and revealed those dead skin particles.
What was shed and schlep off.
The pieces that easily fell away with time.
Isn't that what they had done?
He'd gotten his fill.
He'd held her and that was it.
Those bits of his interest wilted and were shed like anything else.
It wasn't like she'd been excited to see him.
She hadn't gone out of her way.
It had been a plan.
Pretend to chase him.
Get close enough to gain access to her home.
It was never about him.
It was about his connection.
Like that scent of wooden paintbrushes and a hint of vanilla that always clung to him.
She fought her pillow by punching it straight off the bed.
She had lost it.
Thinking about this.
Thinking about him.
The way he held her.
The way he both paid attention and didn't.
He knew arm's length like no one else.
Only him.
That truth collapsed her chest and she had to sit up.
Her room was dark as it had been for hours.
Her eyes had adjusted just enough that she saw the shapes.
The end of her bed.
The rack for her clean clothes.
A pile for the dirty.
Her shitty router in one corner.
Empty.
That was the feeling.
Emptiness and a hollow that she hadn't know before.
She pushed against his ribs to try to keep them together.
It had never been a problem before.
She had spent her life like this.
All the years that shaped her memory.
She went at this life alone.
She wasn't going to let some orange idiot slip between the cracks of that.
Not when he could leave without a trace.
Her eyes widened.
In all her time trying to make enough of a connection that she could get what she wanted from him, she never realized how far he had kept himself from her.
He barely talked about his family.
She didn't know where he lived.
She had his number and nothing else.
In an instant, everything she wished that wasn't true came to fruition.
He'd made her aware of her loneliness and then left her to stew in it.
It had been so easy for him.
She couldn't be here anymore.
Not when he knew where it was.
She could get away.
She could start again.
it wouldn't be the first time.
It was with her last shreds of control that she found her old purple stain jacket and put it on, one arm at a time.
It fit.
She looked right at her door, not back, and moved to grab the knob.
It opened to moonlight and the shape of a man similarly reaching out.
It took her tired eyes time to adjust.
To Mikey and his casts.
One on his leg and one on his arm.
The bandages around his head.
They way he broke out into a smile.
"You heading out?" He asked almost timid.
He never was.
"It's been... It's been awhile..." He huffed with some effort.
Injured.
"My phone kind of..." He gestured over himself with the wrapped arm in a sling and winced for it.
He noticed.
"I've been trying to see you, but I was only cleared for tomorrow, well, today, and it's midnight so... today!"
She surged forward with only the intention to take.
Into his one good arm.
To hold.
To console.
She guessed she was sort of over waiting.
That was why she had been about to leave and he squeezed her in place because he knew.
I like a tag game where I can choose to start it again and not just reblog an enormous thread. I always feel bad when it's long. Thanks @bewbberrytarts for the tag
Music Game!
Rules: shuffle your 'on repeat' playlist and post the first 10 songs, then tag 10 friends to do the same
CVNT by Sophie Hunter
Proud Mary by Creedence Clearwater Revival
two by bbno$
Over & Over by Rio Romeo
Messy by Lola Young
drinks or coffee by ROSÉ
Go by The Black Keys
Abbey by Mitski
Night Shift by Lucy Dacus
Blush by Wolf Alice
Wait don't you have to have Spotify for this...? I don't know who has Spotify... I guess if you have it @unknownfanartist @tmntxthings @mermmarie
author’s notes: something short & sweet for the new year, also I’d like to express my gratitude this year to all my mutuals, to my love of tmnt, it has brought me here and I thoroughly enjoy the art & fics you all share, cheers to another year full of turtle lovin’
warnings: fluff, unedited, drabble (super short), aged-up characters, new years theme
—————————————————————————
It was always crowded this time of year at Times Square. But the sheer amount of people flocking the streets always put Leo on edge. As a teenager this was a prime moment to use to his advantage. Get lost in the crowd. People aren’t paying attention to the strangers around them. Their eyes are focused on the screen. On the count down. On the huge sphere in the sky.
But he had grown a lot since then. Even a good disguise couldn’t cover up the fact that he was over six feet tall. Now that, would draw eyes no matter where he went. So he kept to his territory, the rooftops, the many perches one could find themselves on with the multitude of advertisements.
It was always interesting to see humans this far up. But tonight was special. They’d thrown confetti, and it would dance through the wind. Donnie used to stick up his snout, calling it trash, a waste. It seemed to be at least a million pieces of colorful paper. Litter to Dee, but to Leo, it was different.
He could see why people made their way to this spot. It was a sight to behold. It encapsulated the year, highlighted the moment for the one to come. He never missed New Years in New York. No matter how many times he’d seen the ball drop before. Sometimes the wind would carry the confetti so high that he could reach it. When he was feeling really sentimental he stuffed his pockets with a few coordinated colors that surely someone could guess.
When the count down started, he watched as the humans got ready. They surrounded Time Square on rooftops, with boxes full of confetti, bundled up for the cold and ready to make their first tosses.
Five! Four! Three! Two! One!!
Cheers erupted and fireworks lit the sky. That was signal enough for the workers to start, throwing handfuls of confetti. It rained down onto the crowd. Couples were kissing. Friends and family were hugging. Everything was just, perfect.
“Do you wanna throw some?”
The voice startled his revelry. He met eyes that sparkled, with a hand outstretched bursting with color. He waited. You did too.
He tilted his head. So did you. Then he realized this wasn’t some dream and you were real, alive, talking to him, all the way up in his territory asking if he wanted to partake in the tradition. In littering he guessed Donnie would snark. But Leo wanted to. So he dropped down from his spot, landing next to you.
You didn’t flinch. You waited for his palm to open, and dumped the paper in his hand. Wisps escaped from the exchange but Leo was quick to toss and you were ready with more to give. You smiled. And so did he. He wondered absentmindedly if you knew him? Had he saved you before? New York knew of their vigilante heroes whether they publicly supported them or not.
You took in his appearance as if he was a long time friend. Your presence was one that brought Leo comfort. And he went through the entire box without pausing. When that was over he thought you’d maybe thank him, or bid him farewell, but instead you hopped up on the edge of the rooftop. Instincts gave way and Leo’s hand was already reaching out to catch you if you slipped. But you sat down, legs dangling off the edge as of the drop wouldn’t be one to kill you.
You then patted the spot next to you for him to join. To watch the flurries of color float through the air and make their way down. He sat next to you. You told him about your year, the highs, the lows. You asked about his. You talked about what you hoped this new year would bring, your goals, the future. You asked about his plans.
He smiled, because he always had many of those. It was effortless with you, and that was strange in itself. To be sitting here with a stranger, a human, talking as if he was just another person. And maybe he was. Maybe in this moment. It was nice. You handed him a blue piece of confetti, and he pocketed it.
He had never heard the words from you before. Nothing ever so vulnerable. Never so direct. And technically he couldn’t say that he actually heard the words from your lips, but he could imagine it from the text.
i’d really like it if you came over
He read it over and over. Words went unsaid. But he knew what you meant. You missed him. His heart thudded. It took seconds for him to portal your way. Someone regular, someone ordinary would have to get on a plane. But lucky for you…for him.. he could do this instead. His knuckles drummed against your bedroom door which was already slightly ajar.
It was dark inside, save for the dim light that shined from your phone. Your face glowing as those pretty eyes of yours met his. A soft smile lighting up your face as you tossed the phone aside and your arms opened. He dropped the swords in a clatter to the floor. He was in your bed, in your arms.
Why wasn’t it always this easy? All you had to do was call him, text him, and sure, he wasn’t always twiddling his thumbs on his phone. Yeah he could get busy with life and saving the city. Patrolling or sparring, even just ignoring the world and going off grid could be considered a sort of obstacle. Something that didn’t exactly make things easy.
Your hands wrapped around him. One going up, petting the back of his head, down to his shell where you gave little scratches. He couldn’t help the noise that steadily grew in the back of his throat. He could forget about everything else. He didn’t need to think so hard. His own hands went down, to your sides, not letting go.
He didn’t feel so lonely now. But for Leo, it was easy to not only come, but go. After you talked about your day, all the trivial things that had happened. After you caught up with what he had been doing with his time since so much had passed between the last visit. Neither of you noticed that when you were with one another. It was as if time became nuisance. You were still the same. And so was he.
After you drifted off to sleep. Once your breathing was even and deep, he pulled himself away. Picked up his swords, and left without a trace.
Attempted Execute of Non-Executable Memory - Chapter 7
RotTMNT Michelangelo x Kendra
I have always been in awe of @pegibruno 's art and it was such an honor to gave them do the titular chapter art for this series!
Rated: Teen and Up Audiences
Warnings/Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Revenge, Falling In Love, Love, Romance, Dating, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Love Confessions, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), Step-Parents, Neglect, First Kiss, First Generation Immigrant Kids, Acculturation, Loss/Removal of Cultural Identity, Incarceration, Prison Time, I flesh Out Kendra’s Character, Character Exploration, Character Study, I Give Kendra a Backstory
Synopsis: After hitting the lowest of lows, Kendra has carved out a simple life for herself. She’s content enough to live this way until opportunity walks through her place of employment in the form of an orange turtle mutant. She just needs to get close enough to him to plant a virus in his infuriating brother’s servers, but will she be infected long the way?
Also available on Ao3
First 🧡 Previous
“I’m going to your apartment!” Mikey danced through what was very much not her front door and continued to sing. “I’m going to your apartment!”
“Not if you keep that up.” Kendra breezed by him into the store.
Mikey lowered the volume, but continued to sing the phrase.
She picked up and stuck him with a basket.
He took it like a prop and she mistakenly made eye contact with the shop’s attendant.
The cashier at the desk looked up against her long lashes. “Been wondering when you’d be back.”
“Shut up.” Kendra strode down the familiar aisles to the one she needed.
The woman’s laughter chased her.
Mikey was first caught looking back at the employee and then at all the colorful packaging. “She seems nice.”
“Oh, yeah. So nice.” Kendra growled out. “So easy to upkeep a rainbow Mohawk when your uncle owns the store and you get shit for free!!”
Mikey looked up the fluorescent lights and waited to see if the lob would land.
There was obvious grumbling from across the store.
“Always someone.” Kendra glared at the shelves of dye.
She shouldn’t be here yet.
She needed to get everything else first. “This way.”
“You do get judged a lot.” Mikey followed.
“Thanks.” She retorted bitterly as she got to the developers.
She tossed a bottle into the basket.
“Like more than me.” He went on.
“That was code for ‘knock it off.’ I’m not in the mood.” She hissed as she passed him.
“I wonder why.” He went on regardless.
She ignored him and went over a mental tally of what she had at home. Most of her stuff had definitely expired which had prompted this impromptu trip to the beauty shop she frequented. Her mixing bowl and brushes were still usable. She had a plethora of ratty towels and all the clips necessary. She could get by on what bleaching products she had so it was just developer and hair dye that was missing.
He caught her eye and turned to her openly. “Like your vibe is not inviting it, so why does it happen?”
“Don’t know. Always has.” She stunted out as he continued to be endlessly stubborn.
“Is it the hair?” He wondered.
“Mikey.” She tried to put a finality in her tone.
“I know. I hear ya. I just…” He shook his head.
“Look, I don’t know and you sure as hell don’t. If I find out, maybe I’ll tell you.”
He softened a little. “I’ll take it.”
“You sure you can spot check this?” She let her doubts leak to cover up his gooey expression.
“Yup! Been there, done that on my own! Nearly burned all the hair off of my head.” He tossed his locks.
They were well maintained to her eye.
He came up into a salute. “You were clear: I’m here to watch and nothing else. I will point and maybe help out only if there’s a spot you can’t reach.”
“Easy, solider.” She pushed his plastron gently.
“Sir, yes, sir!” He tossed his arm out in an act, but smacked a shelf.
He caught all the items before they hit the floor and juggled them in his arms as he failed to get them back to their places.
She stepped in to help him. “You’re a mess. I should have asked someone else.”
She had no one else.
She hadn’t had anyone else in years.
She could have done it alone, but there had been mistakes.
Spots.
This was the first time in a long while that she could do this and save money by doing it herself. It wasn’t like her family friends supported her color. She’d been shelling out way too much on doing this at a salon. It always felt like an annoying waste when she knew how. She’d been doing it since she had virgin hair.
That time she permanently stained Deborah Ricci’s tacky yellow bathtub.
The woman had been forced to redesign her whole gaudy color scheme.
Jase had spotted her back then until she had gotten Jeremy into it. They had dying parties. There was hair management. They used to mask on weekends and watch movies. They weren’t good times; they were simply times.
Of the past.
Kendra moved to her section of purples.
Her exact shade wasn’t in stock, so she evaluated for the next closest.
She didn’t care as long as it pretty much read what she wanted it to.
She was here.
She was saving money.
Mikey was useful because he could catch those annoying spots.
She had cleaned up her apartment for this.
One payment for another.
The stupid balancing act.
“You know art or whatever, right?” Kendra asked without looking.
His voice closed in. “Yup! That was my other credential.”
“Which do you think between these? I like this brand.” She held up two similar shades of purple for him.
He hummed loudly and clearly was juggling two boxes of his own.
One orange.
One cyan.
She stared a little too obviously at one box. “What are those?”
“Huh?” He looked like he had forgotten he was holding anything.
He laughed.
He held the orange up beside his face. “What do you think? This is so my color, right?”
His lashes fluttered.
He squished closer to the box that matched his mask.
“Yeah, sure.” She stepped forward with the purple boxes out like a plea. “What’s that one?”
Her eyes hadn’t moved.
Mikey followed her gaze and lit up.
“Oh, this one’s yours!” He offered it.
“No.” Her eyes followed. “It’s not.”
He stared. “Uh… Yeah, it is.”
“No.” She shook the boxes with purple hair dye. “This is. I’m asking you which one.”
“Oh, yeah. I was thinking about that.” He closed the gap.
The cyan box got closer.
“Of those two, the one on the left. Er, your right. I always mix that up.”
She hadn’t looked away.
“But I was thinking… Are you sure this isn’t your color?” The cyan dye shifted in his hold.
“What are you talking about?” She spat.
He didn’t flinch. “You’re wearing it right now.”
She didn’t have to look.
There was her signature cyan lipstick.
There was a cyan splash across her otherwise drab hoodie.
She had thrown it on just for the sake of going out.
Something to cover up her bleached and stained top that she wore when she did her hair.
That didn’t mean anything.
“It’s not.” She told him with a voice that could cut glass.
Again, he was somehow immune to the barbs. “I’m gonna be straight up and you can get as mad as you want.”
Her gaze finally moved to his face.
“Do you even like purple?”
Her lips parted and it sounded like a crash to her ears.
He was impudent.
He should be scrubbed from the Earth.
How had she let this happen?
She let a man in that would say something like that to her face.
She had let him get close enough.
For what?
He knew nothing.
They were kindred spirits.
They had nothing in common.
He was a fool.
A jester.
She had kept him in her court because she found him entertaining.
She knew the real reason for fools.
Control the masses.
You allowed one wretch within your means to make fun of you. It gave the others the illusion of freedom to do the same. They could laugh along, but that was it. The royalty still ruled with an iron fist. The jokes kept them passive. It made them think they could entertain their complaints. In reality, they were offed one by one.
Heads rolling.
That was what Kendra sought.
Totalitarian rule.
She didn’t need to keep a fool.
She was in no position.
She would get another when the time came.
She had one who was assigned to her since matrimony.
Jase looked better in bells than he ever did in anything else.
“Obviously.”
He continued on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Cause like I get your old group had the name in it, but that was because it was your school mascot and it’s not even just what you’re wearing right now. I don’t think you own much purple. I mean I haven’t seen your house yet, but, you have, what? No purple clothes that I’ve ever seen.”
She couldn’t speak for fear his stupidity would make her stutter.
“Or food! Not that… there’s a lot of turquoise or purple foods, but…” His brow creased with his mask. “That’s a bad comparison. What else have we done?”
She was still holding those purple dye boxes.
“It doesn’t matter!”
Like a buffoon.
“It just seems like-”
She was the clown.
He was still talking.
It was makeup, she thought then.
Not like her lipstick, but everything.
Everything she put on was a costume.
It was her power.
It was pretension personified.
What else could she do?
She’d never been the tallest.
She’d never been the fastest.
She’d been the smartest.
She was the first amongst anyone to realize a brand.
She then crafted her own bit by bit.
From tomboy to trendsetter, she had tried out a series of hats in a store until a random person walking by complimented her beret. It was a comment along with some song she hadn’t been particularly impressed by, but she would own it. They would love her; she would make them.
Her hair came later.
After the jacket design.
After Jase.
After Debroah Ricci.
The bathroom redesign.
The internal version of herself smirked, but it felt empty. The void of her mind was aflame, but the fire wasn’t purple. Her avatar, a digital one as that made the most sense, was purple lighting. It struck the wasteland and filled it with teal flames.
It was wrong, she screamed without a mouth.
That was not her color.
Her color was-
Why had she chosen purple?
The Purple Dragons.
She was the leader.
She had built her brand on that stake.
A tech club that won awards where there hadn’t been anything prior to her.
She’d clawed up with her nails. The ones she couldn’t paint because any would be ruined by all the typing. Her hair was fair game. From a black flag, she rose the sails of her turning tides. She chose the most electric color that was also the cheapest. The tub had been ruined with her first round of bleach. She fried her follicles, but what arose was her.
Purple.
When people saw her they thought of that.
Purple Dragon.
She hadn’t been one in years.
A hacker.
That violated her parole.
A convict.
Patently true, but not one she filed beside her name.
Purple.
She was purple.
She was.
She had to be.
Had she ever changed her lipstick?
That predated it all.
It was a faraway memory, but it struck down her avatar.
Right into the cyan flames.
A clip started of her going through her mom’s makeup and getting scolded. If she was so interested then she should get her own products to ruin. She was taken on a transformation trip all her own and it was there that she picked the first audacious color that caught her eye.
Her mom grimaced even though she still made the purchase. That neon swatch heralded in years of evolution. It was no longer some swatch that rubbed off her lips after a few minutes of wear. It was eventually upgraded to a custom formula made at a lipstick lab. She no longer had to ask; a refill was her automatic Christmas present every year.
It grew beyond her lips.
She chose teal sneakers for a new school year. There was once a seafoam bedspread donning her mattress that had since been tossed out. Her entire decor centered around fringed frames and binders in aquamarine.
When had she ever chosen purple?
She picked it because it said something.
It was supposed to say her name.
Had it?
Did it?
When had it not?
Cyan muddied her purple avatar.
The flames burned through the exterior.
Revealing what lay beneath.
Something chosen for the sake of it.
No deeper meaning.
Because it had caught her eye.
She liked it.
She liked the way it sat on her skin.
She had tried other lipsticks, but they weren’t as satisfying.
She liked to be electric.
Bright.
The CYMK pressed for print.
Layered colors.
A true leader and a purest form.
When she turned back a tear was sliding down her cheek and Mikey was still talking.
He was downright babbling.
She looked at him and saw he had only a box of purple in his hands now.
“I dug through the stock and compared and this one isn’t listed! This is it though, right? This is your current color? I’m so sure it is. I was going to ask the cashier, but yeah, we all know that wasn’t about to happen. Like I need her help. I have an eye for color and this is it. I’m sure. I’m like 98% sure, but I can make up the other two. You know we can mix color? I know how to blend! I’ve watched hundreds of hours of those palette matching videos. I love the way they smear, but I hate the sound! I just watch them on mute, but that’s not important. What’s important is I was talking out of my ass and I’m sorry, but I got the color, didn’t I…!?”
She looked at the box.
Her preferred brand and, damn him, her exact color.
Or what was.
Maybe it was time to move on.
“Where is it?” She spoke thickly through her tight throat.
“Where’s what?” He blinked wide at her.
“The other one… You said teal. It’s cyan.”
“The box said teal.”
A bubble of anger rose and popped in a way that made her stomach feel fizzy. “Where is it!?”
He fumbled the purple box like a volleyball and barely caught it.
In a full rotation of his body, he expertly swapped it out for the cyan dye and presented it to her.
“You don’t have to-”
“Stop.” She took it from him and stared at the shade.
It was a little too blue based on the art, but her thumb on the box paired well enough with it.
“If this looks bad, you’re paying for the fix.”
“Done.” He spoke stunned.
She glanced at the purple.
She watched it go.
Back on the shelf where it no longer had a tag.
The last of its kind.
“Let’s go.” She turned. “You got the basket?”
“Yup!” He grabbed it because he had actually set it down and followed her to the counter.
“This.” Kendra slammed the dye down in front of the employee. “And that.”
She stepped to the side in perfect time so Mikey could make some noise putting the basket down. “Much appreciated!”
Kendra stared at the little one-off products around the register like candy.
“That’s new.” The employee spoke as she rang her up.
“Is it though?” Mikey spoke in her stead.
“Uh, yeah. Who are you, by the way? Buy-or-leave doesn’t have friends.” The employee pointed at Mikey with a bottle of developer.
“Aw cute.” Mikey chirped. “Your nicknaming skills are on par with your color knowledge.”
“Excuse me?!”
Kendra’s head whipped around.
“I mean either you or your stylist is spinning the color wheel, but it’s crazy someone shoved violet in-between red and yellow. It’s ROYGBIV and I know my orange. Don’t they teach that in like, kindergarten?”
The last item passed the scanner and the employee dove under the counter.
Mikey covertly swiped the items into the bag.
The employee popped up with a mirror in hand and was desperately rotating her head to get a glimpse of her mohawk.
Mikey seemed to wait for a particular move before he slammed a few buttons on the computer screen and the pay now option popped up. Kendra patted down for her wallet, but Mikey beat her to that too. He swiped his card for the chip and then confirmed the purchase with another stretch of his arm across the counter.
“What the fuck!?” The employee hissed at her reflection.
There was a ding of a completed transaction and her attention shifted.
“Hey!”
Kendra caught the bag and ran.
“Put orange in its place next time!” Mikey hollered as he chased her.
The employee continued to yell after them until they got several blocks away.
There Mikey puffed with laughter which interfered with his breathing.
“What was that!?” She elbowed him as they slowed to a regular walking pace.
“I noticed it the second I saw her! Why’d she do the colors like that?” He continued to chuckle. “So off.”
“What if I can’t go back!?”
“I mean maybe I can’t go back, but why wouldn’t you?” He addressed her openly.
“She’s pissed at both of us! I brought you there!”
“Find somewhere else? She sucks.”
“It’s closest to my apartment!”
“Eh…!” He strung out the syllable before a light bulb went off. “I get to go to your apartment!”
She made a move like she was going to shove him into traffic and he readied himself. She didn’t do it, as much as she wanted. Instead, she bumped into him and stayed close. With her head down, heart beat anxiously out of her ears. The teal hair dye felt heavy in the box.
Mikey adjusted ever so slightly after the wave of surprise had passed and offered his arm.She pinched his skin for the sake of it. He clearly squirmed, but didn’t retreat. For that, she slunk her arm through his. They walked in silence that she thanked him for with her prolonged contact until he slowed.
She checked out and found he had taken them as far as he could before he didn’t know where her apartment proper was. She pulled on him gently before getting her arm free and pointing. She caught his hand in the process and he allowed himself to be led with a smile. Only the bag of products crinkled as she dodged into an alley and then turned down a narrower one. It was out into a back plaza where she hooked a fire escape.
It came down with its usual rusty creak and she made the perilous journey up it as she had many times before. She could feel Mikey oozing unsaid questions behind her, but he kept his trap shut. She knew it was strange that this was the only way to access her apartment, but it was because of this and the building’s absent owner that she was able to afford this much.
They turned a corner and there was her door.
She could hear Mikey’s jaw drop at the sight of a door on a fire escape.
She dug out a key and unlocked it. “Wait til you're inside.”
He nodded furiously and she opened the door for him.
“Don’t say shit.”
He checked with her before he ducked in through her threshold. She followed and nabbed the bag from where he was stuck. The door closed behind them and she left it for now. She would come back and lock it, but first she went to drop off the items in the bathroom. When she returned Mikey was still staring at her studio apartment and the mattress on the floor that had been messily made.
“How are you always so quiet and so loud?” She complained as she did up three locks.
“I don’t have a bed frame either.” He blurted out.
She looked up from the last lock and turned to him.
“I sleep in a hammock.”
“What? Like outside?” Her face screwed up in confusion.
“What?! No!” He seemed to think better. “Well…?”
“You’re still in the sewer with the rest of them?” She tossed the question as she gestured for him to follow.
It was only a few steps to her tiny bathroom where they clearly both weren’t going to fit. “Not the sewer exactly. You can get there from the sewer, but it’s an old subway depot.”
“Huh.”
“Can I say what I’m most surprised about?” He blurted out suddenly.
She rolled her eyes.
She had heard it all before.
She had only had a few visitors, but it was always the same.
No one could believe she lived like this.
“Sure.” She stunted out. “I’m stuck with you for the rest of the afternoon so keep that in mind.”
She unearthed a color bowl and brush along with a silver shampoo she hadn’t remembered she had.
She was reading the label when Mikey finally spoke up.
“There’s no electronics. No TV. You don’t even have an alarm clock.”
She looked up in her vision without moving her head.
Had someone mentioned that?
She couldn’t recall.
Maybe about her lack of a computer.
“Call it rustic.” She decided.
Mikey snorted.
“What?” She glared at him in the mirror as she used the sink below it as a platform to mix the bleach powder she had with the developer she had just purchased.
“Rustic is for cabins.”
“Uh huh.”
“You wouldn’t be caught dead in a cabin.”
“You don’t know.”
“You like hiking?”
“No.”
“Do you like outdoors?”
“Not really.”
“Bugs?”
“Turn around.”
Mikey spun and saw a cockroach crawling up the wall that she had spied in the mirror.
He screeched, recoiled, and flung a fireball at it that expertly scorched the thing without burning her wall.
She turned her head to view him where she was stirring. “And here I pegged you as an advocate for bug lives.”
“Not cockroaches. Nah!” He shuddered.
“My roommates that don’t pay rent.” It was a joke that amused her and she finished up mixing her first bowl. “I’m gonna start with the back. There’s a computer chair propping up my clothes rack and a stool with my phone cord wrapped around it. Grab those.”
He went to search for the necessary items as she yanked her hoodie off.
She left it on her bed and Mikey returned with the chairs.
“Take your pick.” She waved him off. “Turn to the wall for a second.”
He set the chairs down and dutifully did as he was told.
She dropped her leggings in one fell swoop and snatched up a pair of athletic shorts that had fallen off the side of her bed. She threw them on as they were disposable if they got product droplets on them. When she was clothed again, she smugly summoned Mikey and sauntered over to show off that they had a strip lining of purple. He took his assessment fast and returned her gaze with an equally smug look that said he knew that they were expendable for the process. She turned her nose up at him and went to her vanity to section her hair off.
He set the computer chair ready for her like a throne and hopped up on the stool, which teetered beneath him.
She scooped up a blob on her brush and started painting bleach on. “What are you, anyway? Eagle Scout?”
“Todd Scout.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“Nature’s not really my thing either.”
She eyed him in the glass.
“Come on, admit it.”
“Fine. It’s boring.”
“It’s pretty.”
“I guess.”
“The trees. Being able to breathe. The water.”
“The booming quiet. The bugs. The lack of general humanity.”
“I thought you were going to say AC.”
“I don’t even have AC.” She met her own eye.
Mikey had to turn. “We can find you one of those window ones. I saw some good deals on a resale site.”
“’We?’”
“Yeah. I’ll show you the marketplace I use. I’ve got a good eye.”
That wasn’t her point, but she let it slide. “Purple’s a bitch to strip. This’ll take a while so bring it up.”
Mikey bobbed with laughter that shook his stool.
“What?”
He flapped a hand at her.
“Mikey.”
“Phrasing!” He quacked.
“It’s true.”
“I believe you.” He puffed with giggles.
“You’re thinking of your idiot brother.” She finally started painting bleach into her hair.
“I am.” He admitted.
“Gross. Y’all are too close.”
Mikey grunted as he popped upright. “Hey! Don’t be nasty!”
“Me?” She gave him an exaggerated look.
“Yes! I was thinking about how hard it is to get him to take off his battle shell sometimes!”
For a split honest second, Kendra couldn’t help but agree.
A lifetime ago when they had stolen said objects, the lot of them had waited hours for him to finally deactivate all three so they could remote in.
Before that he had endlessly used one or all of them in a rotation.
It was only for a moment and she was back.
“Sure…” She dragged out the word as a tease.
Mikey wriggled with irritation. “That bleach is boiling your brains!”
“It’s going to, with the amount I’ll need. How’s the coverage?”
“Get…” Mikey turned his head and demonstrated with a point to his own. “Here, above the bottom on the right.”
She nodded and started to paint with her eye on him.
He nodded appropriately and she coated the strands. “Good job though.”
“I’ve done this before.”
“No, talking about Donnie. I appreciate it.”
“It was like five seconds.”
“Five seconds more than before; I love my family.”
She continued to apply bleach. “Sorry your favorite brother got in my way.”
“He’s not my favorite.” He responded immediately.
That gave Kendra a quick pause.
“Gotta be second.”
“You rank them.”
“Yup.”
She chuffed. “Now that doesn’t sound like you. I can hear your whiny voice. ‘I love all my brothers equally.’”
“I do!”
She didn’t bother giving him a look; he surely felt it.
“It’s just that… sometimes they get on my nerves and I put them in an order that changes based on my mood which is a nice little dose of revenge because they totally lose it when they drop a spot!”
“Spoken like a true youngest.”
“Coming from what? An only child!? That’s the vibe you give off!”
“Step.” The word felt punctuated as she began to move around toward the front of her head.
“How many?”
“One.”
“Huh.”
“Jason.” She felt the need to name him. “Jase.”
“Who’s older?”
“Me, barely.”
“So it wasn’t really-?”
“I was stuck with him.”
“Oh, like that.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a big oldest child complaint, pretty sure. Raph hated me when I was younger.”
Kendra paused to think.
“My favorite.” He clarified.
She turned her head a little to glimpse him.
He shared the look.
Her eyes darted away.
“Kendra.” He openly scolded.
“What?”
“You don’t know which one he is, do you?”
“It’s not my fault!” She bristled.
“We’ve been dating for months!”
That felt like a cold shock. “You barely talk about them!”
“I-!” His complaint died in his throat.
For a moment, there was only the sound of thick bristles painting strands of hair.
“That’s weird. I guess I haven’t… Huh.”
She didn’t want to, but she felt the same chilling confusion.
She had lost her way.
Here, Michelangelo was, in her apartment, willingly sharing information she could use and she hadn’t thought twice about. She now knew for sure that they all still lived together underground. He openly approached the topic of Donatello and she didn’t immediately bite his head off. He openly confirmed that Donatello didn’t rank highly which meant it would be easier for her to scam said man without upsetting this one.
The bleach fumes must have been getting to her because she paused.
Why did she care how Mikey felt?
She was supposed to ditch him when this was over.
Plant the virus and be rid of him.
Months.
They had been dating for months.
She had been the one to invite him here.
She hadn’t even plotted out any talking points to get her closer to her supposed goal.
Was that still the point?
She was meant to ruin the symbol of Genius Built.
The grandiose golden boy was going to become a new type of poster child.
So why didn’t she feel like she particularly cared anymore?
She went back to bleaching her hair because that’s what she was doing. She could now see the locks turning blond as the blueish color of the bleach sank into the layers. It stripped the fading hues because that was the chemical process taking place. Her old brand was being dissolved in real time to make room for her new one. Whether it would become teal or cyan depended on whatever convention best fit the marketing.
She felt empty and liminal in a way that one felt amidst great change. It was a sensation that she usually only took on as a precipice. For her, it was one to fling herself over and never look back. She had already done the climb and sailing off the cliff was the goal. The achievement beyond what was tangible and it had never been one she had to think about. There was always a clear goal post to head towards in the sky.
Except there hadn’t been in years. She worked the bleach deep into her stubborn roots. It was just like those garden beds where the top crop had to be cut free before she could access the weeds. She had been shorn for a while now but had cowered instead of growing once again. Her roots were suffering in a visible way because she was suffocating. Doing this, right now, was a step, but she had no direction or plan.
Nothing had changed.
She was still the deadbeat felon who could barely afford to cover her rent, let alone eat. She carted around a loudmouth who, no matter how hard she tried, would never fit her usual lackey mold. He stubbornly walked beside her. She added the last bit of slop to her hair and glanced at him.
He was quietly pondering to himself, but felt her eyes and looked up. “You pretty much got it!”
“Yeah…” She looked at the sink before reviewing her application. “Which one is Raph?”
“Red.”
“So Lee… Leo? Is that the last one?”
“Blue, yeah.”
“Confusing…” She told the strangely calm version of herself.
The one that put up with this.
“You guys match with another thing besides colors.”
“Bandana styles?”
“Sure.”
“Yeah, Leo and I show head and the other two don’t.”
“You have hair.” She emphasized as she set a timer for the bleach to do its work.
“Didn’t always.”
“You match, so where’s Leo rank?”
Mikey clammed up.
“Last.” Kendra smirked.
“I love him! We match mask styles!”
“Did you do it to make up for not getting along with him?”
He gave a horrified gasp. “We get along!”
“Always, right? Just like how Raph hated dragging your baby butt along.”
His mouth audibly snapped shut.
“I get you guys do the hero thing, but it doesn’t have to be all the time. It’s a job, right?”
“I guess.” He sulked.
She felt like she had both misstepped and not.
She chased the latter feeling because it was a strange one.
She didn’t usually have this sort of foresight outside her person.
Another odd sensation for the book of today. “You’re orange. You like orange, but you don’t like when that’s all you are.”
She could feel him watching her closely.
“You grew up as part of this set and it’s… I don’t know. You don’t need my permission, but it’s okay or whatever for your life to not be about them!” She sped up as she went on because her chest twisted up around the statement.
The foreign feelings stuck in what should have been the black hole in her heart and made it all too tender.
Mikey was especially quiet.
She checked the timer as if she could rush the process. This all unnerved her for a reason that she couldn’t quite place and she was getting sick of the stacking unknowns. Her hair was a smoothed image in the mirror and she decided then to similarly unruffle herself. There was no point in sulking in what she didn’t know and her time was better spent working on what she did. “Gonna get ready to rinse.”
She still had twenty odd minutes, but decided to widdle it away. He stayed behind as she ducked into her bathroom with the bottle of shampoo. She left the door open behind her as a point. She sat on the toilet as it was buddied up to the tub. It was the perfect place to hang her head over when it was time to turn on the tap.
She spent several minutes finally reading that bottle. She spent a few more doing a quick check of her email. The last went down to resolving her will and she got the water going to her preferred tepid by the time the alarm sang. She pulled down the handheld shower head. It was the one modification she had really done to the place and she was absolutely taking it with her when she left whether she had to rip it out of the wall or not.
After a thorough rinse, suds, and rinse again, she cleaned her hair until the tingles subsided before she realized she had forgotten her ratty towel. “Mikey!”
“H-here!” He spoke on a bit of a delay.
“Can you get me…? Ugh! It’s like my ugliest towel! Tie dye when it shouldn’t be!”
“One used for dyeing, I’m going to look around!”
“Yeah! It shouldn’t be far.”
“Found it!” He chirped near immediately. “Can I…?”
“Door’s open! Geez! Give it, hurry up!” Blond tips dangled in front of her vision.
He appeared behind her and the cotton brushed her hands.
“Thanks.” She stunted out before scrubbing her head right there.
“We’ve… always… only had each other…”
“What?” She twisted the towel up on her head before sitting back to view him.
“My family.” He looked at her meaningfully from where he leaned in the door jamb.
She felt similarly stripped and small sitting on her toilet lid. “Oh...”
He rubbed his arm. “Sorry… I’ll just…”
“No…” Her hand raised and she flicked her fingers at its audaciousness. “No, I mean… I…”
He leaned against the old wood for the pressure.
“Don’t… expect any gooeyness!”
His expression grew fond.
“I don’t know! I guess it makes sense! You were all cooped up underground for years or whatever! Then you went straight to saving the world or whatever it is that you told me! I guess that makes it hard! When all you have is each other. When the city… seems really big and maybe not to you because to you it’s new, but to your parents it’s a totally different city than they knew, so they’re homebodies and they’re doing their best, but it feels like you gotta escape that oppressive feeling…”
Her voice felt too loud.
“But you’re you! You wanted to show your hero-dad up or whatever! You’re part of some set, but you’re your own piece and getting older, that’s all leaving the nest and not even the most understanding parent is going to agree with everything you do because that’s life. You’re living it. Not them. You gotta stick it to them and stick to your guns… even if… if you fail…”
She had to move and stood.
He expertly swung against the jamb like a second door and she exited.
She approached the mirror and took a deep breath. “I usually bleach twice, but I am so over this.”
He watched as she unraveled the towel. The blond didn’t look right against her skin, but it was lighter than she expected. She turned side to side and the wet follicles slapped against her cheeks.
“This might work though…”
“I want to color it.”
She snapped her head at him and had to wince when some of her hair smacked into her eye.
“Let me.”
When she could see again, it was like viewing fire from a man who could create it in thin air.
For the first time in the last few hours she felt a surge of sureness.
A comfort that she could depend on and she breathed out her lung capacity. “Okay.”
No threat.
No comment.
That was it.
“We need to dry it first.”
She sat in the computer chair and he wheeled her into place. She watched as he moved around her vanity like it was his house. He found her ancient hair dryer before she could tell him where it was. He got the plug going and took a second to depress the breaker. With a firm air, he only had to make one adjustment for the length of the cord before he turned the dryer on his palm. He waited for it to warm up before he readied himself for her.
She bowed for him to go ahead and he got to drying her hair. With light sweeps of his hands, he worked down through her roots to eradicate all moisture. Her dirty blond locks puffed up as they were free of their downy liquid and grew to a lighter dry shade. It strengthened her resolve that this would work and her faith grew in time.
Mikey squashed the last of the anxieties that she would never entertain. She paid attention to him out of curiosity and nothing more. If he was secretly a hairdresser on the side, she would believe it. She would need to look up his cosmetology license and finally get him on having lied to her about something at least partially nefarious.
The way he cleaned the bowl of residual bleach said he had no finesse of the sort.
He only had his own experience, which he showed in asking for foil.
She had only the cooking type to spare in an oversized roll. She did some light internet research to see if it was applicable and it seemed like it was. Mikey prepared a pile of sheets before he checked the bowl and brush a second time. He found them satisfactory and snapped her damp dye towel to lay it over her shoulders like a cape before he got to work.
“You know, your hair being a little yellow’ll work. I’m pretty sure this cyan is too blue.”
She tried not to move too much as that fluttering in her chest cavity returned. “You forgot gloves.”
“Nah, I like to feel my paint.”
“And dye your hands.”
“I’m pretty dark already.” He showed her his palm in demonstration before bringing it right back to start painting her strands.
“And your clothes?”
He paused for that one.
She looked at him from around the first swipe of cyan in his hand.
He shot over to the sink for a wash before he yanked his top off.
“Hey!”
“Problem?” He flexed for her.
“Stop! Don’t strip in my place!”
He laughed. “It was your idea.”
“I didn’t say ‘take your clothes off,’ I said ‘ruin them, loser.’”
“You did not.” He chastised and went back to her hair.
“Well, I should have.” She pulled up her legs to get comfortable.
He went on coloring her hair until he seemed to relax amongst the paint.
“You good?” She asked before she could think better of it.
“This is helping.”
“I was too harsh, huh?”
He shook his head.
“I have a hard time believing you.”
“You have a hard time believing anyone.”
“I wonder why!?”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“This is why Red got tired of you. I bet you were like this when you were younger, but worse.”
“I absolutely was. Terrible twos who? I was terrible til like twenty.”
He wasn’t usually self-depreciating and she frowned.
He caught it as he folded some foil. “Obnoxious, not terrible.”
“Not much different.”
“It is.”
“You believe everything your family tells you?”
“Do you?”
They had a stare off.
“Okay, let’s be each other’s judge. I’m hearing a whole lot of us needing perspective here. We swap back and forth sibling stories.” He suddenly spun her chair around.
Her vision rotated until she landed on his scorching gaze.
Her stomach flipped and her scowl turned down to squash it back into place.
He cock a knowing grin.
“No competition allowed. Got it?”
He broiled the statement into her skin until her cheeks burned and she had to look away. “Fine! Calm down… Geez…”
He was more gentle in replacing her chair so she could see herself. “And when you have new hair we’ll put out our verdicts on whether we were bad or not.”
“I never said I was.”
“You tried to convince me that you were beneath me on our second date.”
That was an oversimplification, but he would get her on semantics.
“I’ll start?”
She stared at him through the mirror before giving a curt nod.
“During one of our first official sleepovers ever, I made Leo so mad that he went to dad, but he couldn’t, ya know, go home because we were home…”
She shared a tidbit about how her household stopped buying jello because Jase had one allergic reaction. It then went back to Mikey who used the allergy angle and how he ate peanut butter with his fingers. He apparently put Raph into epileptic shock by scratching an itch he couldn’t reach with the substance under his nails. It pinged back to Kendra, who had to take a dive off a trampoline to save Jase at one of the Ricci family gatherings and the escalation continued.
They bounced off each other in the usual ping-ponging of verbiage until they were soon just complaining about family instead of talking about how they wronged them. It was exaggerated groans of commiseration and champing at the bit to get the next tale in. Judgment was passed early and flippantly. Mikey clutched his pearls a few times, but with Kendra’s relentless press, he snuck in small comments on how he agreed. The color was applied along with a timer and they continued to talk straight through to when it went off.
“Look now or later?” Mikey asked her firmly.
“It needs to be washed first.” She told him with the same gravity.
He nodded and turned her away to get the foil out. She tried peeking, but he took great care in tucking her hair back and out of her periphery. She put on a growing scowl until she wriggled in place and he had to badger her to stop. She hated how much she appreciated when he was poignantly stern and with it when he finally pulled away.
He whipped the towel from her shoulders and a shriek died in her throat about how it would stain her shirt.
He had pinned her length up at some point to keep from doing that exact thing.
She looked to see him holding the towel up like a cover to block the mirror.
She couldn’t see his face, but felt his toothy grin from behind it.
She rushed to the bath and called to him for forgetting the other shampoo.
With a quick scrub and a lengthy loss of color that always seemed to be too much, the water eventually ran clear.
“There’s another towel.” She called with urgency.
“Which?!” He sounded like he was already looking.
“A white one! Clean! I bleach it!” She tried not to look at the swatch of hair right between her eyes.
“White. White…” Mikey’s voice moved until it headed her way. “White! Got it!”
It appeared to her left and she scrubbed it over her head.
There was cyan transfer.
Her heart skipped and she allowed it.
It felt like monumental fate as she took the three steps from the toilet to the vanity.
Her image appeared in the dirty mirror with uncharacteristically wide eyes.
Joy, if she had to label it.
Perfectly wet and dark cyan locks spoke to her eye that they would dry the exact shade she wanted.
For one second, her vision welled up.
She then looked right past it as she grabbed the counter and leaned forward.
Her reflection looked back at her as a cyan avatar. She could easily command the flames with this.
I can't believe we're already here... My deepest thanks to my betas @tmntxthings and @unrestrainedhotsoup
