Me Wanting To Workout For Reasons Like This Like…

SOMEONE DID IT! I WAS THINKING ABOUT TRYING TO DO IT BUT THIS IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN I THOUGHT!!

JFHEISBDIENWIFOOGJEJWJDHSKAKKDJD

THATS MY SON! THATS MY BOY!

Sweet Merciful heavens he is GORGEOUS in your style like DANG. He looks good 😦😦😦

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! I can’t tell you how I genuinely shrieked with joy when I saw this. Like…I’m going to stare at this and try to absorb the skill through osmosis or something. ITS GOING IN THE REFERENCE PAGE

BLESS YOU BOOTIFUL HOOMAN FOR MAKING MY DAY!

*inhales sharply and comes skidding into your inbox with a pant*

OMIGOODNESS HELLO MR. SPIDER HI!

It’s so so so good to see you again! I hope everything is just absolutely splendiferous in your corner of the world tonight! I heard from a common little fox friend of ours that you were taking 2017 TMNT x OC requests? Might a make an offer to help in your quest to conquer boredom *excitedly hands you my baby boy*

This is my son Vincent

(he’s still a work in progress that I love very very much)

He’s Morrocoy Yellow Footed Tortoise. A gentle heart blacksmith with a passion for all kinds of weaponry and anything having to do with space. The strong silent type of you will. Literally. Man is mute, but speaks fluent turtle and sign language.

I usually as him being buddies with Mikey/ Donnie because they are usually more than happy to fill his silence with their excitement of their interest atm.

BUUUUUUUT if you wanna challenge, you are more than welcome to draw Vincent with whatever turtle you feel would fit best! As Vincent is terribly socially awkward (poor baby I say like he isn’t 26 😆) he definitely needs some friends! Anyhoo, just a simple request if you have the energy or time. If not, then no worries! Just keep on keeping on and know that you are loved and appreciated! 🧡

Ngl I saw his ref before the text and immediately knew Mikey would be perfect for him. What a cute big guy! He'll be taken care of :]

Me and @anobodyinabog watching Disney’s Gargoyles like

I was NOT expecting to have Shakespearean politics within my 1990s Disney cartoon show…

oHOHOHO character analysis you say? *cracks knuckles* Lemme try my hand at this…

My personal ROTTMNT HC’s

Bad Boy: Donnie > See the thing with Donnie is he very much gives me Michele Buble’s “This Thing Called Love Vibes.” As in he “must get around to it.”

I don’t really think that romance is really up Donnie’s alley. Not that he’s not capable or anything. Donnie knows he looks good and has a terrifying amount of self confidence because the turtle knows he gunna DeLiVeR.

But he’s a little introverted right? With an extremely extroverted family. To have to deal with romance is finding someone whose company rivals his enjoyment of solitude which I’m under the impression is very hard for him to come by.

Not to mention, I personally HC Donnie as demisexual or not being sexually interested or attracted until after having a deep emotional connection. Now I get Donnie has a “type” or whatever but I think that’s more of just an aesthetic appeal more than anything because Donnie cares about fashion and appearances (in the fact of looking good and dressing appropriately)

WHICH IS WHY HE WOULD BE THE BAD BOY! In the fact, I think he uses/pushes the title as an “emotionally unattached bad boy” as a way to hide from unnecessary attachments because relationships take a lot of work and energy and Donnie would rather dedicate that to his projects instead. Because they’re controllable and predictable. People are not.

Again, I think Donnie would act and be happy as the bad boy until ya know, he gets fricken hit in the face with the feels. And then he becomes the most obsessed overthinking sap the world as ever seen. I liked @khayalli take in demisexual Donnie for further explanation. (Go check it out)

Flirt: Mikey> Ok listen. Mikey is cute. He’s adorable. He’s emotionally mature. He’s naturally outgoing and friendly. Not to mention he’s also the youngest with a baby face. And the kicker?

He knows it. Now Mikey is not malicious by any means, but he’s also no simpleton. If he wants something, by using a combination of ANY of those listed above traits, I find it very hard to believe that he wouldn’t get what he wanted in some way and fashion. And ROTTMNT Mikey is no Bayverse Mikey in the means that he’s constantly throwing like pickup lines and pulling moves or anything, but I do think he’s genuinely a sweetheart who just wants to make friends. In my experience, a handful of well placed compliments, talking about common interests and playful physical connection (which is all apart of typical flirting behavior), goes a LONG way in helping people lower their defenses and be friendly right back. So I don’t think Mikey is necessarily a flirt intentionally (heaven help the poor person of interest, ROTTMNT Mikey sets his eyes on wooing. I sincerely doubt any chances of them coming out alive) but rather just has a natural charm about him that he uses to his advantage in his attempts to make connections. Miss @sophiacloud28 does a wonderful example of showing this in her darling fic “A Shot In the Dark” (go check it out. The first couple chapters are delightfully giggle worthy)

Lover Boy (hopelessly devoted romantic): Raph> This is gonna be real short, but I’ll keep it to the point. Just like Raph’s sai’s 😏👉🏼👉🏼. First, check out “The Heart Is a Muscle” by Gang of Youths and then come look me in the eyes and tell me this isn’t a Raph coded song. Go. Do it. I’ll wait. Simply put, the heart is a muscle and Raph knows a thing or two about muscles. He knows how to work them. How to stretch them to the breaking point and still come back swinging. Despite all of that strength, all of that power, Raph’s real secret weapon is just how much he cares. Raph no matter the iteration, but EsPeCiAlLy in Rise, cares with ALL of his big, beautiful heart. And the best part, is he’s not afraid to show it unlike other Raph’s. He loves, and loves, and loves some more. He loves and because he loves, he protects. Because he protects, he fights. And he’s fighting with the biggest muscle of them all: his heart.

So you really want to tell me, that Rise Raph who willingly cuddles with stuffed animals, gets excited about ambience and cake, cries at lovely dovey moments, talks in a baby voice to his brothers, constantly pulls said brothers into hugs and immediately jumps off and in front of danger to protect said family would not love you with every fiber of his being, with ALL of his heart in ways that only Raph’s can do, and tell me he’s not a devoted romantic? @clioarcadia Has some of the best examples of the completely whipped Raph that I have in mind. Most wholesome, go check it out 🤌🏼

F* Boy: Leo> Ok. Somewhat similarly with Mikey, Leo is pretty. Except instead of having Mikey’s wholesome somewhat naivety about his own appeal, Leo knows he’s pretty and he flaunts it. He literally calls himself the Faceman. And that’s just what he does. In all times and in all places. Leo is constantly saving face. Because despite having the said “prettiest face” of the family, sometimes it can be hard to be pretty when your own reflection is hard meet in the eye. Eye contact is something you use when you want to be serious and when you tell need to tell the truth.

And while Leo most definitely can be serious, I think he really struggles with being honest. To others for sure (the manipulative little butt) but especially to himself. So I think being a said F* boy is Leo’s way to find the connection, affection and attention he craves without having to lose the security of having said face and accidentally exposing himself.

Because everybody knows that when the mask finally falls, it never fits in place the same way again. @desceros and @gbao3 do a really good job of highlighting and illustrating these facts if any of y’all are curious.

I saw your lover boy headcanons and I raise you this, Avery

Bad Boy: Raph

Flirt: Mikey

Lover boy: Donnie

Fuck boy: Leo

*cough*

I mean, yes. Totally agree.

Now - calling fans of other iterations!

Reblog and tell me who's who:

Bad Boy:

Flirt:

Lover Boy (hopelessly devoted romantic):

Fuck Boy:

Just for funnies!

Memory

RaphaelxReader

Warnings: Amnesia, Angst

(this is so tropey and self indulgent that I was almost too embarrassed to post it, thank you @the-cauldron-witch for giving me the stones. Apologies in advance. 😅)

"What are you to me?"

You freeze, your pen stopping mid-letter. For the last week you'd been trying to figure out how to answer if he asked, and you were still at a loss. 

Don't think for him, Donnie'd said, the memories are there, he just has to form the connections. They'll be stronger, and this will go faster, if you let him do that on his own.

He knows he shouldn't be asking, but every time he looks at you he feels like he's missing something important, and the way you look at him sometimes... he can't bear it. 

"We should, um," you clear your throat, looking very intentionally at the paper in front of you, "we should really focus on this analysis. The more data we can feed Donnie, the sooner he can figure out of there'll be any serious lasting consequences to this." 

"I'm missing three years of my life, I'd say that's pretty serious," he quips, humorlessly. You still haven't looked up at him. Jaw tight, measured breaths the only thing keeping your hand steady. You'd been keeping it together for the last two weeks, you couldn't break now. Least of all in front of him. 

Six hours trapped in a reinforced refrigeration truck. He only survived because of what little body heat you could offer, but you'd both nearly died. You woke a few days later, in the infirmary, your hands still raw and recovering from frostbite, but Raphael... didn't. 

For fifteen days, no one knew if he was going to survive. You didn't sleep. You couldn't eat. You wouldn't leave his side. The number of arguments you and Donatello had about you resting were in the double digits. He might lose his brother, he wasn't going to lose his best friend, too. The only way you agreed was by dragging the couch beside the cot Raphael was laying in.  

When he awoke he couldn't remember much of anything. Slowly, over the course of the next week, memories drifted back like smoke. He remembered his father, his brothers, April, his best friend, Casey, that dumb ass, Vern, but not you. The last three years are still a blur and none of it makes any sense.

He looks at you like a familiar face at the grocery store. Like something is digging at the back of his mind, something important, but he can't quite place you. He looks at you with curiosity, even attraction at times, but the love that you built and fought for, through death and distance, is gone.

You inhale, before the pen begins to move again in your hand. He reaches up and stops it. 

"Y/N..." The familiar feeling of his hand around yours, his thumb gently brushing the hollow of your wrist, makes your chest ache and your eyes fall closed. 

Tears glitter at the seam of your eyelashes, as the words slip free unbidden, barely louder than a whisper, "I miss you..." 

His hand stills, there it is again. That feeling, understanding just outside his reach, he's pulled to you and he doesn't know why. Everything you do affects him, and right now, you're crying, and he would tear the world apart to see you smile again. 

You inhale sharply, pushing yourself to your feet and pulling your hand from his, leaving the pen on the table, "I need to go."

"Y/N, wait," he begs, quickly, standing, "please, I-" 

All of your faculties are being used to keep you in one piece. You don't even have the ability to attempt any kind of excuse. "I'll be back tomorrow night. We can finish the analysis then." You shove your laptop into your bag and zip it closed, slinging it over your shoulder, before you rush out of the lair to echoes of him begging you to stay. 

You barely make it home before you collapse by the couch and weep. Three years. Three years just gone. 

You pull the deep red blanket he made you last winter off the couch and wrap yourself in it, in him, in his scent, because it's the only thing of his you can wrap around you. 

You let yourself cry. Mourn. Since he woke up, you've been shoving everything down and away. 

This is not about you, you'd scolded yourself. 

You'd reminded yourself it must be worse for him. He's probably terrified, losing so much time must be scary as hell. And you'd kept it together. Every time he looked at you with that question in his eyes. Every time he said "hey" and kept walking. Every time he touched you... and let go. 

But you've reached your breaking point

The feeling of his hand on your wrist was so familiar, and you were pulled back into lazy evenings in bed, the sunset painting your skin, as the two of you found any excuse not to get up for work. Comfortable, safe, warm. Things you haven't felt since before all of this started. And it was all too much. 

Violent sobs rip through your body, as your heart rages in your chest. It's not fair. You'd already been through so much. Fought so hard. And, for him... none of it happened. The bone-deep love and connection that had become so vital to both of you, was ripped away, and you were the only one left bleeding. 

You don't notice the soft landing beside the window. 

He just stares at you for a moment. He's overcome with the need to catch you up, hold you to him, and do whatever he has to do to fix it.

"It's important, isn't it," he says finally, quietly, "what I can't remember."

You gasp and stand up, clumsily, hands flying to your eyes and wiping pointlessly at tears as you turn away, "You shouldn't be here." 

"See, I'm not so sure about that." He steps forward slowly, "because..." His eyes fall on a carved wooden rose, and he pauses. A craftsman can always recognize their work. His eyes begin to scan the dimly lit room around him. 

No photographs, but all around him are little things made by his own hands, his favorite books and movies, this place doesn't just feel familiar. It feels like home. His eyes return to yours as he continues his approach.

You fall back against the wall as he advances, "Does Donnie know your here? You really shouldn't be out running around the city by yourself. You're still recovering, it's not... safe." Your breath hitches as your back hits drywall. 

He takes your hand gently, holding it just like before, caressing the inside of your wrist. Your jaw clenches, and your eyes sting. As he invades your personal space, your body reacts on instinct, head tilting up, hand against his chest, and his responds, gripping your waist and pulling you into him, breathing in deeply a scent just on the edge of his memory. 

"That's what I'm missing, isn't it," he asks softly, tears darkening the fabric around his eyes, "that's what this feeling is... love." 

Your heart twists, and you can't breathe. You're trembling with loss and grief and you don't want him to stop. 

"I love you," he says, almost in wonder, holding your gaze. 

It's like a bullet to the chest and all the air rushes out of you. Tears stream freely from your eyes and you draw a shuddering breath. "You don't even know me," you say, and you swear you don't mean for it to come out as bitter as it does.

He flinches, stepping back, but not releasing your hand. The shame and guilt are instantaneous. None of this is his fault. You look down and away, unable to meet his amber eyes, "I- I'm sorry," you manage, "I-"

"You're wrong."

You look up through tears as he steps forward again, pulling you closer. A hand comes up and cups your cheek as the one around your waist tightens, and he looks down at you with an intensity you haven't seen in weeks. 

"I may not know your face, or remember... anything about you, but..." His eyes close and his hand slides into your hair as he dips his head and touches his forehead to yours, "I remember... this," he continues breathlessly, gripping your hair gently, "I remember this feeling... Your skin... against mine. Your scent..." 

It's there. He can feel it. Just beyond his reach. He's been grasping blindly. Needing you and not knowing why, needing to feel you under his hands, against him. 

The hand at your waist slides to your lower back, pulling you closer. "Help me," he pleads, eyes shut tight, all focus trained on you, voice thick with hope and desperation, "please... help me remember." 

Donatello's warnings burn to ash within your memory as his mouth claims yours in a searing kiss. 

It's clumsy at first. Demanding. Desperate. Like a dance he doesn't quite remember the steps to. He holds too tightly, moves too stiffly, but you open to him anyway, and a warm wave of sunlight flows into him. 

He was so cold. He's still so cold. He can't remember the truck but he can remember the cold. Seeping into him slowly. As time dragged on and his body heat waned he'd grown so tired so quickly. He could still feel it. Frost on his edges. He's tried everything. Heated blankets, hot showers, gallons of tea. He's been trying since he woke up, he just can't seem to get warm. 

But where his skin touches yours, it's like holding the sun. 

Your heat floods into him like warm, golden light. Like the dawn. Pouring into the deepest, coldest parts, and filling him completely with that feeling. Love. And there you are, beneath the melt. As vital and familiar as his own heartbeat.

His kiss softens, his hold becomes more sure, familiar. It takes you a moment, but you realize, between kisses, he's whispering, "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." He holds you the way he always has, and he kisses you the way he always has, and soon your crying too hard to kiss him back.

He holds you tight against him, pressing you against his chest, kissing your hair, apologizing over and over as if any of this is his fault. You cling to him desperately, afraid that if you let go it won't be real, that he'll forget you again. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, afraid that you'll be wrong, and you'll look up into his, and you'll find only questions.

His hold tightens and his eyes burn. He's angry. This is unacceptable. Unfair. He got played, and he was supposed to die in that truck. What the Oroku fuckers didn't count on, what they never count on, is you. You'd pressed yourself against him, sharing what little warmth you could. By the time the others found you, both of you were unconscious and hypothermic, but still alive, Raphael's large body wrapped tightly around yours. You'd kept his heart beating. Just like always.

He pulls back and attempts to raise your chin to meet his eyes. You resist. He can smell your fear, feel the pounding of your heart under his fingertips.

He rests his head against the side of yours and speaks your name softly, in the same voice that has pulled you peacefully from sleep a thousand times. Another sob escapes you and you curl into him tightly, before a few moments pass and you unfurl, your eyes raising to meet his. 

The weight of his gaze settles on you and you never thought you could be grateful to see such depths of pain within him, but within the pain was... everything else. From the depths of despair to the heights of ecstasy, every moment of the last three years was a storm inside his eyes.

You can see the naked rage, swirling in the tempest, and it mirrors your own. Those responsible would be dealt with, later. Now, you reach back behind him, and he dips his head to make it easier for you to remove his mask. You toss it aside, and he presses his forehead to yours. You rest your hands on either side of his face, tracing the familiar scars, and you can feel his shuddering exhale. 

"I love you."

"I love you."

"I'm sorry."

"Raphael-"

"I didn't mean to-" His breath catches on a sob, and you pull him tighter against you. Burying his head in your shoulder, he wraps his arms around your waist and breathes deep. If scent is the strongest sense tied to memory, he would bury himself in you. He would never forget again. 

....

I know this isn't how amnesia works, okay??? I KNOW the plot here is swiss cheese!!! but it got stuck in my head and now you have to deal with it too, so there.

...

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins @sacred-holy-light @celeste-clearwater-06 @pheradream-15

A good reminder for anybody that anyone great had to start somewhere.

embarrassment has good bones

*looks at piles of rough drafts with a thoughtful hum*

I…may have something for this actually…gimme a sec to clean it up…hold that thought

*falls from roof and lands gracefully- not.*

I HAVE AN IMPORTANT QUESTION hehe

Ahem

Do you ever think.. F!Leo and Y/N would get married. And if so.. do you think F!Leo would cry??

Keep up the amazing work you are very inspiring 💕💕

*Puts a pillow for you to land on*

OH UH HMMM...

I'm not sure if you meant my au or overall, so I'm going to stick with the second xd

I think, if we stick more to the canon, he would be like: "Marriage...? Why...? We're in the middle of the apocalypse, what are you talking about..." BUT, but, if Y/N is stubborn enough, Leo eventually gives up. "Yeah, ok, ok! You won! We'll arrange something..."

I can totally imagine him cry a bit (or not a bit...), but maybe after the whole ceremony? I imagine him keeping his cheerful, "classic Leo" facade the entire process, but after this all is over and him and Y/N is left alone, his mask cracks and emotions flow out. But, like, those are tears of happiness, also a bit of disbelief. I imagine him sitting down on the bed, hand on his face as tears begin to flow down his cheeks. He chuckles with a soft smile, processing the fact that this is something that actually happened, in this whole chaos when the world is crumbling down, and he just got this moment of happiness.

"Wow... I'm married..."

And I imagine him refusing marriage at first not only because of the circumstances they were in, but also because he didn't believe he deserved something like this.

Yeah I made a little sketch because the image of this moment scratched my brain...

Also, thank you~

People are legit talented, this is art and I’m obsessed with colors and beats 😆🙌🏼

This awesome animation is made by @tapakah0

AU made by somerandomdudelmao

FLASHING LIGHTS!

Briefly rising from the dead to ask: Which turtle are you similar to in personality vs who’s your fav

Similar to Mikey, fav is Leo 🤓⚔️

I pray to be the kind of person who has Christ’s countenance in my face. I don’t want to have to say I’m a Christian at all because I want my character to say it loud enough for me.