Hey, Stop Scrolling.

Had the idea that Splinter needed to wean Leo off needing Donnie to sleep cuz lil Donnie started needing his own space, but it was a struggle. Til Splinter discovered the secret dough rolling technique and on occasion adult Leo will wrap himself in a ball as a self-comforting method when he’s missing his family most.

I FLIPPIN LOVE THIS!! LET THE BIG BOI BE BABIED!

Part 8!

He’s teeny tiny now okay

Their size difference is an absolute mess and I’m not even going to do anything about it haha

Part 1

Reblogging these because A: I think I’m clever and I laughed way too hard making these and B: I got to show them to my dad which like never happens, so it’s a big day!

Astronomy Lines Pt. 2

Made some wallpapers featuring the disaster twins because Venus is one disaster of a planet 😆

Went looking for this one again; in a mood tonight

14. Three more hours

Hello sophia!!! 👋 Thank you for sending in this prompt! I had to sit on this one a bit, but I hope you like what I whipped up!

#14 "Three more hours." w/ all 4 turtles! (aged up Bayverse - some tension and some comfort ahead!)

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"Three more hours," you reassured yourself in a hush. "Just three more. You can do this. It's fine. Everything is fine."

What it was exactly that made you nervous in the first place, you couldn't say. You'd been more than ready to climb into bed. Eager as you crawled in under your weighted blanket, happily looking forward to sweet dreams that were hopefully waiting for you just on the other side of conscious thought. Tired eyes falling closed readily, sleep coming to quiet your mind, when suddenly, fear clutched at your chest, starting you wide awake.

Worry over four brothers flooded you. Four brothers who were out, moving about in the darkness of night, doing their part to protect this city you called home. Putting themselves in harm's way just as they did every night. Four brothers who, if you were really honest with yourself, you loved very deeply.

But why the anxiety tonight? Why the sudden stress? Sure, you worried about them all the time. Always the lingering concern for their safety and well-being. The secret life they lead was far from being risk-free after all. But it'd never shook you from sleep like it had tonight.

Something had to be wrong. Really wrong.

So here you were, pacing about an uncomfortably quiet lair, fretting over what dangers your four dearly cherished humanoid turtles had to be battling against right now. Trying in vain to occupy your worried mind. Distract yourself from your thoughts, imagination embellishing each into bleaker and bleaker scenarios.

Another glance at the clock. Another anguished sigh. "Two more hours." Could you do it? Could you remain there, drowning in perturbation, obediently waiting for their scheduled hour of return?

Your fingers tapped your phone. A quick text message couldn't hurt, right? You'd done it before. But what if that made things worse? What if they were in a bad position, injured and waiting it out for the threat to subside? And then the chime of your text gave them away? No. No, you couldn't risk it.

But surely, if there were something that serious going on, there'd be signs right? More sirens and alarms than normal. The media buzzing on the news with Breaking Reports. Chatter and static all over the guy's radios. A call from April or Jones at least. Right? Right???

A rumbling groan let loose as you slumped down onto their reinforced couch. How in the world did Master Splinter handle this? Especially when they were younger??? No wonder his brown fur was already grey, going on white. You were sure at this point you'd be joining him in that department soon yourself.

You couldn't handle this sitting and waiting any more.

You'd taken to scrubbing the floors throughout the common areas of the lair so intently that you didn't even recognize the next couple of hours slipping by. It wasn't until you heard heavy footsteps drawing near that you snapped out of it and rushed to the entrance. Nerves reaggravated and your stomach turning as you braced to be met with the terrible state they must be in.

But instead of confirmed dread, you were met with four very tired terrapins dragging themselves home. Exhaustion evident in their slumped shoulders and dropped heads. No apparent signs of injury or duress.

You could have cried in relief.

The four looked to you then glanced around to each other, then at the clock, and back to you. But there were no smiles. No hugs. No expressions of normal greeting.

Oh great, something really was wrong.

"What - what are you doing, (Y/N)?" Donnie inquired. He looked you up and down, taking in your rolled up sleeves, disheveled hair and the mop bucket just a few feet away from you. "And why are you cleaning? What's wrong?"

"Oh," you glanced back at the bucket of soapy water. "I - just - um - nothing's wrong. Just couldn't sleep," you lied.

Four flat expressions met your words.

"That's your stress cleaning," Leo stated matter-of-factly. "You only use that mop when you're stressed. What's going on?"

The four remained still in front of you. Each blinking slowly and giving slow, heavy breaths tied to weariness.

Guilt settled in where worry had currently been bedding. You twisted your fingers nervously. It was true. You were stress cleaning. And they were all looking like they were on the verge of collapsing. Yet here they were, waiting for your explanation.

You dropped your eyes. "I couldn't sleep because I was worried about you guys. Something just - just felt like it was really, really wrong. I just needed to make sure you guys were okay. That you were safe. I was scared - well - I guess I was just scared. For you guys."

No reaction.

When you raised your eyes back to the four, their expressions hadn't changed at all. Not one of them spoke to dispel your concerns.

So something was wrong!

Leo sounded off a few clicks. The other three immediately turned to their respective rooms. Leo following behind. Leaving you standing alone without a word.

Okay, you thought to yourself. Okay. They're just really tired. That's all. It's okay. It's alright. You wiped a shaky tear away from your eye. They're home. And they're all safe. That's what matters. You could talk to them about what happened later. They just to get some sleep.

Emptying the mop bucket, you tried to keep yourself from tearing up. Constantly retelling yourself that as of right now, there was nothing to stress over anymore. They hadn't meant to be outright rude. Or hurtful. Or show total disregard for your worry. They were just tired. That was it. It was okay.

Raph reemerged just as you were throwing your jacket around your shoulders. He was only wearing a loose pair of red shorts now. A heap of blankets atop his shoulder and his mattress pulled along under his other arm. He cast a look down on you under heavy eyelids. "Where you goin?"

Donnie and Mikey came into the room as Raph dropped his mattress down in front of the couch. For the first time you'd ever seen, Donnie was wearing shorts, and Mikey was in a baggy pair of lounge pants. They were carrying their mattresses and bedding as well. Leo, in silky blue sleep pants, joined right after.

Nothing was said as they began making their beds. Each mattress pressed against the other, fashioning a massive bed topped with extra blankets and pillows. You watched on, still unsure what the guys were doing.

You felt a pair of large hands on you, nearly making you jump. Mikey was carefully working your jacket back off your shoulders as Leo reached up, wrapping an arm around your waist. His pull was gentle as he encouraged you down into the middle of the bed. Donnie, Raph and Mikey climbed in right behind. The four of them settling in around you.

Raph's heavy hand curled around one of your calves. Mikey draped an arm over your waist. Donnie rested his hand over the back of your shoulder, his thumb stroking gentle circles as his tired eyes finally closed. Leo threaded his two fingers between yours and held your hand tight.

"Sorry we scared you." The words were quiet. Almost sounding ashamed.

"Hey," you soothed back. "No apologies. That's my job. To love you guys. And with love comes worry."

A gentle squeeze from Raph's hand and a heavy sigh from Mikey met your words.

"You guys are worth it. Especially to me." The five of you sat in silence a moment, taking comfort in all being together. "Goodnight, guys. Sweet dreams." You let your own heavy eyes close and snuggled in, happier than you thought having them all so close as you slept.

"G'night."

"Sweet dreams, (Y/N)."

"Night."

"Goodnight. Have sweet dreams," Leo whispered.

The lair fell back into silence. The four brothers laying still. Allowing the comfort of you being here, of them all being together, to help them drift off to sleep. Each silently resolving to themselves to not let you know how right you were. And how very terrible the night had actually been.

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@luckycharms1701 @yorshie @justalotoffanfiction @celticvix @writinandcrying @donniesgirlie @gornackeaterofworlds @thelaundrybitch @tmnt-tychou

My reaction to this comic. I literally waited ALL day to come home from work to take this picture because this was just too real and raw for me not to be real myself to show how much it shook me

so face reveal sorta?

I can’t tell you how much closure I’ve received watching this 😪🙏🏼🫶🏼🧡

✨Note to self: Isolation is not the answer✨

This ended up way longer than I originally anticipated but I have no regrets, I also got carried away in one too many shots and regret none of it

Enjoy!

part1 | part2 | part3 | part 4 context: 1 / 2/ 3 / 4

After calming down the two of them just sit down and talk about it, Oneion explains everything more calmly, all the messures his brothers have taken to prevent him going into Survival Mode along with the ways they've find out to snap him out or fully stop him

(From then on Sprout has a high voltage taser intalled on his prostethic, just in case)

This is pretty much it on my part for the whole OneOne-Toast fight aftermath situation! Ell did a thing with One and Poptart too!

I also have some more Sprout and Oneion doodles, they are not connected to this event but I might post them over the weekend

Random Thunks

I was just thinking today that with my unfortunate luck of always attracting MUCH older men (must be the old soul or somethin idk) I’d probably have a better chance of talking to Peepaw Leo now than if I was his actual age 😦☝️🏼😶✊🏼

First things first, Y E S *slams hand down on table excitedly* NOW THIS IS WHAT I CALL WHOLESOME FAMILY ART🙌🏼🧡✨🤌🏼

Second @saspas-corner, @holydoncakes @anobodyinabog *bear poses* If you didn’t want to be assimilated into my found family, you should have ran when you had the chance 😏😈😎

I have no context for this

(Found a lil drabble I wrote a while back that I wasn't gonna share outside of my buddies but you know what? Cute Brand New Papatello be upon you.) *

It wasn’t until he was cradling his daughter to his plastron, fresh from the tube she’d been grown in, that it occurred to Donnie he had never once in his life held a baby before. The thought was equal parts terrifying and surreally fascinating.

Distantly, he knew his family was losing their collective minds over the infant turtle mutant. He vaguely recognized a coo from someone - Leo? - telling the others to look at Donnie’s expression right now (“He’s a goner already.” An affectionate laugh. “You good, Dee?” “Shhh let him have this.” “Her fingers are SO small!”). But the longer Donnie looked at the baby curled into his chest, the less his family’s voices made sense. 

Sound fell away. Hesitantly, Donnie brushed a hand - as big as she was - over the curve of her tiny shell. It was softer than his, the smooth leather surface still damp with incubator fluids. He could feel the ridge of her spine. The alien familiarity, the echo of his own shell, the smallness and fragility of her, the miracle that she was here and alive - a million thoughts and feelings simultaneously colliding - made Donnie’s breath hitch and a wave of warmth wash over him. 

Donnie had already decided he cared about this baby, and his dum dum brain had already sent out all the dum dum hormones that filled him up with more dum dum affection for her than he knew what to do with. All the researching and the planning and the prepping and the step-by-stepping so that everything would be fully assembled to help her thrive and grow had been rigorously completed. And yet. And yet and….and yet….Donnie had never been so prepared while also being so helplessly lost and overwhelmed. 

Words failed him. 

His fingers were touching lightly over her cheek, her brow, hands so small they made his heart squeeze. She was incredible. She was the scariest thing he had ever beheld. And also the most beautiful. His stomach flipped. Instinctively, she searched for something to latch on to, mouth as toothless as a koi fish on the tip of his finger. The sound she made was an unmistakeable, Donnie’s-world-altering, high, sweet chirp. Donnie didn’t realized he’d clicked back automatically until an especially shrill noise of delight erupted from his brothers. With it, the vacuum tight bubble around himself and the baby popped. 

Sound and smell and sight outside of himself and his miniature copy rushed back in. It was disorienting, but Donnie’s focus was resolute. He tried to ask for the bottle they’d prepared for her. She needed feeding and there was still some potential trial and error ahead in figuring out just what she would eat (baby formula? Turtle food? A Yokai recipe of some kind? Donnie had about a dozen different forms of nourishment prepped just in case. But he couldn’t manage to ask for a single one of them. The very thought of taking his attention off of her was absurd.  

“How you holding up, Dad Man?” Leo asked with a laugh, the sound softer than usual. All of his family had settled down after Donnie came back to himself, maybe recognizing he was toeing the line of overstimulated, maybe just genuinely soft and happy themselves over seeing whatever it was they saw on Donnie’s face. He could worry about the implications of that when he reviewed the footage for his archives later. Right now however…

Replying should have been easy. Just string together a few coherent words, Donatello. Speaking was something he was perfectly capable of. He inhaled to do so.  The rise of his chest for air, however, made the baby stir against him, peeping softly, and what little remaining rationale Donatello Hamato had flew out the window. Donnie was scooping her in closer, pressing his nose to the top of her head as he curled around his baby.

“Perfect.” He mumbled.

“Ha! Say again?”

“She’s perfect.”

Augustine Hamato, daughter of Donatello Hamato - his stomach flipped at the thought - was absolutely, two hundred percent…perfect.

oh to be small enough to be cuddled and cradled like this 🥺🧡❤️🫂

A little G/t Sunset Duo I drew to decompress from school <3 They're watching a movie and Mikey is stimming with Raph's tail :)

On another note, I've closed asks because of my busy IRL schedule, but my DMs are still open for art commissions.

Anyone gonna mention that here thanks to the beautiful (aNd InCreDibLy PaInFuL) work of @somerandomdudelmao that we see THE Donnie, who is known to be touch adverse most of the time, is so scared, hurt, frustrated, lonely (what other Donnified adjective that fits) is not only actively ReAcHiNg, but using whatever little strength he has to get to Casey, to HOLD him as fast as he can.

Anyone? Or is that just me?