i am michelangelo

anonymous asked:

pls tell us more about the renaissance artists!1!!!

here we go [ part one | leonardo ]

Some Inspirational Quotes
  • “It takes nothing to join the crowd. It takes everything to stand alone.”  
    Hans F Hanson
  • “You are much more than what you’re going through.”  John Tew
  • “My only regrets are the moments when I doubted myself and took the safe route. Life is too short to waste time being unhappy.”  
    Dan Howell
  • “Be yourself. Don’t worry about what other people are thinking of you, because they’re probably feeling the same kind of scared, horrible feelings that everyone does.”  
    Phil Lester
  • “The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make one.”
    Elbert Hubbard
  • “The final forming of a person’s character lies in their own hands.”
    Anne Frank
  • “Life was meant to be lived, and curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn his back on life.”
    Eleanor Roosevelt
  • “We meet no ordinary people in our lives.”
    C.S. Lewis
  • “It’s the little details that are vital. Little things make big things happen.” 
    John Wooden
  • “If we all did the things we are capable of, we would literally astound ourselves.”
    Thomas Edison
  • “We build too many walls and not enough bridges.”
    Isaac Newton
  • “A small body of determined spirits fired by an unquenchable faith in their mission can alter the course of history.”
    Mahatma Gandhi
  • “I am still learning.”
    Michelangelo
Please?

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

Archive of Our Own
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Donnie let out something like a gasp as his arm gave out. He scrabbled frantically with the other, the jolt of terror granting him the will to fling his weak limb back up and haul himself to the roof.

This was the second time it had done this. The first time, he had cracked his skull on the concrete floor. The impact had knocked the breath from his lungs and rendered him utterly dazed and likely even duller. He completely relied on his family to lead him. With an inward chuckle, Donnie thought it must be like taking his animal self home all over again.

And, then, Donnie flinched. Why would he laugh at that?

God, he was out of it.

“—okay?”

Donnie cast his gaze to April, tipping his head left. Only able to guess what she had said, Donnie nodded. Though, he supposed, with their increased frowns, it may have just seemed like he had about drifted off.

Great.

Before he fell victim to the growing haze, Donnie forced himself to stand and shake. A particular wound on his shoulder twinged distinctively among the typical stinging, and he bit back a yelp. Instead, he winced and began desperately trying to crane his head back to ease the laceration.    

“He’s… obviously fine,” Mikey said, looking up at him.

“I am fine,” he attempted, but all that resulted was an inarticulate growl. Donnie flinched, blinked rapidly, and shook his head, turning away from them.  

Raph’s touch was gentle against his bicep. “Over there. Straight across,” he murmured, holding out his arm. Donnie stiffened, shortly looking at him with eyes haunted by gloom. “It’s fine, Donnie. Hurry up.”

He swallowed thickly and limped forward before Raph could register the hurt that must’ve flashed in his eyes. He tottered on the edge of the roof for a moment before practically falling into the alley.

He hissed under his breath, not bothering to pick himself up. That had really upset his wounds and the abrasions forming on his… palms? He turned his hand. There were delicate areas that stuck above the thin scales that perhaps looked like the pads of a typical quadruped. Donnie didn’t really know how to refer to the terminal part of his limb. It wasn’t quite prehensile, but it also didn’t resemble a typical paw too much…

Ugh. All that sophisticated thinking was making his brain hurt. He’d ponder again when he had slept and had energy to spare.

Donnie never thought there’d be a day that he’d have to admit such a dreadful notion.

He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily before inclining his head in time to see his brothers and April leap across the gap nimbly.

It wasn’t fair. Donnie drew his lip back. He should be—deserved to be— up there with them, not trapped in an alley and, even worse, the body of a blundering monster. His claws unsheathed and scraped the concrete, and he didn’t even bother trying to stop them.

But most his anger melted away when April appeared. As Donnie laboriously stood, she said, “Across again. You’ll be down there for a little bit. We’re trying to figure the way with the less risk.” When Donnie’s brows furrowed, she added, “The other alley has more room.” He couldn’t oppose the idea of more space, so he hoisted himself up to join them— Leo, Raph, Mikey, and April. Casey had to go home “if he wanted to come back.” The statement was oddly familiar. He disregarded it for now and hurried with his limp to the designated alley.

Once he reached the edge, he tried to slip down with much more grace. Already, the alley had plenty more room. He settled with a quiet sigh.

Then, his attention was drawn to scuffling in the far corner. Among the shadows, Donnie distinguished a large gray-black rat. It was an ordinary sight in New York City, and Donnie couldn’t understand why he was so transfixed. It was just an average rat.

But, then, his mouth dared water at the sight. It was pretty big, even for the standard rat. And… it seemed to not mind his presence. It would be easy to–         

No!

Donnie flinched and crouched, trembling. What was wrong with him? His father was a rat on some level and god this just further proved he was nothing more than an animal.

Despite his fierce efforts, his gaze fell again on the creature. The poor thing. Why hadn’t it scurried away yet? Surely his sharp movements had startled it. But, then again, urban rats were bold. He inched toward it.

He observed silently as it nosed around a lone trash bag. Its complete attention was set on finding some source of sustenance.

Donnie quieted his breaths, and his drowsiness was swept away as he slowly advanced a few more steps.

It would be quick. He could pounce and dispatch it by snapping its vertebrate before it could squeak or even comprehend what had happened. His sheer abrupt weight would do it for him.

He slithered forward and stilled his flicking tail.

They hadn’t been feeding him enough either. Donnie didn’t fault them. They had no way to know. But the food they presented was old and cold and far from fresh. This would be delightfully warm and savory and would sing on his tongue. A sudden change in the wind brought the creature’s scent straight toward him, allowing Donnie to even better inhale the delectable aroma—

Something in Donnie snapped, and, before he could register what exactly was occurring, the rat’s squeal was cut off abruptly, and it lay there under his remaining talons, its back horribly distorted in an arch with two vertebrae distinctly protruding unnaturally from its flesh.

As Donnie stared down at it, the full reality slammed into him.

No no no no no no no

He withdrew swiftly, his steps unsteady. His mind was swamped with remorse and revulsion and raw guilt and horror.

He could only just swallow a howl. If he did, then they would know for sure something had happened and they could not know about this—

“Donnie?”

He whipped around, hastily backing toward the body and concealing it with his tail. He fought to keep himself from trembling as he stared up at Leo.

His big brother frowned. “Are you okay?”

Donnie nodded promptly, though he regretted the intensity with which he had done so when his head throbbed.

“Okay?” Concern now gleamed in his eyes. “Uh, not much longer now.” He tilted his head. “I thought I heard a weird noise. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Donnie again nodded, trying to keep his desperation out of the gesture.

“Okay…” Leo’s eyes narrowed before he vanished.

Donnie let out a hoarse, shaky exhale, turning back to the rat.

What was he going to do with it? Could he really just leave it here to rot?

No, he told himself, some other animal will come by and eat it.

But…was leaving it the right thing? The best thing? Best, as in the noblest manner with which to deal with the situation? It just didn’t feel right to leave it untouched. If he ate it, he could paste a proper reason for it to have given its life, and it would clear his conscious on some level.

Donnie, him, himself, not the animal, still despised the very notion. Despite it, he took one look around before bowing his head.

Self-loathing and disgust churned in his stomach. Are you happy? he thought, directed at the horrible beast that continued to rule him.

Donnie hated to admit it, but the flesh was so ambrosial and delicious and good. The idea made him feel horrible and resulted in the negative feelings clutching his body intensifying.

And, at some point within the mess of hatred, Donnie had finished the rat. It had taken two bites.

It was like a heavy stone in his stomach that weighed him down. Despite the heaven his taste buds stubbornly persisted in, it all made him feel sick, and the earth swayed beneath him.

He just killed and ate a rat.

He killed it with his own deformed ha-paws. Paws. He was an animal. He didn’t deserve such an advanced title. Not in the least.

Donnie didn’t think he could ever look Splinter in the eye again. He bared his teeth.

It’s not like he ever pays me any attention anyway. In the inferno of self-hatred, a flame of bitterness sparked.

As far as he was concerned, Donnie was just a walking, breathing disappointment. He probably felt even more disdain now since Donnie was dumb enough to go get himself turned into a monster. He couldn’t remember the last time his father even personally spoke to just him or looked at him with something close to sincere affection.

Did Splinter even care?

Donnie shook himself fiercely. He needed back up there with his family. Much longer down in the alley and Donnie would snap again.

When Donnie pulled himself up, Mikey took immediate notice of the sharp, almost tangible pulses of unhappiness he emanated. As they began to walk further, he observed as Donnie frequently paused as his body was taken over by some strong emotion. He would tense, agony flaring in otherwise drained eyes, and take a deep breath before pushing onward.

Mikey, at last, dropped back to match his brother’s pace. He listed and gently brushed his arm with his own. “Hey,” he murmured, “you’re hurting, aren’t you?” Alarm, sudden and bright, flashed in Donnie’s eyes, and he vigorously swung his head before wincing.

Mikey bit back a sigh. What was so horrible about admitting you were in pain when you were very clearly hurt? Why was pride so important?  

He reached out and gently swatted his arm. Dummy, he thought affectionately. Donnie flinched and directed himself a bit away. The anguish that had planted itself in his eyes seemed to go a bit deeper than physical…

And, then, Mikey could have hit himself. Of course! Of course… Donnie had every right to be upset. He had lost his mind for a good two weeks and, as far as he could assume, behaved like an absolute animal. Then, they failed to get some precious substance that would grant him his normal self.

Mikey frowned and shot Donnie an apologetic glance. The least he could do was keep pace and walk with his brother, unlike the others. He again went to brush his arm. “I’m sorry,” Mikey whispered.

Donnie halted, slowly raising his formerly bowed head. After a second, his lip turned upward in a small, frail, half-hearted smile. He took one step toward Mikey, inhaled deeply, and went to press his nose to his shoulder.

But, then, he jerked himself back, the grief in his eyes renewing with more intensity than ever. His face contorted in a grimace, and he ducked his head and shook himself. He avoided Mikey’s outstretched hand and prepared to hobble after the others, who had paused at the edge of the roof, observing silently.

“Donnie— Donnie, wait.” Mikey hurried after him, struggling to keep up—despite his limp, his long limbs and determination to escape him kept him ahead. Mikey shot his family a face of exasperation before he put his one last surge of energy into lunging forward and clutching his brother’s arm. Only then did he stop, turning his head to give Mikey a dull, sullen look.

“Donnie, it’s fine. It’s okay.” Mikey tightened his grip, and Donnie’s tensed muscles seemed to relax a bit.

“It’s okay, as long as you… you're…” He paused, searching for the right words. “It’s fine,” he started again, “as long as you’re still Donnie.”

For some reason, Donnie melted at that, letting out a series of soft, short exhales that could be taken as a kind of laughter. When he raised his head, fresh warmth overpowered everything in his eyes and made them glow. Now that they weren’t brimming with strong evidence of his lack of rule, Mikey thought they were brilliant— a startling baby blue, riddled with veins of every other shade of blue imaginable, a flare of the lightest azure surrounding his almond-shaped pupils that were presently narrowed in affection. At last, he allowed himself to fondle his little brother.

Then he limped away after a final look, a haze dimming the shine in his eyes.  

“Whoa,” Raph murmured. Then, only a little louder, he said, “Come look at this.”  

Many figures dressed in black and wreathed in shadows darted among the umbras, a darker mass tucked under their arms. From fissures, they could see a green-blue glow illuminating the inside of the crates.

“Mutagen?” Mikey muttered. He narrowed his eyes. “Are they taking it out of the van or putting it in?” Truly, the scene below was hectic.

“I don’t know.” Leo gave them a swift, sideways glance. “But it’s mutagen. We need it.”

“And, anyway,” Raph added, “they’re probably not gonna do good with it.”

Leo nodded and then gazed over. “April?”

“Maybe,” she muttered absently, her more complete attention on the people. She gripped the edge so tightly her knuckles were white.

Leo blinked and crawled closer to his brother who rested a little off. “Donnie, what do you think?”

But Donnie had been swept up and stolen by the haze, and he didn’t even respond in the slightest way. Leo turned to give the others a concerned glance. And, then, he reached out and pressed his palm to Donnie’s neck and repeated his name.

This time, he jerked, blinking rapidly and shaking his head. He turned back toward Leo, his head tipping, already being reclaimed.

“Donnie,” Leo said briskly, “do you think we should fight?” Donnie’s arms moved strangely, and he stared at the ground momentarily, something like disappointment and confusion in his eyes, before his jaws parted in a massive yawn, revealing well his long, acute, pearly white ivories, a strikingly pink tongue, and, at least, his familiar, distinct tooth gap.

It had seemed like an attempt to shrug, and, in that case, Donnie had no present valuable input. It puzzled Leo. He was certain it wasn’t any bestial instinct clouding his mind; Donnie was tired. They all were, definitely. But why could he just barely function? His lethargy was on and off, and Leo didn’t understand, really.

But he knew that those people needed to be stopped.

And, maybe, his team could benefit beyond the excellent sense of justice.

“O-Okay, Donnie, okay. Stay here, all right? We’ll be back.” Donnie gave him a faintly disturbed look, and he opened his jaw like he was going to speak. But he succumbed to another yawn before he could even attempt, and Leo waved the rest off.

The urge to lay his heavy head down was overwhelming, and, for just a second, Donnie did just that. But he dragged himself out of the appealing, tempting corner of unconsciousness that called his name and offered peace.

Leo had gone— they’d all gone. Donnie’s eyes narrowed. Did they expect him to not notice? All he had done was yawn and drift off momentarily.  His frustration with Leo renewed, and a huff escaped him. As his head cleared, the sounds of a scuffle, at last, reached him. So that’s where they’ve gone.

He struggled to his feet and crept forward, peering over the edge to investigate the noises of battle. As soon as he came to the brink, the cries cut off abruptly.

An unmasked man stood erect alone in the center of the alley. His skin was stark against the dark material, his cheeks flushed. His yellow teeth were bared, and his words were so slurred and emotional Donnie couldn’t begin to comprehend. Judging by his face, the words were far from pleasant.

His face screwed up especially ugly then, and his voice rose in a strident, raucous tone. Ow.

April darted forward and delivered a roundhouse kick, ending his monologue suddenly. The human was forced back, and he let out one cry, twitched, and then lay still.

Donnie leaned forward as admiration for the girl fought past the dominant weariness. She improved so quickly it was almost absurd. At least his Sensei had found a more suitable, able student to take his place.

The pain that clenched Donnie’s heart was nothing he had ever expected. He swayed and tipped forward.

He broke out of his state with a yelp, and he frantically scrabbled backward. He heard several of them call, but he didn’t acknowledge them, now trembling in a hunch.

God. He was bleeding. From several wounds now that had just ceased. And his pads were bleeding now too, the lesions at last pushed past their point. They stung so badly and ugh he just wanted to sleep.

He winced. It was getting worse. He dipped his head and started to rasp his tongue over the abrasions, just trying to soothe them. And, also, it did bring him some comfort, which was quite welcome.

Donnie felt like he’d never want to go on patrol again. Certainly not in this form, and very much not in his… his normal body.  

Never again.

“Dude.” Donnie looked up briefly as Mikey trotted up to him. He fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around Donnie’s neck. “You really need to keep away from roof edges.”

Donnie paused, staring at the concrete for a moment before twisting to rest his head on Mikey’s side. Quickly, though, he shakily rose. The contact was wonderful and nice —oh so nice—but it brought the sleepiness crashing back, and that was not a place he wanted to return to yet. It made them assume he was brain-dead; Donnie didn’t need that.  

Looking over, the other three had joined them. They seemed reassured by his reaction to Mikey and didn’t ask. April held a canister of mutagen, a little more than a quarter full. Leo saw his gaze on the container and said, “Uh, that’s all we recovered. They actually kind of got away with a lot of it, and, uh, the rest of the stuff in the crates they left was just full of old junk from that warehouse. But, I think it’ll do.”

“Maybe,” Donnie wanted to add. He didn’t know if it’d be enough. But he was so tired all he could muster the will to feel was hope.

Splinter stood expectantly when they returned. His pricked ears flattened quickly as he spied his bedraggled sons. Raph held up the result of their effort, with a weary, forced, lop-sided grin. His arm shook, and it fell. Leo grimaced at the pathetic sight, and Donatello seemed asleep on his feet. Mikey clutched one arm and immediately pushed past the turnstiles. Raph followed, and, after rousing Donnie, Leo followed suit.

But Donatello stared in dismay at the turnstiles. Reluctantly, he tried delicately stepping over them, but he tripped just like the very first time, except he didn’t get up. Leo huffed and turned back. When he extended a hand, however, Donatello’s lip drew back, and a growl swelled in his throat. Leo withdrew quickly, and, as Donnie settled, he looked back to them with clear hurt in his eyes.  

“Let him,” Raph grumbled. “We’ll get him up later.” Leo gave Donnie one last upset glance before complying.

“Is Donatello all right?” Splinter’s voice was soft.

“I… I think. He’s really tired and hurt.”

“We all are,” Mikey muttered again.

Splinter’s gaze fell to his son’s injured arm. “Yes, I can see that.” He lowered himself into a kneel, gently taking the limb. To the two others, he said, “Please try to bring Donatello over here.”

As they limped toward their brother, Mikey said, “It just started hurting really bad. I don’t know why it did now and not before.”

After a few moments, he began biting his lip. Then, shortly, he leaned forward. “Sensei?” When Splinter glanced up, he continued. “April got Donnie back… Sensei, that’s our Donnie.”

He paused, his hands hovering over the wound. He gave Michelangelo a long, searching look before bringing his attention to his three sons. Donatello had brought his head up, and his gaze was on Raph.

“Donnie, please.” Leo crouched. “Sensei asked for you.”

At that, Donatello’s eyes lit up in something like panic, and his scrabbling, backward movements toward the turnstiles were almost desperate.

Raph said, “What is wrong with you now? It’s just Splinter. He’s not gonna bite your head off.” Donnie lurched forward painfully as though some extreme force had managed a blow to his stomach.

Splinter’s ears completely pressed to his skull. “Do you know what has Donatello upset?”

“I…” Mikey seemed confused. “I thought it was the obvious ‘I lost my mind and acted like an animal,’ but I don’t why that’d upset him so much when you’re mentioned.”

Splinter almost stood, gave the injury on Mikey’s arm one look, and then settled. The flesh was raw and angry around the open gash, and it needed prompt tending to. As soon as Donatello at last succumbed.

Glancing over, he was in time to see his double-mutated son climb to his feet with a grunt, baring his teeth. His other two children stuck by their brother as he picked his way over painfully.

Immediately, Splinter noted Donatello was deliberately avoiding his gaze. Gingerly, he released Mikey’s arm and moved to him, softly murmuring, “Donnie?” He was taken aback by the bitterness that gleamed in his son’s eyes, and his hand recoiled. Donatello hadn’t met his gaze, but he glowered at Splinter’s chest. Then, for the barest moment, he eyes darted up. And then the contact was gone. But his features had softened, and he squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced. His claws scraped against the ground, and, when Splinter glanced downward, surprise flickered in his chest.

The sight pushed him to put the idea “they need medical attention” into motion. He silently assessed them and determined Michelangelo needed attention first, then Leonardo, Donatello, and Raphael.

“Set the canister down, Raphael. I will store it later.”

He expected some retort, but Raph obeyed without even a noise of a complaint.

On the contrary, Donatello did not want to rise, and, when he finally did, it was after a series of frustrated, angry snorts and huffs.

If his son was present, he would need a stronger filter and more control. Splinter would have a talk with him and perhaps find some advice to offer.

But only after he discovered the source of Donatello’s fear and anger, or it at least calmed.

Donatello’s mind was a muzzy mess of anger and pain and animalistic desire and self-hatred and guilt and so much more pain. He had had clear moments, but, at this point, he was actually asleep on his feet.

He knew they’d make him stay up, and it made him angry. Why couldn’t they just let him sleep?

He stumbled going up the dojo steps.

Sleep was all he wanted. Relief from the pain came second. He was convinced he would kill to get an hour of rest.

Donnie could only make it as far as the tree before his limbs gave out and he collapsed, and he had only been driven by will kindled by some inclination.

Like he had anticipated, his older brothers came over, quietly asking him to stay awake. He thought he owed them something for all they’d done tonight, so he didn’t snap at them.

But he wanted Mikey too. Where was Mikey? He twisted, searching for him. But he grew tired, and his head fell once more. His chin rested on his paws.

God, he was tired.

He yearned for his bed like never before. His warm, soft, comfy bed. But the floor seemed pretty comfy right now too. He’d have to tolerate the floor tonight. It could be worse. The mats took the edge off of the cold stone. And… he didn’t feel like coming up with any other reason. It was as good as he’d get for a while now.

Donnie drifted off further for a while. His brothers roused him often, and it jolted Donnie out the haze for a moment before he slipped away again. It was an unbroken cycle until it was his turn and Splinter’s unexpected touch sent him jerking away.

His broad, fur-coated face and wide, concerned brown eyes upset the peaceful daze into which Donnie had retreated. The remorse crashed back down with all the force from before— even more, with his rat father right in front of him.

“Donatello,” he said, though the former scarcely heard. “I must tend to your wounds.” He came closer despite Donnie’s whine. Quieter, he said, “I do not know why you are so frightened of me, but I promise I only wish to help you.”

His hands were gentle, lightly skimming over the injuries he found. But Donnie still shuddered. What if he knew? he thought in cadence. What if knew? What if he knew?

“Donatello,” he at last consulted. “Are you all right? I am not hurting you, am I?” Donnie trembled, and Splinter sighed.

A soft palm pressing against his neck alarmed him, and he jumped once more, huffing hoarsely.

It was as though the contact allowed Splinter’s own injury to seep through his fingertips and overwhelm an already exhausted and disheartened Donnie. Did he really care so much if his least favorite son was injured or anxious?

Donnie was even more perplexed when Splinter began to gingerly stroke his neck. Raising his gaze momentarily, he caught the frown of genuine concern.

At this, Splinter went back to his injuries, leaving Donnie to wonder why his father only now chose to show a scrap of consideration for him.

There was a scuffling and a lack of physical contact. Something rustled. And, then, the sensation of fresh pain swept over him.  

Donnie froze, tensed, and grunted. Splinter paused, muttering a quiet apology before resuming.

The pain dulled as he grew accustomed to rhythmic movements. He managed to relieve his fiery muscles a little bit.  

And, at some point, Donnie slipped away into blissful unconsciousness, free from the agonizing, strong emotions and the horrible, horrible instincts that made him slaughter a poor, poor rat.

Dark Raph/Dark Leo possibility?

I know I’m not the first to the party but damn 

I’m overloading with the possibilities!

.Dark Leo would be amazing, Raph, Don and Mikey would face the stress and fear of having their older brother and leader working for the Shredder. Raph’s anger and worry for Leo, Donnie’s frantic search for an antidote and poor Mikey upset about the whole scenario.Master Splinter grieving over another loss. And while I would watch the hell outta that scenario- I kinda hope it won’t be Leo as well. He’s been through a lot and equally his brothers have grown when he wasn’t leading them for that short period of time. I feel it would be a little too repetitive for him to be under Shredder’s control. Equally when he comes back to normal he’d feel like it was all his fault- again something we are used to.

Dark Raph! 

This is what I want baby- and my reasons why? Sit back and read lovelies. We all know Raph’s temper and we all know he struggles to control it at times.

We also know the softer undertone to his personality. The best example I can give (Though you and I both know there are many) 

*cough*

- is at the farm house. While Leo was out and even after he did his best for everyone. He took care of Leo 

-and kept Mikey and Donnie on their toes at the same time.

so while anger is essentially his fatal flaw, his brothers have always pulled him out of it. However, if he was to completely lose himself to that anger, fall victim to Shredder’s mind control, he’d be a force to reckon with. None of his brothers would want to fight him and yet he’d be so lost that he could potentially hurt one of them- it would be interesting to see the consequences after. He’s always been the raging protector, so to be the cause of their hurt would be very painful for him. We’ve seen a snippet of this when Mikey got hurt when he was “in charge”. Raph was so terrified at that moment that he froze. 

And yet-

I could be being too adventurous here…

Technically we’ve seen the brothers being controlled. (I’m gonna ignore ‘A Chinatown Ghost Story’ here.) In Parasitica, Leo, Raph and Donnie all were essentially (Obviously it’ll be more serious if Shredder’s involved) . 

We didn’t see Mikey fall to this as he thankfully cured himself and minutes later his brothers.

So

Consider this….

What if,

Dark Mikey!

Yes I went there, I said it. (Still want that Dark Raph though). It would be interesting though right? Rouge baby brother, a character so cheery suddenly unnaturally icy and filled with hate- or perhaps a happy yet twisted taunting figure. They could attempt some serious character development if this route is chosen. Why? Well Mikey is essentially the heart of the family, his attitude ironically keeps his elder brothers on their toes, he has a warm, close relationship with each of his bros, he’s most affectionate by far

 and he is always (funnily enough) consistent and eternally optimistic. Sometimes he gets things and understands things better than others- helping them overcome hurt.

Other times he’s there to help out.

most of all he’s there to provide laughter, cheer and those ‘god my little brother’s annoying’ moments. 

Even when times get tough you’ll find him goofing off and watching tv or something along those lines. Personally, I think this is to keep a sense of optimism and normalcy in the air….but what if this is ripped from the unsuspecting elder brothers? The entire family would be put under so much strain, knowing that the youngest is at the beck and call of Shredder (in close proximity of merciless people), knowing he’s being controlled, having to go through the day with no pranks or any disturbances. I think that would be something that they wouldn’t want to even dream of….

I’ll just go now and leave you with all your feels.

(But seriously Nick please please please please dark someone *cough possibly Raph cough* please please)

Wake me up, when September ends….

In honor of the finale and the new ep on Sunday and my Birthday today, wait what here’s a little piece I doodled then put more love into after watching Annihilation: Earth. I just thought of this song and how it fit, plus thought about what that first night would’ve been like for these guys; rather than get cozy in some beds, they pile together so they’re not apart. 

2

BRITTANY AND I have started a new TMNT au–SPACE AU.  I designed Donnie and Raph, and Britt designed Mikey and Leo.

Expect a fed up and pissy engineer Donnie, a bodyguard and morally good Raph, a wise cracking con man Mikey, and an ambiguously antagonistic space pirate Leo. 

Ancora Imparo.

I am still learning.

— 

Michelangelo Buonarroti.

This one of the most important things that you can ever remind yourself of. The human mind is designed to acquire knowledge and, the moment it ceases to be fed, it grows stale and sedentary. So ensure that, however you choose to live you life, you are continually presented with new experiences and fresh sources of information. Whether it be how to correctly tie a knot, about the first Emperor of China’s proclivity for consuming mercury or maybe just what it feels like to have your heart broken for the third time in a row, learn!