triceraton gun

Oneshot: “Possible Side Effects May Include Loss of Inhibitions and Memory Loss”

I wrote a thing and actually published it! It’s only take me… a month.

This is a b-day pressie for @onthespectrumwriting , after I ran an idea for a oneshot by them that I decided not to use for LGBT TMNT Week for reasons. You can read it on AO3 here!

In the meantime here’s a snippet for you

In her time aboard the Ulixes, April had learned that there was only so much that you could take from a two-page article about proper heatsink care for the guns mounted in your forearms. Today, it only takes two and a half paragraphs of such an article before she loses it and throws the latest issue of Robot Health aside. Stupid turtles. Stupid Fugitoid. Stupid space racism.

Left behind. They were left behind again. Again. The turtles got to investigate a distress signal on a rogue planet with the professor while she and Casey, unfortunate enough to be humans, were left behind. Again. And what was their excuse? Because, “Traxcians despise terrans.” Of course they did. Why should they cater to a cargo ship that needed rescuing anyway? They don’t like terrans? Tough luck, they’re coming to rescue you! But no. She and Casey were left behind to “guard the ship” as Leo had tried to negotiate. Exactly what did they expect them to do on the off chance their cloaking malfunctioned and they were found and boarded? Challenge intruders to a baseball game when Casey ran out of proton pucks? Pistol-whip a triceraton when April’s gun inevitably ran out of charge?

This is all a load of bull. So much so that neither of them bother to wait in the cockpit this time. Leave two bored and angry teenagers alone on a spaceship? Fine. The turtles can go have fun rescuing some stranded thick-skulled rigid space racists. She and Casey can have their own fun with a massive TV and a food machine powered by imagination all to themselves and talk trash about talking turtles as much as they want.

…Maybe she shouldn’t be so angry. She doesn’t like being angry. She’s not sure anyone really does. (Except maybe Raph but who knew with that hothead.) But April has been training her ass off to catch up with her ninja friends, and she’s been hitting more bullseyes than all of the boys put together. Not to mention Casey, who’s been really invested with his photon pucks and figuring out the many variations of ammunition he can make of them. They’re part of this team. They’ve worked hard to prove how much they’re a part of this team. And they’re still left to guard a ship that doesn’t need guarding. Way to make your friends feel important, guys. Stupid, stupid shell-headed guys.

There’s a loud clinking over the sound of footsteps. Casey walks down the stairs from the “kitchen” to the lounging area with a massive load of food-loot. Bags and bags of snacks with alien-language packaging are barely tucked under his arms, and in each hand are about four spirally bottles of fizzing purple juice. He walks around the couch and stands in front of her with a massive and devious grin, a grin only hindered by the three bags dangling by their corners between his teeth.

“Is this all from the backup food store?” April asks, reaching up to catch the bags from Casey’s mouth. She takes a closer look at the snacks even though there’s not much point. Without her gear she can’t translate any of these. “What happened to the “truckload of pizza” you were gonna cook up?“

"Magic machine’s busted,” Casey explains, lifting his arms and dumping the rest of the food on the couch and onto the floor.

“What did you do?”

Casey’s hands snap up in front of him immediately, the bottles making concerning loud clinks as glass hits glass. “Nothing! I swear!” he exclaims in defence. All April does in response is raise an eyebrow. “…It was an accident.”

April groans. “Casey.”

“I didn’t hit it or anything!” He carefully sets the bottles on the floor as he talks. “I just… there should be a warning on that thing. Doesn’t like it when you’re pissed off, I guess.”

The guilt radiates off him so strong that he could be glowing, but April also senses the truth in his words. She also knows Casey better than to just break stuff that wasn’t his. On purpose. “What happened? Did it just refuse to make anything?”

“Nah, it… exploded? Food-exploded. Looked almost as bad as the garbage Mike thinks up. Had to hit the trash button before I barfed.” He falls onto the other side of the pile opposite April and grabs a bag at random. “So I went and raided Fugidude’s fridge stash.”

April takes another look at the food pile. “How much of it did you raid?”

“You hungry or not, Red?”


“Relax, it’s only like a fifth of the stuff he’s got crammed in there.” Casey rips open his bag and plunges his hand in. “He said to use it if the vender fritzed, and it did, so bon appetite!” And he starts stuffing his face.

There’s a couple snacks that April recognises from their alien movie night downtime. Veleran twistpuffs, some green tortilla-chip lookalikes that taste sort of like carrots… but everything else she isn’t entirely sure is edible. The professor had reassured them his food purchases had revolved around their biology and nutritional needs, but April still exercises caution. Wait. Was that a ninja thing?

April snatches a bag of twistpuffs and digs in. Casey’s right, she’s hungry, so who cares?

After a few dry mouthfuls of crunchy alien pastry bites, April remembers the bottles and reaches down to grab one. Trying to read the label does as much good as it had done for the snack bags. “Any idea what this stuff even is?”

Casey eyes the bottle and shrugs. “Purple?”

“Top notch deduction there.”

He smirks and takes a bottle off the floor himself. He unscrews the bizarre looping lid and takes a sniff. “…Huh.”


“Smells like orange. Go figure.” He holds his bottle out. “Cheers?”

April smiles and unscrews her own bottle. “Here’s to our brave friends, fighting tooth and shell to save the universe without us.”


April clinks her bottle with Casey’s. “Huge gaping assholes.”

Once again you can find the rest of the fic here!