Whatever You Do, Make Sure You Turn Down The Volume

Anyone remember when Sirius played that prank on Snape and almost got him killed? Yeah..

So I wrote a little thing about it and I figured, why not post it here?

Warning: Suicidal thoughts/ideations, and swearing

He wanted to say he was drunk.

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“He couldn’t control wether or not he listened.”

But he wouldn’t.. he couldn’t, he knew he was stone cold sober. He knew he’d given it too much thought to even try to pass it off as a joke. He debated telling him before he made up his mind, while he was walking to meet him. Hell, he was still debating it while he told him where to go for the next full moon.

He didn’t think it would be this bad.

His intention was never to get Snape hurt- Sirius genuinely believed that he would’ve stayed hidden and just watched.

…

He never thought he would be staring at Snape, a single bloody scratch on his arm, scared.. hell, he looked terrified. And he was glaring daggers at Remus, a scowl plastered on his face.

He’d have been dead if James hadn’t intervened and saved him. Sirius didn’t even try to help, he just stood there, like an idiot.

…

James yelled at him, a lot. Which was fine. He could handle yelling.. if he could handle his parents, he could handle this. And he knew, he knew he fucked up, so he didn’t say anything. What could he say?

Peter didn’t talk to him much anymore, (no one did) but he didn’t glare daggers at him either.

Remus though? His reaction had to have been the worst. He hasn’t spoken to him in days, not since he found out- not since he told him to get out of the infirmary the morning after. He’s been giving him the silent treatment, avoiding him, refusing to talk to him no matter what Sirius does.

He won’t even look at him for fucks sake.

He doesn’t know what to do.

He does know- it’s only fair. Because of something he did, Remus attacked Snape, and his boyfriend needed his own space to deal with that. Still, it didn’t stop him from feeling so.. alone.

He hadn’t felt this way in a while, not at school at least, but now..? He was eating meals alone in the great hall, he had to listen to Remus, James, and Peter talking for hours, laughing, planning pranks, studying, and he couldn’t say anything, because if he did? They’d all shut up. No one would answer him. On the rare occasion they did answer him- it was always school related, short, clipped, and straight to the point. Still, it was obvious they wanted to be anywhere else. Anywhere but here, with Sirius.

They weren’t the only ones who knew. Lily, Marlene- bell, even Mary found out about it, and they wouldn’t talk to him either. Fucking Regulus, his own brother was disappointed in him. He’d made a point to stop talking to him, making it clear that he stood behind Remus.

His own brother picked his best friend over him.

Which brought him to now.

He was sitting at the edge of the astronomy tower, like he had for the past two nights, his feet dangling in the frigid, cold air.

It would be better for everyone, right? His best friends (could he even call them that anymore?) acted like they hated him. his boyfriend refused to talk to him. His brother was apathetic and disappointed, even strangers refused to talk to him.

He fucked up, big time, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to fix it. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to talk to Remus again. To have James look at him with a mischievous grin, rather than a disappointed scowl. To talk to his brother without the prank being brought up, held over his head like a weapon.

He stared, looking at the ground. Would it hurt to die? Probably. But once you’re falling, he supposed, there’s no going back.

He wondered if it would be instant, or if he’d have to endure unimaginable agony until he died.

He snorted to himself, laughing softly. He dropped his head, letting it hang down by his chest. It’s not like he wouldn’t deserve it.. the pain. Maybe it could make up for what he did, even if it’s just a few minutes.

He didn’t notice tears falling down his face until his shoulders were shaking. He clutched onto the side of the floor, his vision blurred while he looked out at the night.

It hurt.

Loneliness hurts.

Even though he knew he messed up- he wanted to forget it. He wanted to laugh and joke with his friends, plan stupid pranks to pull on Snivelus. He wanted to gossip with the girls, have a place to sit at meals, to be the class clown again.. he wanted his friends back. He wanted the love, the affection he was so used to having. He wanted his brother back.

He wanted Remus to look at him. Even if it was with hate, or anger, or annoyance- he couldn’t handle the silent treatment anymore. He just wanted him to acknowledge that he existed, that maybe he was having a bad time too, to know that the guilt Sirius felt was so overwhelming it was the only thing he could think about, ever. He wanted his boyfriend. But he knew he had to give him space.

It was a little hard to say any of that when every time he tried, he was shut down. He’d almost reverted to begging Remus to yell at him, just let all his anger out- hit him even, maybe that would make them both feel better- but he hadn’t got past opening his mouth before Remus had got up and left the room.

They made it clear nothing Sirius could ever do would fix this, or speed up whatever grieving- or healing they had to do. Everyone had to come around on their own terms.

He wasn’t sure he’d be here when that happened.

Sirius knew the prank didn’t hurt him, it didn’t mess with him, scare him, traumatize him, or risk expulsion- but he’s been stripped of everyone he cared about. He’s been banished from social situations, temporarily banned from being a marauder, and shamed for giving the Gryffindor students a bad name- by everyone that knew what happened, at least.. by more people than he would’ve liked.

He felt bad for himself, he did. Even if he knew he deserved it- he wanted them all back so badly.

“I really fucked up this time, didn’t I, Moony?”

He choked out, staring at the bright, white ball in the sky. He sniffed, rubbing the tears off his cheeks, blinking harshly.

It was getting late, he ought to head back inside. Even if he knew nothing good was waiting for him, even if he knew it meant enduring another day of silence, contempt, and loneliness. Even if he knew he’d end up back here the next night, waiting until he gained the strength to jump..

He got up and went back inside, because maybe- maybe today Remus would look at him without scowling. Maybe James would give him a friendly grin. Maybe Peter would say more than a word to him. Maybe his brother would talk to him again.

Maybe.

God, it sounded stupid- but maybe was all he had, it was the only thing he could hang on too. So with the promise of a new day and another chance for a maybe, he dragged himself back to the common room. His steps were quiet as he climbed the stairs, not a single person noticing his absence or return. As he slipped under the covers, he did his best to fight off the loneliness threatening to consume him.

Hope you enjoyed! You can also find this on ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64891168

I was so disappointed with the aftermath of Stiles possession. Not only did it feel kinda rushed, it was just an “oh the bad guys gone and now Stiles is totally fine time to move on!” type of situation. Like no. I know they exorcized void, but give me something!! Please!!

Since I am a writer and deranged, I took the Whumpay prompt “Psychic Link” to create this short drabble about possible after affects from his possession, so yk

SCOTT MCCALL IS NOT AN ASSHOLE IN THIS!!! WE LOVE SCOTT!!

Tw: Mentions of losing time/slight dissociation

Stiles never felt the same after void.

He knew, logically, that he was gone. They’d banished him. But sometimes he wasn’t so sure.

Most of the time he felt normal, he went about his life like usual, helping out the pack where he could. Sometimes though.. sometimes he said things- did things, that he couldn’t control. School presentations ending in detention, instigating a fight at one of Lydia’s parties, snapping at Scott for no reason. He remembered it all, but it didn’t feel like him, rather it felt like he was a passenger in his own mind.

He tried not to worry, coming up with excuse after excuse when his friends asked if he was okay.

“I’m just tired, don’t worry about it.”

“I had a bad day- sorry for snapping.”

“I pulled an all nighter, I don’t think my brains working at its top capacity if you know what I mean.”

“Dammit, I forgot to take my meds.”

Was he telling the truth? Mostly, he was just distorting the actual affects of said actions. He didn’t want to worry his friends- void was supposed to be behind them all. Void needed to be in the past, or Stiles would start freaking out.

The dreams started pretty soon after the behavioural issues. Confusing and quick, flashes of things Stiles didn’t remember, yet seemed too real to be fake. Sometimes he dreamt that he was higher than life, watching the world from a birds perspective. He had dreams about flying, feeling the wind on his body like it he was actually there. These dreams made him wary, some part of him thought they could still be linked. With what they did to the Nogitsune… it was possible, but he still wasn’t convinced.

Things got concerning when he started losing time. It was never like it was before, losing hours or days, waking up in places he didn’t recognize. No, this was smaller, subtle.

The first time he was walking with Scott on their way to practice. He blinked, and suddenly he was a couple feet further than he had been. He brushed it off, thinking maybe he had just zoned out for a second. He convinced himself that he was fine. Void was gone.

It kept happening. He never lost more than a minute, but every time it happened he grew more and more concerned. Stiles knew he should tell someone, but how was he supposed to say it? Hey guys, I know we exorcised Void but I think he might still be here. Oh no, it’s not a big deal, I just black out every once in a while. Oh, also I can’t control what I say or do sometimes. No no, you don’t need to worry ‘cause it’s really not that bad, I’m just letting you know. Anyway, what’s up with you lately?

Yeah. No way.

He was going to deal with this by himself if it killed him.

..Okay, maybe not, because saying that never ended well for anyone. He’d deal with this until it got worse. Like, Void possessing him levels worse. Hopefully it would never get to that point, and Stiles could just move on with his life and forget about everything that happened with the dumb Nogitsune. Right?

Wrong.

Stiles had been at the wolf house, taking a day to hang out with everyone. Everyone wanted some time to just be teenagers (Derek not included). They brought snacks, watched movies, and caught up with the normal things in life. Someone mentioned Isaac and things got quiet for a second, the air tense with his recent departure. Shortly after that the chatter resumed, if a little less excited than it was before. Stiles had excused himself, heading to the kitchen to get some water. He blinked, and suddenly Scott was in front of him, shaking his shoulders and calling his name.

“-iles? Stiles! Dude! Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, Jesus Scott, you wanna stop screaming my ear off?” Stiles said, pushing himself out of Scott’s hold. The Alpha looked sheepish for a second before he asked quietly.

“You alright dude?”

Stiles shrugged, giving him an easy smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Scott didn’t look impressed with that answer, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You were just holding a knife.”

Stiles stopped, his smile dropping. Fuck him.. “Yeah well, it was a nice knife.” He said, trying desperately to deflect. He knew he should tell him- but come on, cut a guy some slack!

“Stiles.” Scott said, sternly. “What’s going on?”

He paused, fidgeting with his hands as he looked around the kitchen. He could see the knife he presumed he was holding set onto the counter, it was a chopping knife. Of course. He looked behind Scott and that’s when he noticed the rest of the pack. Derek was leaning against the wall, Lydia had her arms crossed, standing next to him. Kira was standing behind Lydia with a worried expression. Of course, their eyes bore into his. It felt like he was suffocating. They weren’t saying anything but he could feel the disappointment, the worry, the fear.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a second before he finally responded. “Look- maybe..“ he paused, sighing. “Okay, I know we got rid of Void, the ritual worked, right?”

He saw everyone’s uneasy expressions, Derek pushed off the wall with narrowed eyes, his mouth pressed into a tight line. Somehow Stiles felt like he was judging him the most.

“Well,” he continued, looking at the wall beside him. “I don’t think we got rid of all of him- I dunno, maybe there’s some after effects from getting possessed that no one told me about.”

The silence was deafening, he could feel everyone’s eyes on him like he was a frog laid out on a dissection table. He shifted on his feet, looking down at the floor. Scott was the first one to break the silence.

“Stiles.. why didn’t you tell us?” He sounded hurt, like someone had just told him that his dog was dead. Stiles shrugged, absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on his pants.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal, I didn’t want to worry you.” He said, finally looking up. Lydia moved forward, a sad expression on her face. She held out her arms and pulled him into a hug, tucking her face into his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist. Even though the hug was unexpected, it was nice.

“Of course we’re going to worry, you’re our friend.”

He pretended that word didn’t hurt, turning his head into her hair just enough that it wasn’t weird. His hands tightened around her before he slowly let go, mourning the loss once she fully pulled away. She held her hands on the side of his face, giving him a look that spoke volumes.

“We handle this kind of stuff together, right? You should’ve told us. We could’ve figured this out so much sooner.” Her voice was kind but clearly upset, clouded with emotion Stiles couldn’t quite understand.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. Their eyes were still locked together but she sighed, pulling her hands away with a small smile. “Good. Next time I hope we don’t have to find you holding a giant knife.”

“Let’s hope there is no next time.” Derek piped up from the back. His arms were crossed over his chest, but his face was relaxed, giving Stiles a knowing look.

Scott clapped a hand onto his shoulder, giving it a firm shake. Stiles looked at him with a half smile, putting a hand over his. He was glad he finally told them, he felt.. better in a way, like he didn’t have to carry this burden on his own. He felt light, but he was tired and so, so drained.

“We’re going to deal with this together. Alright?” Scott said firmly. His voice was reassuring and left no room to argue. Stiles rolled his eyes but his smile got just a little bit brighter, giving the hand under his own a pat. He nodded at his best friend in understanding and relief, he really should’ve done this sooner.

“Together.”

You can also find this on Ao3 :P

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65344081

My sister was watching the fifth season of the 2012 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and imma be real with y’all I forgot how devastating the mutation apocalypse was. That shit was emotional hit after emotional hit. DONNIE BEING A ROBOT?? You’re telling me. This man is now a robot? Like FOREVER???

So you’re saying he’s immortal. He’s going to have to watch all of his brothers die because he’s a freaking machine!?!? WHAT

Safe to say I have some strong emotions on the subject, and what better way to deal with them then whumping Donbot during Whumpay <3

Tw: Suicidal thoughts, and questioning reality

(Side note: one of these days I’ll figure out how to use italics and bold text on Tumblr- cuz this fic has some heavy italics- but today is not that day 🫡)

2,644 days.

7 years, 2 months, and 3 weeks.

That’s how long it’s been since Mira’s death.

His metal feet sunk into the sand, small bits getting stuck in his gears and wiring. He knew he’d have to clean it out later, the process would be long and tedious, requiring high air pressure and rusted tools, but right now he didn’t care.

He’d been alone far too long to care.

Donnie (was he still Donnie?) remembered the others. Their faces. Their voices. He remembered the way things were before the apocalypse.

Before he was metal. (Before his flesh was turned to steel, his veins to wires, his tendons to gears- before he became nothing more than a robot with a conscience.)

He couldn’t remember his own face. What did he look like? He knew he’d been tall, otherwise the metal body wouldn’t be tall. Did he have any scars? Moles? Mikey had freckles. Raph had that crack in his plastron. Leo still had the scuffs from Shredder throwing him through a window. (It was Shredder, right?)

What did he have?

…

He couldn’t remember his voice. He could hear the robotic, automated voice he was programmed with, but it wasn’t his voice. Even though he thought it was genius at the time, it wasn’t his. But it had been expressive, it sounded just enough like Donnie that he’d been happy with it.

He remembered the fear before he died, everything going black before he was looking through eyes that weren’t his own. He remembered.. he remembered his death. (Was it his death?)

Donnie remembered a lot of things. That’s the thing about being a robot, you can’t really forget. He used a data chip big enough to house the entire internet. He still remembered everything like it was yesterday.

Sometimes it still felt like yesterday.

Other times, he was reminded of his agonizing (not agonizing, he couldn’t feel, how could it be agonizing-) existence. Alone in a desert. Everyone he loved, dead. But he was still here.

(Who was he?)

Sometimes he wished he could die like the others, pull out a few wires, melt some circuits and be done.

He knew that wouldn’t work. He’d tried before, and all it did was cause unnecessary pain. (He can’t feel pain, he’s not real, he can’t feel pain-)

Sometimes he didn’t move- he just sat there, watching his memories like a slideshow.

The first day he met April.

The farmhouse.

Going to space.

Casey. His not-quite-friend not-quite-enemy. Someone he should’ve spent more time with, maybe gotten to know a little more. (He would’ve laughed. He spent too much time with him- his skull. It sat on the dashboard for years before Raph blew it up.)

He remembered Splinter. Sensei. Hamato Yoshi. His Father.

He remembered his voice, the way he’d hum when he pretended to be deep in thought. (Was it pretend?) He remembered his whiskers, every life lesson, every training session, every time he showed up when they needed help. He remembered the emergency cheese phone, the rat king, the deaths.

Donnie remembered his hugs. He wished he could feel them again.

(He couldn’t feel anything.)

The sun was blinding, bright and beating down onto his scuffed body, and Donnie walked. He knew the metal was heating up but he couldn’t feel it. He didn’t care.

The antennas twitched on his head, his arms swinging by his sides. Gears whirred, the worn metal groaned and creaked, but he wasn’t dead.

(He wanted to be dead.)

There was something so painfully mundane about his immortality. Days stretched for years but years felt like days. Everything blurred together. The people he’s met, the things he’s done. If he hadn’t installed an internal clock, he would’ve lost time years ago.

…

He missed his brothers.

Yes, he missed Splinter and April and Casey, but his brothers were… they were everything to him. It was them. The four of them. Against the world. They were everything to each other. Their rock. Their shoulder to cry on. Their biggest supporters. Their biggest bullies. They were family. They were each others flesh and blood.

(He wanted desperately to be flesh and blood.)

One by one they had all dropped, each of them passing in their own time.

Mikey had been the first to go. What was it… 15 years ago?

They were all crushed. He was the youngest. The baby of the family, the glue that kept them together, the person who kept a smile on their faces. He shouldn’t have died first.

But he did.

Donnie remembered Raph and Leo the night they found him. They were both crying ugly tears, yet they had been so silent Donnie almost didn’t notice.

They never cried.

They held each other then, giving each other the comfort Donnie couldn’t provide. He remembered sitting there, consumed in his own version of grief but unable to show it. He knew Mikey was gone- that he wasn’t coming back, and it hurt more than anything in the world. But he didn’t feel like it. He couldn’t feel it.

(He just wanted to feel it.)

He did his best to comfort his older brothers but.. there’s only so much to do when your hands are made of metal, and your voice is full of static.

He remembered for a few months how they doted on him. He was the youngest now. Donnie was the baby. Of course they never said it out loud, they didn’t want to take that title from Mikey, but Donnie knew. He knew that’s what they thought.

He didn’t want to be the youngest.

(He didn’t want to be alive.)

Leo had been next. The mutation wasn’t.. optimal for a long life span. It didn’t help that the grief had been suffocating, too much and too prominent with every movement he made. He’d been in a lot of pain before his body finally shut down.

He passed four months after Mikey did.

He remembered Raph the night they found Leo. He didn’t cry, not this time, and he didn’t scream. He was resigned. He’d turned to Donnie and clapped a hand onto his steel shoulder, giving him a grim smile.

“It’s just me and you now, D.”

(Donnie wanted to cry.)

Raph hadn’t gone for another few years, stubborn as always, even in death. He passed 12 years ago.

Maybe that’s why he was here- walking. The anniversary of Raphs death was the hardest. This date forever commemorating how he lost his brothers. Forever a reminder of Donnie’s solitude. His crippling immortality.

(Why couldn’t he let himself die that day?)

He looked up at the sight of a familiar structure, concrete and beautiful, a small body of water. The first place they had all stood, together, after being reunited.

He’d made it.

He was never sure how long it took to walk here, but he didn’t care.

(He couldn’t feel it anyway.)

In front of him stood a mural, the last thing Mikey had made before his passing. On it was the four of them, past and present. Or- past and past.

In one, they were all turtles. Splinter stood beside Leo. April next to Donnie. Casey leaning an arm on Raphs shoulder. Mikey was skateboarding right front and centre, he was in the middle of the picture. The heart of the team.

On the other side was them now. (But it wasn’t now, was it?) They were all standing in the same position, but Casey was gone, now replaced by Mira. Beside Donnie stood open air, and Leo’s body took up the space Splinter would’ve.

Donnie stared at the wall for a while. His eyes flicking between the two pictures. He wanted to go back to when times were simpler. He wanted flesh. And blood. He wanted to feel.

He wanted his own memory and his own thoughts. Not a computerized copy.

(But they were still his, weren’t they?)

(He was still Donnie.)

…

(Right?)

The lenses took in every detail, every paint chip, every mistake of Mikey’s brush, carefully fixed by another layer of paint. He wanted to cry.

(He couldn’t cry.)

He wanted to scream.

(His voice box rusted a long time ago.)

He wanted to rip himself apart. He wanted to take off the metal and find himself underneath.

Donnie.

He wanted to be Donnie.

…

(Who was he?)

If you want to see the properly emphasized version, you can also find this on Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65392465

I’m both. It gets a little confusing but it’s okay

The two types of Jason Grace fans

Somebody tell me.. come and give me a signnn

SING LEGENDARY FROM EPIC W/ ME! SING IN TH REBLOGS!!

It's just me, myself and I....

Was I the only one who saw Clash of the Mutanimals, yk the episode where Raph got mind controlled, and went: “Yeah. We need more of that. And make it angsty”

I would hope not because there is some serious potential there, but anyway I took that and the Whumpay prompt “Used as a weapon” to create this.. lovely, beautiful abomination.

TW: Swearing, scenes of violence, blood and injuries, mind control

He felt everything.

From the moment he woke up in Baxtors lab, to fighting his brothers. He felt it all. He saw it all.

He couldn’t control himself.

And now he stood at Shredder's side, wanting nothing more than to sink these god awful claws into his neck. Claws, stained with his own brothers blood. He wanted to tear that man apart, the man who forced him to hurt his own brother. To wound him with weapons that weren’t his. But he couldn’t. His arms hung by his side, fists balled, unable to move an inch without being told he could.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood here. It could’ve been ten minutes, it could've been an hour. Shredder sat, perched on his stupid throne while he spoke. Raph didn’t register what he said, too wrapped up in his own head.

To say he was livid would be an understatement.

He still remembered the feeling of Leo’s skin tearing- the sound, god, the way it tore through his muscle with such ease it left him reeling. It was bleeding so much, and the look on his face was nothing short of devastated. He wanted to reach out, to hold him, fuck, apologize for once- but he couldn’t. He didn’t even spare Leo a second glance before he turned his sights on his younger brothers. They managed to escape before he could do any more damage. Leo.. he’d been loosing too much blood. They had to retreat and leave them all. They had to leave him.

He couldn’t blame them, he would’ve done the same thing. God- he’d been so close to getting control, but Shredder gave him one command and he had to follow through.

“Enough of these games, Raphael. End it.”

Those words bounced around his head, closely followed by Leonardo’s screams. The shouts and shrieks from his younger brothers. The horror in Mikey’s voice, lunging for their leader. Donatello’s voice, accusing, full of disbelief and fear.

”Raph! What the hell did you do?”

He couldn’t get it out of his head.

Leo’s blood was still sticky on his face, coating the gauntlets with a dark red. There was a puddle on the floor below them.

Raph wanted nothing more than to sink these claws into Shredder and he couldn’t move. He was sure he’d be stuck here for hours, plotting murderous revenge with a face blanker than paper- until he was called by the very man who caused all this.

“Raphael.” Shredder's voice was firm, but he could hear the underlying threat. It’s not like I could resist, he thought bitterly. “Why don’t you go to the lab and make yourself useful.”

He couldn’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth. “Yes, master”

As it turns out, he was there to be a test subject. To make sure the brain serum was still working, still doing it’s job. Raph wanted to let out a bitter laugh. If it wasn’t working, they’d have known by now.

Nonetheless, Baxter had him strapped down. He was in no position to escape, but clearly these people had nothing better to do than take precautions. The metal was cold on his skin, the straps roughly digging into his flesh. He sat, his skin crawling with disgust and anger. The fly buzzed around the room, picking up strange tools, examining them closely before putting them down again in a seemingly unending cycle. Finally, the fly turned his attention to Raph, his beady eyes staring him down.

“Zz-stay zz-still, thizz izz going to hurt.”

When Baxter stuck a needle longer than his finger into his brain, he couldn’t scream.

——————————

He was strapped to the table. The same table as the day before. He growled, tugging harshly at the bonds but they didn’t budge, and he let out a frustrated yell.

“Now now zzz you won’t want to zzz do that.” The fly hovered a few feet away, swaying gently. In his hands he was holding a pair of tongs, within its grasp, the brain-worm wiggled around. Raphael’s eyes widened, once again thrashing in the restraints.

“Don’t you dare put that thing anywhere near me!” He screamed, his eyes were wide and he was heaving. He had gotten his control back (or had he?), and he felt nothing but anger. Of course, his internal plight did nothing to disway the bug, flying closer to him with a twitch of his head. “I’m warning you! You do that shit again and I’ll make sure to come after you first!”

“No you zzz won’t”, he held the tongs up to his head, “just zzsit zzstill.”

Raphael felt the slimey, rubber texture of the worm on his face and he almost threw up. “I’m serious- when my brothers show up you’re gonna regret this, fly-face!”

The worm held a steady course, wriggling slowly towards his ear. He could barely see it, wrinkled and gray, two black beady eyes with a sharp cone for a mouth. Raph’s body tensed up, his hands opening and closing around nothing. His eyes were wide and panicked, his breaths came out in harsh gasps, he couldn’t do this again, he couldn’t-

The worm's head dug into his ear canal, and he screamed. Its body was thick, pulsating and too hot. He was on fire. Like he’d just poured molten lava inside of his head, letting it seep in slowly. It wormed its way deeper and deeper into his skull, every passing second felt just like torture. Every inch was agonizing, every twitch sending bolts of pain into his brain. The sharp head pushed past his eardrum, bursting it without mercy, sending painful fireworks throughout his body. It was hot and sharp, pulsing and too tight, sliding deeper and deeper into the parts of his brain he’d never felt before. The tail end finally entered his head, and he almost threw up at the sensation. It felt like a rod was being shoved through his skull, into his brain, sliding, biting, crawling- and then it was gone.

The pain.

The pressure.

…

His control.

——————————

Raphael awoke in his bed. He’d been given a room by the dungeons. Plain. Nothing more than a bed and a dresser. (He knew it was because they didn’t trust him. They had him trapped under their control, and they still didn’t trust him. God, they were more paranoid than Donnie)

His eyes were blank, as always. He stretched his arms above his head, pops and cracks filling the air. It felt good, but his face was cold and blank. Finally he stood, shaking out his arms to loosen the joints. Every tendon ached, his muscles hurt, and his skin was smattered with purples and blues but Raph didn’t care. If anything it was nice, familiar.

Slash and Rockwell had escaped about five days ago- somehow, he wasn’t sure about the specifics- they’d broken through the mind control. Of course, Raph was sent to stop them with strict orders not to hold back. Slash was lucky enough to send him to the floor, giving the two just enough time to get away. Raphael had been a demon during the attack, taking every available opportunity, hitting every weak point, and he would’ve won. He was thankful he didn’t.

He had hoped they would go get his brothers. He remembered that night, locked in his room, left to deal with his wounds on his own, but he was hopeful. He thought they’d come back for him, that this never ending torture could finally be over. He waited all night. Then all day. And the next. And the next. And the next. Over and over, he went to bed hoping tonight would be the night. He told himself he just had to be patient. So he waited. And waited. And waited.

Their rescue never came.

He’s since resigned himself to this fate, but a small part of him was glad Slash and Rockwell weren’t trapped anymore. Even if a bigger part of him was jealous of their freedom.

His brain was on autopilot while he got ready, using a familiar wrapping technique with unfamiliar cloth. The last two weeks had been slow. He fought the Shredder too many times to count, and he always lost. Every fight with Rahzar, he lost. Every fight with Fish-Face, he lost. He always lost.

(The irony wasn’t lost on him. All he could do was wait, hope for a rescue, and lose to his enemies. He hated it.)

Sometimes he was sent on missions- recon, nothing more. Sometimes he got to kick some robot butt, taking all his anger out on the kraang droids. Sometimes he’d go on these missions and he knew his brothers had been there. Maybe it was a lingering smell, a wrapper from Mikey’s favourite gum, or a footprint in the dirt. The most obvious signs were destroyed kraang bots, show casing familiar cuts in the metal, courtesy of Leo’s katana’s. Or, less obvious, were the blunt marks from Mikey’s nunchucks and Donnie’s Bo staff. Every time he’d stand for a second, haunted with the knowledge that he had missed them by minutes. He was so close to seeing them again. No matter how much it hurt, he prayed that he never would- not when he was like this.

At the end of the day, id didn’t matter what he did, his night was always the same. He had to go to stupid Stockmans lab to get a stupid needle jammed into his skull, pumping a stupid purple solution into his brain until he felt woozy and numb.

It was a shitty schedule if you asked him.

He looked at the clock (the only non essential thing he had in the room), his eyebrows furrowing. He was due to start training in ten minutes, with whom, he wouldn’t know until he got there.

He looked down, unsurprised to see that he was almost ready. All he had left was the final touches. A black mask designed like his own, and the stupid pair of gauntlets that were still bloody. He tied the mask around his head with such hatred he almost ripped the fabric in half. Finally, he slid the awful yet familiar tools onto his hands, gripping the metal tightly in his palm.

He walked out of the room, slowly making his way to the training room. He pushed open the door, unsurprisingly, Fish-Face stood in the centre. The mutant had his hands together, raising one mechanical leg in the air. Was he doing.. yoga? Raph would’ve doubled over laughing, making fun of him and mocking the position if he could’ve, but whatever. He didn’t dare say anything (as if he could), and the fish enjoyed taunting him a little too much. Raph didn’t need to add anymore fuel to the fire.

“Here comes the turtle,” he mocked, grinning ear to ear. Raphael internally rolled his eyes, right on cue. “Bad sleep? Or are those just bruises from our last session?”

Raphael narrowed his eyes, but part of the action wasn’t his. He could feel his blood boiling under his skin, the anger screaming at him to let it out. He cracked his neck, holding the claws up in front of him. “Are we doing this or what?” He snapped, his face startlingly blank. Across from him Fish-Face smirked, the fight was on.

Raph would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy these sessions. He couldn’t land any life threatening hits, nor could he go for the face- but they never said anything about legs. He could kick them as much or as hard as he wanted, and a part of him knew that Leo would’ve been proud of his form. It was the small things like that which made this terrible experience bearable. Besides, he could use this to stay fit. So what if he got beat up in the process? It was nothing new.

As per usual, Fish-Face won, but not without some painful roundhouse kicks, flying back kicks, and a wicked axe kick on Raph’s part. It was during one of his jump kicks where both feet were off the ground when the stupid fish managed to throw him off balance, pinning him to the floor in seconds. He struggled, thrashing under his grip for a minute before he stopped, growling angrily. Fish-Face got off and gloated for what must've been the fifth time this week.

“Too easy. Are you even trying to fight back, turtle?” He laughed, watching the shorter man pull himself off the floor silently. “How the mighty have fallen..” he grinned, his eyes hiding something dark and malicious.

Raphael once again stayed silent, he didn’t talk back. He couldn’t. He didn’t roll his eyes. He just stared at him, blankly, waiting for his next order. He was mad, god knows he wanted to scream and attack the mutant, but he couldn’t even ball his fists. The fish sighed wistfully, enjoying this mental defeat of his personal nemesis. With a small chuckle, he began turning away.

“Master Shredder has a mission for you,” he started, walking off. Raphael, of course, followed him. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it, after all, you’ll get to see your brothers again.” He said it sadistically, a dark gleam in his eye that made Raph uneasy. What were they going to make him do? Lead them to the lair? Kill his father? Fight his brothers, again? Fat fucking chance. He’d rather kill himself before he let any of that happen.

“What does he need me to do?” He asked, monotone. He gave no reaction to the mention of his brothers. He wanted to scream. It had been two weeks since he saw them- since he hurt Leo. Two weeks of no contact, no autonomy, just guilt and anger. He was losing his mind. But the prospect of going back.. he was terrified, what if he couldn’t break out of this control? What if he hurt them? What if he killed them?

What would he do then?

“What do you think? Find and kill your family, of course.”

Raphael’s mind seemed to go blank. He should’ve expected that answer. Of course, they’d want him to eliminate his family. They were the Shredder's greatest enemies- and without family, Raph wouldn’t have anything to fight for. He’d be stuck as a mindless slave for eternity and his brothers would be gone. Raph would’ve paled, would’ve stopped walking and punched the daylights out of that stupid, pathetic excuse of a fish, but he couldn’t. He was drowning, trapped within his own body.

“When do I leave?”

The words were strange, foreign on his tongue. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to rip out the worm, choke it out. He wanted to smash his head against a wall until it was dead, dig his fingers into his skull and pull out the carcass. Fish-Face stopped and looked back at the turtle, almost like he knew exactly what he had been thinking. “Dusk.” He said, happily. He sounded like a kid showing his parents the ’A’ he got on his English paper. But no, he was cheerfully explaining when they expected Raph to kill his brothers.

The fish turned to look at him, his magenta arms crossing over his white chest. “Don’t worry, we know exactly where they’ll be. And you’ll know exactly what you have to do.”

——————————

Raphael hated this plan.

He wanted to scratch off the foot insignia, burn his mask, scrub his face clean of any paint and blast the stupid claws with fire until they were nothing but a red hot pile of metal.

He was crouched in the corner of a rooftop- one he and his brothers frequented during their patrols. He didn’t know the details, but somehow Shredder knew they’d be here. He’d sent Raph, an army of foot bots, Fish-Face and Rahzar to confront the turtles. They were all waiting, the foot bots blending easily into the shadows, Fish-Face and Rahzar waiting for their cue somewhere else. Raphael might have been tucked in a corner, but he wasn’t hiding. (He wished he was).

He didn’t know how long he stood there with his hands sweating, his feet aching from crouching in one spot for so long, and his heart- beating so fast he could feel it in his fingertips. Then he heard it, their laughter. Raphael’s eyes narrowed but his mind was screaming turn around! Don’t come any closer! Pick a different roof- please, don’t make me hurt you!

He should’ve known it was futile. When has the universe ever been on his side?

His eyes scanned the bodies as they flipped onto the roof, noting every detail. Leonardo’s arm, bandaged from the wound he had given him. Raph noticed that he looked stressed- tired, like every step was one step closer to pulling him into the ground for good. Raphael didn’t like seeing him like this- it wasn’t the fearless he knew. Donatello was looking down at some sort of tracking device, his eyes narrowed in concentration. He held a hand up to his chin, stroking it thoughtfully. Raph knew he was tired, he was just better at hiding it. Finally, his eyes slid over to the youngest turtle. Mikey. Michelangelo. He looked the happiest out of all of them but there was still something so- wrong. He had a smile but it looked fake, he laughed, but it sounded forced. He was bouncing around the rooftop but it was too… Animated. Everything about this picture was wrong. They all looked wrong. And- god, he had to kill them.

”You got anything?” Leo asked, Raph's eyes snapped back to the eldest. Leo, who was pinching the bridge of his nose, speaking to Donnie with a tone just short of helpless.

“Nothing,” Donnie muttered, closing his eyes before putting both hands over them, digging the appendages into the sockets. He pulled them off before turning back to Leo. “We’ve been searching for weeks, and I can’t find anything! This thing is useless!”

Mikey jumped over, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t say that, D.” He said softly, patting him. “We’re close, I know it.” Raph could feel his heart breaking, his fingers twitching in anticipation.

Oh, Mikey, you don’t know how close you are.

“We’ll find him.” He smiled, but Donnie looked less than comforted. Mikey pulled away, shrugging nonchalantly. “Besides, Raph can’t get away from us that easily.”

Donnie looked at the floor and Leo sighed. Evidently, the joke didn’t land. Mikey’s tone was too forced- too happy, his laugh made Raph’s heart drop to his stomach, and he let out a sharp breath.

“Yeah, hopefully,” Donnie said.

Leo spoke up from where he’d been standing a few feet away, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe it’s just the wind, but.. did you guys hear anything?”

Raph’s heart stopped beating for a second. Had he heard him? No, there was no way, he should’ve been to far away- but then why ask that question? Could he hear the breathing, the shifting? Could he feel their presence? Their eyes, locked onto the three turtles?

“Nope,” Mikey said, popping the p. He pulled out his nunchucks, spinning one of them lazily. “But if there is anyone, we’re gonna kick their butt!”

Donnie frowned from next to him, tucking the device into his pocket. “Why do you ask, Leo?”

He watched his older brother scan the rooftop, every nook and cranny until Leo was staring right at him. Raphael’s breathing hitched, even if he knew it was dark and you could barely make out his features, you could still see his milky white eyes. A stark contrast to the black shadows. He didn’t know if Leo knew it was him, but whatever he thought was enough for him to pull out his katanas, much to the others confusion. Raph watched as a small wince pulled across Leo’s face, he was clearly favouring his right side. Raph wanted to kill Shredder. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to scream that this was a trap- that they needed to leave- but he stayed silent, perfectly still, barely breathing.

“Because we’re being watched.”

Within a second Donnie had pulled out his bo staff, his brothers switching into defensive positions within the next. All of them were looking directly at him. He watched their eyes go white, narrowing in suspicion. Leonardo stepped forward, pointing one of his Katana’s in Raph's direction. Fuck- fuck, he didn’t want to do this, he couldn’t hurt them, no, no, no no NO-

He couldn’t do anything but sit back and watch.

“Reveal yourself, before we make you.” Leo snarled. If Raph wasn’t worried for their safety, he’d make fun of the corny line, unfortunately, he was worried. Also unfortunately, he couldn’t say it even if he wanted too.

Raph felt his body standing up, coming out of his crouched, contorted position. The claws reached his knees, the steel shimmering in the moonlight. His head was tilted towards the ground, his mouth pulling into a familiar smirk. He rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck before he looked up.

His eyes were green.

“Looking for me?” He said snarkily, just enough that it sounded normal. He watched his brothers relax, before they stopped, noticing exactly what Raph was wearing.

His brown belt had been replaced with black leather, small pouches along the side containing the foots throwing stars. His wraps were all black. He wore spiked shoulder pads and arm bands on both biceps. There was black war paint on his face, two stripes on each cheek. It outlined the black mask perfectly, nothing like his signature red. He still wore his gauntlets, shiny, clean and gleaming. Perhaps worst of all was the black foot insignia on his upper left plastron. It was the best paint they had, water resistant, it shouldn't chip, it was damn near indestructible. The closest thing they could get to a brand without hurting him. To carry that mark in front of his brothers made his skin crawl in shame.

Raphael watched their reactions, horror, confusion, fear, worry, suspicion and disgust. They were disgusted in him. He chuckled. He was disgusted in himself too.

“Raph-!?” Leo gasped, his sword dropping. His blue eyes were wide with shock and horror, sputtering in pure disbelief. The older turtle took a step back, scanning the outfit once, twice, and a third time for good measure, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Yeah, you and me both, fearless.

Mikey let out a horrified gasp, his mouth hanging open. He watched his younger brother's eyes scan the outfit, his mouth slowly closing before he gulped, shifting uncomfortably. Raph saw the fear swimming in those baby blues, and it hurt. It felt like he was stabbed right through the chest, but he kept smirking.

Worst of all, perhaps, was Donnie, because his reaction was nothing short of disgusted. His mouth pulled up into a sneer, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. He looked so disappointed in him, disappointed in what happened. He knew he was worried, he knew Donnie, but god if his face didn’t twist the knife.

He found himself laughing, a dark, sadistic laugh that sounded nothing like him.

“Take a picture,” he drawled, holding the gauntlets up in front of him as he kept speaking. “It’ll last longer.”

Leonardo’s eyes narrowed. His sword held higher, his feet shifting in place.

“Raph- come on man, this isn’t you!” Mikey yelled from next to him, a desperate look in his eyes. Raph wanted nothing more than to hug him but he couldn’t. His breath stuttered in his chest, the cue swirling around in his mind. His eyes went white, now was the time.

“The old Raph is dead, he can’t stop this. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll put down the weapons to make this easier for all of us.”

Right on cue the hidden ninjas emerged from their hiding spots, quickly surrounding the three turtles. He nearly gagged, screaming and clawing at his mind in vain. He was trying desperately to move his hands, shut himself up, drop the gauntlets- anything, but nothing happened. Nothing was working. He was still here and he couldn’t fucking do anything.

The three were instantly back in ninja mode, their stance tighter, their weapons clenched in their hands.

“We’d rather die than do that.” Leo said coldly.

“Then die.”

Just like that, everyone attacked. He saw Rahzar and Fish-Face attack Mikey and Donnie. Raphael rushed forward to meet Leonardo, their weapons clanging together, sending sparks through the air. He grit his teeth, hooking the katana Leo held with his bad arm into the claws, twisting the sword out of his hand. He didn’t waste any time before kicking him square in the plastron, sending him back. He watched the foot bots rush in, keeping him distracted while Raph scanned the chaotic rooftop. Shredder had told him which turtle to kill first; the smartest. Donnie was the only one who could come up with a potential cure for the brainworm. If he was dead, well, that solved that problem. He could easily take him down, it was no hidden fact that he was the weakest fighter, even if he was probably the strongest player on the board.

Raph knew once Donnie was dead, they’d fall like flies.

He wanted to stab himself when he locked eyes with his immediate younger brother, currently fighting off Fish-Face. He dodged attack after attack, managing to land a few hits of his own. Raph would’ve been proud, if he wasn’t terrified.

Logically, he knew this wasn’t their first fight, that his brothers were great ninjas, but there was something different. This time, there was no hesitation, no worry over the serum failing, no qualms about taking a life. Instead, it was replaced with bloodlust and the solid belief that Raph was under their control.

“Oi, Xever!” Raph barked out, holding the gauntlets out to his side. Fish-Face looked back and smirked, he grabbed Donatello’s Bo staff mid swing, using the momentum to throw him in Raph’s direction.

Donnie landed with a solid thud, but was immediately back on his feet. He swayed, clutching his staff with both hands. He could see the slight tremble in them, the hesitation in his form. Donnie didn’t want to fight him, he could tell, but he didn’t have a choice.

Raph grinned like a shark, wide, nothing but teeth and malicious intent.

He chuckled lowly, “Come on Donnie.. drop the staff. Fighting back is going to make this so much worse.”

He wanted to punch himself in the face.

Donnie was scared, but his gaze hardened. “No thanks, I quite like my odds actually.”

Raphael shrugged, smirking. “Suit yourself.”

The next thing he knew, he was lunging at him, swinging his blades at his face. Donnie ducked, and it was back and forth from there on.

Raph would swing, Donnie would duck. Donnie would retaliate, trying to sweep his feet out from under him or knock him off balance, Raph would avoid it. Their dance was familiar, but this was nothing like training in the dojo.

He could see the sweat on Donnie’s face the longer they fought, he could hear the grunts and screams from the battle around them, but he never relented.

At some point, Donnie managed to knock off his right gauntlet, sending it flying somewhere behind them. Raph cheered in his head, but he knew his luck would only last for so long. All it would take is one mistake, and Donnie would be done.

Across the rooftop, Mikey screamed. Donnie had been in the middle of attempting a hit to his side. The white eyes immediately snapped back to Donnie’s reddish brown, scanning the roof to find their little brother. He was distracted, and Raph ripped the staff out of his hands, sweeping it under his feet before he could even blink.

Donnie hit the ground with a thud, looking back at Raph before he managed to push himself up. Raph looked over him, hitting the button he knew would release Donnie’s blade. Donnie was scrambling backwards, trying to get up. He could hear Leo shouting in the distance, Mikey’s pained cries, the sound of something snapping, but all he could see was the fear on Donnie’s face while he stalked towards him.

“Raph- Raph, come on man, don’t do this,” he begged, his voice shaking. Raph took another dangerous step forward, his face blank. He raised the weapon, slashing it down. He was going for the face, but Donnie’s left arm came up to block it. Raph watched the back of his forearm get cut open, he heard Donnie’s yell. He paused, and that was just enough time for Donnie’s legs to shoot out, kicking him back with a surprising amount of force. He dropped to a knee, watching his brother scramble back, getting to his feet quickly. He held the bleeding arm to his plastron, covering it with his other arm. His breaths came out in short puffs, god, there was so much blood-

Raphael growled, throwing the staff to the side before he tackled his brother to the ground. He managed to get on top of him, straddling his stomach before he started punching him. He landed blow after blow after blow. His face, his neck, his arms, his chest- wherever he could reach. Donnie cried out with every hit, trying to cover his body as best as he could.

“Raph- stop-“ he gasped, before another punch connected with his cheek. He was shaking under him, staring at him with terror filled eyes. He couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, all he could hear was the sickening smack of his fist connecting to Donnie’s flesh.

“Raphael-!”

Another punch.

“Please- stop-“

An elbow to the nose, a loud crunch filling the air.

“Raph-“

A punch to the arm.

“RAPH!”

A punch connecting with his temple.

“STOP IT! STOP-“

A hammer fist to the chest, slamming it down as hard as he could.

“Please..”

Raph ignored the broken sob, grabbing Donnie’s head with his right hand. He pulled it up, locking eyes with his younger brother before he smashed his skull into the ground.

Donnie stopped begging after that.

He didn’t know how much longer he spent beating the shit out of him, what happened to the rest of the fight, or what happened to his other brothers. He did know that after a while he paused, his chest heaving, his mind blank with horror. He stared down at his brother and almost threw up.

Donnie’s face was mangled, his nose was busted, and there was a pool of blood under his head. Both of his eyes were swollen, his lip split open, and he had a cut above the purple mask. His entire face was almost unrecognizable. Even worse than what happened with Slash. Bruises were already showing up on every inch of his skin from the face down. His arm was still bleeding, he was pretty sure he broke some of his ribs.

He sat there, breathing heavily while Donnie groaned under him. He raised his fist again and he watched Donnie flinch weakly, whimpering. The sound broke Raphael’s heart.

“R-..aph..” he stuttered out, trying to focus his eyes but they were spinning, everything was spinning. “S-top… you-you’re hurting m-me..” He inhaled sharply, coughing. He could’ve been crying. Raph couldn’t tell with all the blood.

“Raphie.. p-lease, please…”

Raph almost cried, the hatred he felt for himself was so strong he almost threw up. Except- he was actually going to throw up. He stumbled off his brother, dropping a few feet away. He was holding a blood covered hand over his mouth, it filled with saliva and a horrible red hot pain shot from his head to his toes. He gagged, his eyes watering at the sheer force of it before he was retching. Something was coming up, but it wasn’t his dinner. He gagged again, dry heaving for a few seconds before he felt something thick in his throat. Choking and coughing, it took a few seconds for it to come out. He shivered, gasping for air as he looked down.

There lied the worm. His eyes widened, his hands twitching- he was hyperventilating. He didn’t hesitate before he brought his gauntlets down onto the bug, slicing it up before smashing the remaining body with his fist. He didn’t stop until it was mush and tears blocked his vision. That’s when he heard his brothers voice, but it wasn’t Donnie.

“Raph..?”

He snapped his head up- Mikey, oh god-

He looked horrible. His nose was busted, and he was holding his left arm. It was bent the wrong way, probably broken. He limped towards him, fuck, he probably had a broken leg too-

“Mikey..” he choked out, stretching a hand out towards his younger brother. He got up, rushing over before he gave him a long hug, careful not to aggravate his wounds too much. He knew he was covered in blood, he could feel it, but he didn’t care. Mikey was alive- hurt, yes, but alive. They didn’t kill him. He pulled back, staring at Mikey with a heartbroken expression.

“Fuck- Mikey, I’m so sorry.”

Mikey’s eyes were wet, and he brushed the tears away with a small sniffle. He gave him a weak grin, less fake than the one he had on earlier. “It’s okay dude, you were totally being controlled by that worm thing.”

Raph choked, holding his brothers good shoulder. He brought his other hand up, realizing with horror that he still had the gauntlet on. He immediately took it off, tossing it to the side. With that out of the way, he brought the hand up to cup his brothers cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb.

”I’m so sorry little brother,” he said quietly. Mikey leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. Raph almost broke down into tears right then and there, but managed to restrain himself. He leaned forward, touching their foreheads together. Mikey reached his good hand up to grab the hand on his shoulder, hiccuping softly.

Eventually Raph pulled away, but before he could even think about what to say, Mikey was already talking. “You should probably check on Donnie, dude,” He sniffed, stepping back from Raph with a small wince. “You- um, got him pretty good.”

Raph stopped, his eyes widening. He mentally chided himself for forgetting about the brother he just beat up before he was turning around, rushing over to Donnie. He wasn’t sure if Mikey followed. He barely made out the figure of his older brother sitting next to the mangled body before he collapsed, his hands hovering over the bloodied chest.

“Donnie, oh god,” he choked, pulling his hands back like he got burnt. “What the fuck did I do?”

You can also find this on Ao3 :P

Honestly, it’s the best Tmnt crossover AND it’s one of the best Tmnt movies out there. I love it so much and it doesn’t get half the hype it deserves

It might seem like I’m joking when I say that Batman VS the TMNT is my favorite movie of all time but you need to understand that to me. to me? This movie has it all. The Gotham City Rogues all get fursonas. Two poorly voiced lesbians tearfully break up in a pizzeria right before Batman throws Michealangelo through the window. Donatello sees Damian Wayne and yells “What are you, five?!” Leonardo calls him “Little guy” and Damian fucking breaks his knees with a bo staff. Harley’s in her jester outfit telling Joker that eight years of college and three years of residency make her overqualified to be the sexy nurse. Raphael of all turtles lectures Batman about not being direct and trusting with his family. Leonardo kicks Ra’s al Ghul in the balls. Shredders asks Batman to say his last words and he goes, “Cowabunga”

people coming into the pjo fandom need to understand that we multi ship like there's no tmr. Of course we love percabeth but also we love piperbeth and ofc jiper was nice while it lasted but there's piper and shel and oh jercys cute too and valgrace should've been cannon oh but valangelo is fun but yk you can't forget about solangelo, and frazel is so wholesome but so is the enemies to lovers valzhang and and-

I’ve been on that Whumpay grind, and I’m back again (to no one’s shock or surprise). I dunno about you guys, but I love rescue fics. I also love the teenage mutant ninja turtles.

When I saw the prompt “Muzzled”, I knew exactly what needed to be done.

I’m pretty sure I hyperfocused so hard I blacked out lmao, but here we go

Tw: Swearing (it’s always Raph), mentions of injuries and blood

Leonardo wasn’t prepared for this.

They had been looking for weeks. Two hellish weeks. They had checked under every rock, every nook, in every cranny. They ransacked every abandoned building they came across, every tunnel in the sewers. Hell, they even broke into the Shredders lair.

They. Looked. Everywhere.

They were getting desperate, snappy. They barely slept, barely ate. Master Splinter had tried to keep the two of them inside for one day- just to rest.

He never tried that again.

It had been the beginning of the third week when they found it. Raphael had almost run straight by the building, but Leo stopped. He noticed that on the gps there was no building in this location. Not only that, but they couldn’t see an address. The structure was way too new to be off the grid, and it was easy to realize something shady was going on.

From an outside perspective it was just a storage building. Unassuming, grey brick, a blue roof made of metal, and a ten foot high chain link fence that circled the property. For a few hours they waited and watched, silently. It bustled with just enough activity that they almost left, wondering if they were making something out of nothing. That was until it hit him that the people coming in weren’t the same ones coming out a few minutes later. Leo knew it shouldn’t take hours to check your storage compartment, unless you weren’t. That’s when Raph spotted the man, an officer circling the perimeter.

“What the fuck is this? Protected storage?” He snapped, huffing with frustration. They had been up in the trees, hidden from view but still able to observe the compound.

Leo didn’t react, scanning the property for guards. It didn’t take long to realize that it was armed to the teeth with soldiers and guns.

“There’s something sketchy going on down there.” He mumbled.

Beside him, Raph snorted. “No shit, fearless.”

They fell silent once again, and Raph shifted on his tree branch. He was almost.. apprehensive. Scared.

“Do you think… Mikey and Donnie are in there?” He asked softly, looking at his older brother. Leo’s eyes hardened, his fist tightening on the branch in hand. He hoped so, he really hoped so.

“Theres only one way to find out, right?”

Raphael looked confused for a second before he smirked, cracking his knuckles with an evil looking glint in his eye.

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

———————————————

It wasn’t hard to break in. They slipped past the guards easily, taking them out with practiced precision. They were methodical and silent, hidden within the shadows. They made their way into some sort of elevator. They’d already stolen a keycard from one of the high ranking guards, ensuring access to every level. The first floor they landed on seemed to store old and unused lab technology. They had a laugh about how Donnie would love this, before they fell silent, the weight of what was at stake resting heavily on their shoulders.

The next floor was a lab, extensive and huge. It seemed to go on forever, door after door leading to more rooms than they could count on both hands. But it wasn’t the size that worried them, it was everything else. Tazers and cattle prods, trays full of scalpels and bone saws, dissection tables, test tubes numbered from 1-578. Then there was that room, full of giant tubes containing some sort of green goo. What they held.. well, it looked like mutants. They were probably made from scratch, floating within the green liquid.

They gave each other a look then, certain they were in the right place, and yet so incredibly scared of what they might find.

The floor below that looked like a training room, one they didn’t bother exploring.

However, the floor below that one… well, it was nothing short of a prison. Cells lined the walls in every direction, and Leo’s skin crawled with disgust. It was inhumane, unsanitary and it reeked of blood. Some cells were empty, some weren’t. Even if he wanted to save every mutant captured, he knew there wasn’t any time. He was on a mission. He needed to find his brothers.

It was one of the last cells, furthest away from the elevator, practically hidden in the darkness. They would’ve walked past without a second glance if they hadn’t heard it, a high pitched whimper, the sound of chains rustling. Then, a voice.

“Leo..?”

It was scratchy, barely above a whisper, but Leo would recognize that voice anywhere. His heart had plummeted to his feet as he rushed to the bars, grabbing at them desperately.

“Donnie!?” He whisper shouted, trying to peer into the dark cell. He could make out two silhouettes, one of them sat up against the wall, his arms hanging next to him, limply. Laid out on his lap there was a second figure, presumably asleep, curled up close to the first. With what little light they had, Leo could make out green skin and shells on both of them.

Next to him, Raph had froze, staring at the scene in front of him with wide eyes. His sais hung limply in his hands, mouth parted in horror. He stepped forward and his face tightened, twisting in guilt and worry. He had stabbed his sai into the lock mechanism, twisting it roughly until he heard a click. Raph didn’t waste any time before he entered the cell, dropping to his knees next to the two figures. Leo followed soon after, first checking to make sure no one heard the commotion. Once he deemed it was safe, he joined them inside the poor excuse for a room.

Raph had pulled out his t-phone to turn the flashlight on, and almost dropped it immediately after.

Donnie was muzzled. Leo hadn’t noticed until now- how, he wasn’t sure- but he was muzzled. Like a wild animal. He gasped from his place behind Raph, his hand covering his mouth as he glanced over their bodies. He didn’t want to look too closely just yet, scared of what he might see. What he had gathered from the once over was enough. Leo wanted to throw up, but he knew he needed to keep it together. He was the leader for Christ’s sakes! But… god.

Leonardo wasn’t prepared for this.

It was quiet. They all stood there- or sat, in Donnie’s case- and stared. Raph couldn’t look away from the muzzle. Leo was scanning Mikey’s shell, mentally noting every new dent and scratch. Donnie’s eyes flicked between his two older brothers, like he couldn’t believe this was real.

They sound of a low groan snapped them out of their silent trance. Michelangelo shifted from where he was in Donnie’s lap, letting out the same whimper they heard earlier. Leo didn’t think his heart could break anymore, but here he was, his heart breaking.

“Oh god..” he mumbled, finally dropping to his knees on the other side of Donatello. He hesitantly grabbed Mikey’s shoulders, rolling him over. He almost puked at what he saw.

His little brother had bruises covering his skin and his beak looked broken, evident by the blood dripping down his face. What really pissed him off was the collar around his neck, metal and about an inch thick. It looked too tight to be comfortable, but, it did explain why the youngest didn’t have a muzzle. Leo swallowed harshly, tapping Mikey’s shoulder.

“Mikey, can you hear me?”

His brothers eyes fluttered but didn’t open, and Leo frowned. He grabbed his shoulder, careful about any bruises or scrapes, and gave him a light shake.

“Come on Mike, we need to get you out of here.”

Finally he seemed to stir, cracking his eyes open ever so slightly. Donnie immediately pushed the t-phone out of Mikey’s face, before he gingerly brought a hand to his forehead, swiping his thumb over the skin a few times. Mikey looked up at Donnie with confusion and maybe concern, before he looked around. He saw Leo first and did a double take, his eyes widening in shock. Then Mikey was sitting up, far too quickly because he nearly fell over in the process, but it was clear that he didn’t care, throwing himself into Leo’s arms. Donnie reached after him, his arm hovering in the air as he watched the two before it dropped onto his lap.

Raph had long since started looking around for the chains they’d heard earlier. Once spotted, he didn’t waste any time before breaking both of them with his sai. He let out a small puff of air, sitting back onto his heels. At least they weren’t tied down anymore, he thought bitterly.

Leo didn’t care about anything but the turtle in his arms. He held his brother tightly, the relief was finally hitting him. He could feel Mikey’s tears soaking his shoulder, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t shedding some of his own. The younger turtle was trembling, his face was tucked into Leo’s neck and his body felt cold, but Leo didn’t care. He was here. In Leo’s arms. That’s all that mattered right now.

“Not to burst your bubble or anything, but we need to get out. Like, now.” Raph snapped, already helping Donnie to his feet. Leo noticed that the muzzle was still on his face, it must’ve been too dangerous to take it off right now. Raph wouldn’t leave it unless he had too.

Leo nodded from his place on the floor, shifting Mikey into a princess carry soon after. He stood up, pulling Mikey close to his chest. His younger brother still hadn’t said anything, and that fact alone was starting to worry Leo.

“Alright, you got Donnie?” A quick nod of confirmation from Raph was all he needed before they set off. They were careful, doing their best to be quiet. Donnie stumbled a lot, clearly dizzy and weak, before Raph wordlessly offered him a piggyback.

It was smooth sailing from there on.

They made it to the elevator and hit the main level, all of them standing in silence. Raph and Leo were relieved to have their brothers back, but worried about what happened. Mikey and Donnie were still reeling from their imprisonment. They didn’t see any guards- they were all still tied up and gagged- and made it across the property within a minute.

The first step outside of the gates felt like a huge weight lifted off their shoulders. Leo let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and Raph was quick to call their father. He let him know that they found their brothers and that they were heading home.

They made it back about an hour later to a panicked April and a concerned Splinter. They still didn’t know what happened to them, they weren’t sure they ever would, but they were home, and that was good enough for Leo.

You can also find this on Ao3 :3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65316250

So I saw the Whumpay prompts “Truth Serum” and “Magic Overuse” and thought, if I don’t write about Harry Potter I’m basically committing a crime.

So we all know Veritaserum exists and it totally should’ve been used to clear Sirius’s name, but for some reason it never happened. I wrote about it set during prisoner of Azkaban, except it’s Whumpay so of course things go wrong

Here’s my crackfic turned angsty hell based on Hermione having common sense and being a little morally grey featuring oblivious Harry, smart Ron, and stupid Cornelius Fudge.

Tw: Erasing memories, headaches on steroids

They had just broken the bars off his cage, the sound of the the metal falling away almost deafening. That’s when it struck her.

“Veritaserum!” She exclaimed. She couldn’t see Harry’s nor Sirius’s face, but she could feel the confusion rolling off them in waves. They both exchanged looks before they stared back at the bushy haired girl, Sirius with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms.

“Er- Hermione, what about Veritaserum?” Harry had asked, still planted in front of her on Buckbeak. She slid off the Hippogrif, landing on the stone floor with a small thud, looking back up at Harry.

“It’ll clear his name!” She turned to Sirius now, a smile on her face. “If you take some in front of the Minister of Magic and Dumbledore- well, they can’t very well send you back to Azkaban, can they?”

She was stoked, wand in hand as he grinned happily. Sirius looked dumbstruck. It was the most logical thing he’d ever heard, but for some reason he’d never thought of before.

“This is why you’re the brightest witch of our age.” Harry laughed, finally realizing what this meant- what this could mean. If Sirius was cleared, he could finally escape the Dursley’s. He could finally live with someone who cared about his parents for all they did, and most importantly, cared about him.

“Hermione,” Sirius said, a strange look on his face, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re a genius. Absolutely brilliant.”

Hermione was still smiling when she helped Sirius onto Buckbeak’s back. She was still smiling when she told Dumbledore to summon the Minister; when she told him her grand plan. She was still smiling when the Minister of Magic showed up, looking vaguely annoyed and entirely skeptical.

This would prove it. Right here- this moment, this would prove it. Sirius was innocent.

She held back a grin as he chugged down the Veritaserum, barely containing her glee when he confessed that he hadn’t killed James and Lily. She shot Harry a satisfied glanced when he explained that it had been Peter all along, that he was working for the dark lord. He explained that while he did try to kill him, all he got was a finger.

The tension in the room was thick, waiting for the minister to say something. She gave Harry’s hand a small squeeze in support, waiting.

The smile dropped off her face faster than the speed of light when he said it didn’t matter. Her eyes got dark when he ordered cuffs to be placed on Sirius’s wrists despite the damming truth between them. Her hand twitched to her wand when Sirius’s face dropped in realization that he’d have to go back. She watched the light in his eyes dim, and she couldn’t stop herself. Later she’d blame it on impulsivity- but she knew it wasn’t true. She didn’t feel bad for what she did, she felt vindicated.

“Obliviate!”

At once the Minister and his associate stopped, their faces going blank. A sharp pain pierced her own skull, but she didn’t care. From the corner of her eye she could see Dumbledores surprise, clearly not expecting her to do that, but underneath the shock she could tell he was proud. Sirius looked like he didn’t know whether to be stunned or amused, his face settling somewhere between the two. Harry of course was horrified, standing beside her with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“Hermione!” He yelled, sounding vaguely appalled.

“Don’t.” She snapped, looking back at Harry. “Just take Sirius and wait for me at the cell.”

He shifted on his feet then, glancing over the Minister, the blank eyes staring into the distance. “Hermione, you just-“

“I know what I did!” She snapped, looking back at Fudge. “If he doesn’t want to see reason, well…” she smirked, her hand steady on her wand. “Then I guess he just won’t remember this, will he?”

No one would remember this she thought, watching Harry free his uncle from the godawful shackles. Her head pulsed and she closed her eyes, trying to will away the pain. Hermione waited until she heard his footsteps retreating before she opened them. Once he was gone, she turned to fully face Dumbledore. He gave her a knowing smile, like he knew exactly what she was planning.

“You may not be doing the right thing, but you’re doing it for the right reasons.” He spoke softly, tilting his head ever so slightly as he turned to look at Fudge. “That man was proven innocent, and yet..” he trailed off, looking away from the minister.

Hermione hesitated, her wand faltering in her grip, her palms sweaty where the skin touched wood. Before she could speak, Dumbledore was already raising a hand to silence her.

“I shall take Mr Fudge and his associate back to the ministry. Once I return, I’ll be sure to get rid of any evidence, lest you want a migraine for days.” His voice was smooth but amused, she could practically hear the eyebrow raise, even though she couldn’t see it. Hermione blushed in embarrassment, her gaze darting to the floor for a second. “I promise, no one will know this has been done, my dear.” He leisurely walked over to the two men, like this was an everyday occurrence. (It was Hogwarts, maybe it was.) Dumbledore took ahold of them both by the arm, looking back with a soft but knowing smile. “No one but you.”

———————————————

Hermione didn’t feel any regret when she left the room, now holding her wand firmly, the time turner tucked safely under her shirt.

She didn’t feel any regret when she made it back to Harry and Sirius, both of them in varying stages of confusion and worry.

She didn’t feel any regret when she raised her arm, pointing her wand at the two of them. She let a small apology fall from her lips, a courtesy she knew they wouldn’t remember.

“I’m sorry Harry, Sirius. This is for the best.”

She didn’t feel any regret when their faces went blank, their eyes clouding over. She didn’t feel any regret when she got back on Buckbeak, leading them to think they had just broken the bars.

If the law wouldn’t allow Sirius Black to live his life, then Hermione would. She wasn’t cruel, she wasn’t mean, but some people deserved it. In her eyes, Sirius didn’t. If the price she had to pay was a splitting headache and nausea, then she would pay it. Headaches went away. Nausea went away. The trauma from living with dementors never disappeared. Hermione would be dammed if she let Sirius go back knowing he was innocent.

Later that night the two of them sat in the infirmary with Ron. Harry had taken the role of filling him in while Hermione sat in silence. She massaged her temples every once in a while, for the most part having her head rest in her hand. Earlier she had told them that she was tired, they didn’t question it. The headache raged like a hurricane, battering the inside of her head so violently she almost cried. Her vision doubled, she was so nauseous she genuinely debated grabbing a bucket just in case- but she refused to show it. Not in front of Harry. It would be too suspicious.

She wasn’t paying attention when he told Ron that he felt weird, like he was missing time. She didn’t hear him when he stated that the rescue felt much longer than it was, too focused on the cacophony of drums behind her eyes. Only when he turned to her to ask if she felt the same did she realize what he was talking about. She put her shaking hands onto her lap. Out of sight, out of mind, right? She did her best to sound genuine while she reassured him that everything was okay.

“I mean, the stairs did take a bit longer than usual,” she said with a convincingly thoughtful hum, “Maybe it’s just the adrenaline.. I wouldn’t worry about it.” Her voice was strained, trying her best not to show the pain. She gave Harry a bright smile, and he returned one of his own, even if his didn’t reach his eyes. She felt a pit forming in her stomach, but she quickly pushed it away. Third years weren’t supposed to use that spell, let alone know about it, but Hermione was no ordinary third year. She’d been gifted a time turner, what was one more secret to keep? Yes, her head hurt, a side affect of using magic to powerful for her age, but it was well deserved. She didn’t regret anything she did, even if it meant having a migraine. She’d do it all again in a heartbeat.

After Harry had gone to bed, Hermione stuck around. Ron gave her a side eye from his position on the cot but she rolled her eyes, ignoring the spike of nausea from the action. She gave him an unamused look, quirking up one of her eyebrows. “Really Ronald, everything’s fine. Why are you looking at me like that?”

For a minute he just stared, and she sat there confused. Finally he reached over, placing a hand over top of hers. “Whatever you did..” he paused, unsure if he should continue. “I know you had a good reason to do it.”

She stared at him with wide eyes, but she didn’t respond. Was she really that obvious?

He chuckled for a second at her confused expression, a small sound that filled the air between them. “There are painkillers over there, you know.” He said, jutting his head to a small bottle on his bedside table. “They work faster if you hold ‘em under your tongue- here, let me grab them for you.”

Her eyes went wide with shock and she looked away. Ron was a lot more observant than she gave him credit for, clearly. She heard him grab the bottle, having some difficulty flipping open the lid, and she laughed quietly at his struggle. Her gave her a small smile, finally getting it open with a triumphant yell. She shook her head, he was lucky they were the only people in here. She held out her spare hand and he shook three pills into her palm, closing the cap and putting it away.

“Take one now, and these two tomorrow.” He said firmly, now holding a small mug of water. She looked at him with a grateful smile, popping one of the magical pills into her mouth before she drank the water to help it go down.

“Thank you.” She said, setting the water onto the side table. He just shrugged, looking oddly smug. “What’re friends for?”

Ron gave her hand a pat before pulling back, giving Hermione an easy, reassuring smile. As the feeling of being stabbed in her skull slowly faded away, she smiled back.

You can also read this on Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65405383