A HA! THE REAL REASON CHESS TELLS US TO STAY AWAY FROM COVERT LEON IS REVEALED

You give off thunder vibes

*Liam Nelson Voice* I know who you are. I will find you, and I will fight you.

*hands on hips* There’s nothing subtle or epic about me, Broski. I’m literally the definition of loud and proud. That makes me lightning and aggressive sunshine. We’ve talked about this.

12. Do you ever have trouble focusing on writing? How do you get around that?

46. What time are you the most productive when it comes to writing?

72. What do you do if a scene gets too serious?

Dang. It’s been so long since I’ve had a legitimate ask in my inbox so I forgot what to do. *does arm wiggle thing* AnYwHiZzLe Perception be upon ye! Let me answer your query’s!

12. (YAY MY FAVORITE NUMBER how did you know?) Ma’am. I say this with all the love in my heart, but I’ve got that ADHD up the wazoo. You try wrangling the 5 chickens that live in my brain into one corner and get them to work together long enough to form consecutive thought. In all seriousness tho, it can be a benefit when I FIXATE on writing ya know? Because I can sit down for like a solid 5 hours and manage to wring out a good 7-10 pages in that time, if I A: Make the time and B: Set my mind to actually doing it. Bullet point lists are my favorite because it keeps my chickens from wandering mentally too far.

46. Uh…Evening/Nighttime usually I think🤔 There’s something about the phrase “sacred night” in the fact that that’s when all the thoughts and feelings have time to compress.

If you want to talk to me though? The earlier in the morning is when the brain juice flows the fastest and as such so does the words from my mouth 😆😅

72. Hmm good question. I guess it depends on your definition of too serious? Because sometimes I think that’s the power in writing, to say what we can’t usually say outloud. And sometimes that means saying the hard things and taking things serious when the rest of the world can be so full of flippancy. So I guess it’s all weighing on your motive and direction overall. Best tip I can give is just to pace yourself and make sure to make a new paragraph at every “new” thing, like view of direction or action, stuff like that.

Thank you so much for the ask! It was fun!🧡🥰

“Casual” TMNT Fan

You know you're a fan of TMNT, when your CoUnSeLor sends you this pic while on her travels with the caption of “Look its your boys!”

Now, these aren’t my boys per se….but *whistles*

YO @luckycharms1701 and @anobodyinabog come get yer man! He’s wreaking havoc in a candy store while simultaneously being a snack!

Apparently for any of my traveling buddies, it’s at candy store in St. George, Utah FYI

Covert AU

*comes sliding into, excitedly holding a picture like a hyperactive 5 year old*

GUYS GUYS GUESS WHAT?!

I COLORED!

for @chessman-protocol, you inspired me Broski and I just had to try and capture your Mikhal. I hope I made him dangerous enough because deh man is the bomb. Literally 😏👉🏼👉🏼🙏🏼🧡✨

Anyhoo, part 2 coming soon!

You had a warning of don't touch. I wasn't kidding when I said I'm a bit much. It would appear it's a lesson you haven't learned, That when you play with fire, You'll always get burned.

~Jayus

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

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

*falls from roof and lands gracefully- not.*

I HAVE AN IMPORTANT QUESTION hehe

Ahem

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

Keep up the amazing work you are very inspiring 💕💕

*Puts a pillow for you to land on*

OH UH HMMM...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Also, thank you~

🫢🤯🥹

This…this literally blew me away like…I have no words to express how beautiful this is…

I Want Something Just Like This

Collaboration with the lovely @tapakah0 thanks for working with me ｡(TヮT)ﾟ｡

@somerandomdudelmao hope you feel better soon Cass ( -_-)＼(0-0 )

Song: Something Just Like This by Coldplay and The Chainsmokers

Well…who says you can’t do both?

BEHOLD

And totally because I’m not like a nerd or anything

✨🪷 Floriography Flowers ✨🪷

Clematis: Represents both ingenuity and cleverness (which I feel like you exempt through both your art and how you engage with fellow tumblrs. Like you are so polite and healthy that is absolutely refreshing to read your asks)

Foxglove: Meaning riddles and secrets (because I genuinely can’t get a read on you and your stories + work always leave me incredibly stunned because MAN I did NOT see that coming)

Anyhoo, 👉🏼😅👈🏼 I hope this doesn’t come across as love bombing or anything and makes you feel uncomfortable, just really admire ya respectfully and you inspire me, so…ya…🧡👊🏼

Telling On Yourself: Pt. 1

//Feeling super "FLUFF-Y"--

...Ohmygosh-- I need to draw this ridiculously intimate or love-y thing-- IT'LL BE WONDERFUL--!!!💜💜💜

//Starts sketching--

...But what if--

//Chooses different pose-- Character is now solo--

...Okay, I can still--

//Adds a toothy grin or smirk-- Expression becomes intimidating--

...Alright, maybe just--

//Adds battle scars, wounds, blood, etc.-- Stares at canvas--

...

...MAN--

My reactions after reading this

Makes me think of a poem from a friend actually🤔

Vent piece, AU, Rise Leo, Angst

It’s cold in here. Even in pants, sneakers, and a hoodie, the chill of the planetarium still eats at him a little. He’s okay with it, though. It’s not quite enough for brumation, which is the important part. He doesn’t need to completely lose track of everything. He just needs… peace.

And, as he lies across the floor while staring up at the star-covered ceiling, he’s sure he’s found it. He’s certain that, if only for a moment or two, he is finally allowed to rest. Finally able to think of something else than his work, his constant running around, his never-ending parade of personas. Hell, he can almost feel himself drift into nothingness as the light music he hears cradles him to near sleep.

It's always nice, always comfortable, always –

He blinks as he hears rustling. Someone sits in a chair in front of where he’s lying on the floor. And while he wants to call it an accident, his nostrils tell him it's not.

The scent of subtle soap and warm skin. The rustle of pants as legs are crossed and brought apart again. The chair squeaks at the attempt to settle in it, but nervousness is keeping its current occupant from getting comfortable.

He wishes he could say the same. Unfortunately, the cold has a good grip on him and while he’s not brumating, he definitely feels sluggish.

Not that you’ll attack him. You have no way to defend yourself save for a can of pepper spray — the thing smells absolutely vile — and from the presentations he’s seen you give, you don’t have a mean bone in your body, which just… helps.

“Want to stay for the video?”

The thing that impresses him is the way you’ve just… made this look as casual as possible while letting him know several things.

One, you know he’s there. How you caught him when he always takes for the grates the second you have a new group is a mystery — there’s hours, a schedule, and he’s got it all down — but you did. Second, you’ve known for a while. The lack of inflection in your tone indicates experience and redefines your nervousness as one of casual approach. Three, … he just wants to turn his brain off. He wishes he couldn’t understand or care about how an employee knows about his presence and hasn’t called the authorities yet. He knows he could deal with them, certainly if he were a little warmer, but this? This goddamn circus? He’s here to get off work, not…

He sighs. Shuffles. He owes you an answer. He just…

“Knock on the back of my seat for a yes.”

He looks up, away from the stars to you. Your back is facing him, then again he’s in a weird position that puts his head near the seat. He could say nothing, not even knock and watch you squirm. He could crack a joke, say something that might make you laugh or groan as he attempts socializing.

But right now… he just can’t be assed.

He reaches up and knocks against the plastic. You just say thank you and stay there for a bit longer before you get up to rummage for something near the projector. There’s shuffling in the chair you were just seated in before he hears you take off for the doors.

Time for the next group. He wonders if he should stay. If he should do what he usually does and skedaddle before anyone notices there’s a bum on the floor. But when everyone steers clear of the seat, therefore him, he has to wonder what’s going on. What you did to manage it so that, when the lights fade out and he hears rustling, he knows it’s you.

You don’t speak. The video is a speaking one after all. It does make him wonder, though. Even long after the video’s done and he’s left to stare at the stars again, he wonders what just happened and if he should care. He’s not complaining, though, not after getting to finally see the visuals, albeit from an interesting angle.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It doesn’t stop him from returning, either.

It’s been a week. He’s debated whether or not it’s worth risking his neck, his family’s neck over someone knowing he’s using the planetarium as his way to relax. He’s wondered if he shouldn’t tell the fam, or at least his little brother, to make sure it’s safe.

But that would mean letting everyone know. That would mean having to deal with that mess and he honestly… doesn’t want to.

He's tired. He’s done. His brothers, even his dad, have completely drained him dry of anything he could remotely care about. So he goes without hesitating.

He navigates lunch hour and watches the shift change. He flinches as your loud coworker laughs and jokes, reminding him of himself in the most obnoxious way. So much so that he half-wants to punch them for being so annoying. He waits on the floor instead, though, and is grateful when you join him the second they leave, leaving him to knock on your chair.

This behavior is more befitting his twin. He doesn’t care.

“Sorry for that. For what it's worth, the next group should all be teenagers, so no crying children.”

He knows. Presentation hours are for classes. Field trips. And while you don’t necessarily struggle during them, depending on the class, it can get disgustingly loud. Even when teenagers are involved.

He knocks on the chair again. You laugh a little before sighing, “I’m sorry I have to ask you to go. I am getting a break later on, though. If you want to stick around until then, I’ll be happy to show you some interesting features.”

And the tridactyl hand he’s been using to knock on your seat grips his hoodie as he thinks, debates.

He shouldn’t. It’s dangerous. No matter how innocent you are, the mere knowledge of who he is could ruin your existence and his. He’s not here to make friends.

… But the company is nice.

His hand hesitates for a second longer before he knocks. You then hush him away and he goes to the vent where he watches you work and barely get to breathe when you get two classes back to back. And he quietly lets himself in after all the hubbub, laying on the floor as you sit with a breath into the chair he knocks on.

The fact that it gets him a chuckle almost makes him smile. The fact that hears you tap the seat next to you worries him.

“Come on. Best seat in the house,” you tell him, though, and while it doesn’t convince him, it does make him move, make him join you even as the seat creaks under his weight. It has him making sure that you can’t see his face or his hands as he sits next to you. Not that you seem to care, though, as your eyes are fixed on the ceiling and your hands fiddle with a small contraption you immediately bring forward and click on once he’s there.

The lights turn off. The domed ceiling goes from evening to night, showing the stars. And, with another click, lines start drawing themselves across the artificial sky, connecting the stars into groups and images slowly appear, making him blink.

Constellations. He’s heard you talking about those. But thanks to the light pollution, the most he’s been able to spot are the brightest stars and, if he’s lucky, the Summer Triangle. Now, he’s finally able to see them.

He almost gets up. He doesn’t. The moment feels too sacred to break. You seem to notice the shift, though, as he can hear you smile when you speak.

“This is the Greek one, which was eventually taken over by the Romans. There are more, though. The Babylonians had an incredible star chart they left behind, explaining what they saw and why it was important to them. The Mayans had one also, and it's been suggested that other Central American cultures might have either used the same map or had their own variations to it. The most interesting one, though, is the Asian one. Western influence was scarce, so their system works very differently even today."

… Ah. He gets it, now. It's almost funny, too, and enough to make him smile. Make almost reach out in the hopes that you understand that you either don't need to share or that he's grateful. He can't do either, though. No matter how much the world wants to think that there's space for everyone, the fact that he's underground, that the Hidden City exists tells him otherwise. He can't let himself do anything but speak, and breaking the silence feels like blasphemy.

"… Thank you."

He still does it, though. Not for his sake but yours. You need to know he appreciates it, even if some of it is going completely over his head.

"No problem."

Because it's worth the softness that invades your tone. Even if it requires more effort than he has energy for, the payoff gives him just a little more than he thought he'd be given. And he likes that. God, does he.

"Anything you want to see?"

"The star map without the images?"

Because if this is all it takes to get this to work as you click and the images disappear, then he's more than willing to try.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unfortunately, winter does not seem to agree.

Brumation becomes a problem. His hoodie is no longer enough, but wearing anything else might hinder his movements in the vents. He can't afford to lose the agility, but he knows that, if he's not careful, he might knock out.

Something you seem to notice as well.

Within a month of winter starting, he finds a blanket waiting outside the vent. His careful thanks only get him even more wrapped inside the surprisingly thin yet cozy fleece blanket as you fuss over him while never once looking up as he's asked you to. It doesn't help that every time, you simply smile after he tells you that he's comfortable, tapping a hand against his plastron.

"Good. Wouldn't want you to pass out."

Which only reminds him of what he's doing and how… he's treating this entire relationship.

No doubt you're getting bored. Annoyed, even. Not that you've told him as such and he doubts he'd ever hear you complain, but he doesn't think he's being fair in any way, certainly considering that he's been keeping this up for weeks.

He doesn't hate you. He hopes you know that. It's just… he comes here when everything is just too much. And you pampering him… is just part of it, now.

"Hold?"

"Yeah."

You joining him on the floor between presentations as he buries his face into your side. Him whimpering, trying not to chirp or do anything that would sound remotely strange as he lets you talk about whatever planet has caught your attention or whatever paper you're working on this week. And you chuckling, even laughing sometimes as he does or tries to either give you advice or ignore you. It's all part of the thing that makes him feel a little better, a little stronger by the time he leaves. It's all part of something that makes him feel safe even if he barely says anything.

Because by the time he gets to you, there's nothing left for him to give.

The silence as his eyes burn almost deafens him. He feels you move and almost refuses to let you get away only to realize he's too weak, too slow thanks to the cold to hold onto anything. The cold, the sluggishness he'd fought so hard to find becomes his enemy as you disappear and reappear to help him up and out the doors, your blanket covering him up like a cloak to cover his face. And it's not any better when he steps outside and winter stakes its claim on him and the only thing he can concentrate on is your voice.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The amount of research you have to ingest in the following hours is insane. You figured something of the sort was going to happen, certainly with how closed off he was being, but you'd hoped to avoid any catastrophe involving your new friend.

Alas, from the way he behaves, you should have called this. From his self-destructive behavior, you should have known that he would drive himself to hypothermia, leaving you to figure out how to sort this mess. And that unfortunately means no more secrets.

… You think it's hypothermia. When you see the green skin and the three-fingered hands, you're no longer sure. Certainly when he's not shivering and the only thing that helps are the red crescents near his eyes and under his blue mask.

Blue mask… Where the hell is he from? And does it matter when this is probably going to ruin your relationship? He thrives on secrets and you… Well, you just ruined a whole lot of that trying to save his life after he broke, didn't you?

Either way, he's safe. He'll be alright in a few hours. He just needs to get to a decent body temperature, which he is safely getting to while bundled up in your bed. He seems to have an internal body temperature, after all, just… one lower than yours.

Part of you worries as you try not to hover. The other knows better and simply keeps you busy with making dinner, and you can't be happier with the meal you chose as you let the pea soup simmer. You work on making something warm to drink along with it, too, hoping that he'll be okay with some Chai.

Then again, after an hour, you wonder if he'll be alright in general as you dare enter the room with the food and drink on a tray.

You can hear him breathing. That's much, much better than earlier. The fact that he doesn't really acknowledge you doesn't surprise you, either. If anything, the fact that he's looking at you as you set the tray down is the biggest anomaly. He doesn't follow you. He has too little energy to even begin caring, which you can't blame him for. So this — this is new. And concerning when he doesn't sit up upon seeing the food.

Guilt? A need to hide? The mask and the fact that you've never seen anything of him until now tell you it's the latter. He might not have had any energy, but he did keep you from something, likely only draining him further. It's why you hadn't fought him when he'd asked for your presence on the floor. He needs it, craves a presence he doesn't have to explain everything to. And you have been for the past three months. Something you find absolutely heartbreaking.

"I made some soup and chai. Hope you like it."

And more heartbreaking still is the way he grabs your wrist as you attempt to leave.

You turn to him. Let him pull at your wrist and have you sit on the edge of the bed. He does not let go, though, instead nearing you and settling against your back, curling up there with his shell to the door.

Even if he didn't refuse your offer of getting on your lap before you sit on your bed so that he can, you know it's for protection. It's not the first time he does it, either, even if it's completely unconscious. He cares. More than he lets you or anyone else know. And you're almost willing to bet that's what's breaking him.

He loves. He's just… so tied up in whatever else he has to do that it's not showing properly.

You carefully, sweetly touch his head, something he welcomes with a stretch of the neck and a quiet whimper. You smile as he relaxes, using your lap as a resting spot, and tears no longer in his eyes. He doesn't sleep, not quite, but he chirps, trills, and nudges your hand if you so much as stop petting him. Like a cat, he refuses to let you go until he's had his fill and you're honestly very much fine with it, certainly when, after enough coaxing, you manage to get him to sit and eat.

In fact, the only thing that bothers you is his phone the second it starts ringing, prompting you to fiddle with his hoodie and collect the phone to see who it is.

Another turtle. This one red and massive. Raph is the name on screen. Doesn't stop you from wanting to throw the phone across the room or shutting it down before you resume feeding and petting the one you know to be a slider.

They're supposed to be tolerant to cold. Resistant to brumation. You wonder how badly he's been worn down for this to happen. You also hate the fact that it's making you feel almost violently protective to the point where you want to lash out at the other turtle for treating your friend like this.

… Maybe you should have taken that call. Just to know his name. Then again, you don't want to ruin the trust between the both of you, no matter how little there is. He is at his weakest and he doesn't need to be tested further.

"You think you're up for a warm bath now that you've eaten?"

Besides, from the nod you feel against your shoulder, you have other ways to communicate with him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

He doesn’t fight you. He doesn’t do much of anything, actually, as you scrub him clean. He only blinks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time once you’re done. He only lets you help him out of the bath and halfway back to your room when his hand lets go of yours and he — he looks away as if caught doing something, being somewhere he shouldn’t be.

“Where — where’s my stuff?”

And you realize why very quickly.

“Your clothes are in the bathroom and your phone is in my bedroom.”

“… Did I… get a call?”

“You did. From someone called Raph. I didn’t pick up.”

He’s awake. He’s coherent. His brain has finally caught up.

“… I have to go.”

And his thoughts and words hurt more than you’re comfortable with.

“Go get your clothes, then. I’ll go grab your phone.”

He looks at you with doubt, but turns around and heads back. You enter your bedroom and collect the blue jacketed phone before walking back to the bathroom where the slider is slipping on his hoodie, having already worked through his pants. You set said phone on the sink where he can see it as he works on his shoes next, unsurprised to hear him soon babbling to someone about trackers and getting someone off his ass for something. What surprises you is the tone. It’s animated, filled with a dramatic drawl and flair you had yet to hear from the slider. It’s nothing like you’ve heard, and it makes you realize just why he’s so drained, certainly when you hear “big bro” from his lips.

You cover your mouth. Your eyes burn. He ends the call and leaves your bathroom before anything else can happen, though and, just from the smile that meets you, you know you can’t cry.

“I’m afraid I gotta go. Someone’s breathing down my neck and might break the building if I don’t get going.”

There’s no point in it, after all.

“I’m… sorry I kept you.”

“You’re fine, sweetheart. Things just happen you know?”

“I guess. Do you –?”

“I know my way out. No worries.”

You’ve already lost him.

He gets to your living room where he takes to your window instead of your door. You feel your face hurt as you watch him expertly jump onto the sill.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Will I see you again?”

And it near contorts in pain as you watch his face, his persona break for a second, an instant in which you get your answer.

No. You won’t. You will never ever see the slider again. He’s no longer safe with you, and it has nothing to do with you.

“We’ll see.”

You watch him jump away. You feel your heart break. And you wonder if you could have done anything differently… while knowing there was never another option.

Ok don’t mind me crying about this over here.

THIS👆🏼👆🏼👆🏼 right here is I why I love the boys so much. For the longest time I struggled with the belief that I was only important or had value if I could do something to help other people. If I wasn’t “producing” or being a boone in every situation, then I literally felt like nothing. If something wrong happened, than it was instantly my fault because I wasn’t good enough.

For YEARS I’ve wrestled with this internal self loathing, but for the first time ever…I’m growing out of that? There’s a “Sprout” of hope if you will. That’s what these stories mean to me: Hope🧡🌱

I can learn to love myself with all my “kinds of special” and with that love help others recognize their own awesomeness. i find it interesting that both Omega and Speout are buddies. Because Omega in the Greek alphabet is the last letter, and he was kind of designed with the intent to be the last one standing. But “standing” next to “Sprout” who is the embodiment of taking what was left before and growing into something new, is kinda lowkey poetically beautiful for me. A literal example of the beginning AND the end. and goodness is it inspiring. I’m so grateful to be alive at the same time as the great minds of @kathaynesart and @intotheelliwoods

I have been meaning to do a crossover with the one and only @kathaynesart for such a long time! And the @tmntaucompetition has created the perfect excuse for this :)

I think Sprout and Omega would have a surprising amount in common, they have a lot they can talk about with one another!

Apologies for the cliffhanger- haha- whoops-

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

This awesome animation is made by @tapakah0

AU made by somerandomdudelmao

FLASHING LIGHTS!