Mellamo-llama

“No can, man.” “Mike, you got this.”   “I dunno, dude. That’s, like, a thirty-foot face right there.”   They both stop to watch a surfer frantically ditch his board midair, limbs pinwheeling like crazy. It’s a long way down before he finally crashes into the boiling surf.   “….Yeah.”   Mike keeps nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other: right, left, right, left.   Raph sympathizes, but he also knows they’re not going to get another chance like this again. Renet can only hold the inter-dimensional time warp thingy open for so long, so he rustles up the mo

Splinter dies first. It begins with a watery cough, then quickly dovetails into a raging fever. The hemorrhaging starts a week later. By then, their father is hardly more than a skeleton under thinly-stretched skin. When his heart finally gives out, it’s almost a relief, though nobody dares say it out loud.   Leonardo never leaves their father’s side, even when the stench of death permeates every room in the lair. He’s inconsolable. And violent. Raphael has to forcibly restrain him from attacking Donatello when their brother finally comes to take the body away.   A couple of days later, Leonardo starts coughing. Donatello im

Heading for a Spin It’s somewhere around the sixth beer when he realizes he might’ve had a bit too much. The world’s taken on a dim, hazy sort of quality, and he’s not entirely sure he can even stand at the moment, let alone make it off the roof in one piece.   To test his theory, he takes out a sai and attempts to spin it over his hand. It promptly drops to the concrete with a loud clang. Yup. Definitely drunk. Raphael gives a half-shrug and cracks open another can. Of course Leo’s probably pacing a trench in the lair right about now, gearing up to launch another one of his diatribes the moment Raph so much a

Warning: tcest implications He awoke to darkness. The silence broken only by his own labored breathing. “Mike,” Leonardo called out, his voice a forced whisper. He heard Michelangelo’s pained moan coming from somewhere up ahead. “Leo…” came the shuddering reply. Still alive. The fear settled a little lower in his stomach, and he let out an inward sigh. “Mikey, you hurt?” “…S’my leg.” “Okay, hang on. I’m coming.” Trying to clamp down on the sudden wave of dizziness that sent pinpricks of light skittering across his vision, Leo started toward the sou