SWTW - Blog Posts

ROTTMNT : SPIRITS WITHIN THE WEAPONS

Masterpost

Night Grafiti

Plot: Fundi watches Michelangelo as he works his magic.

Genre: Fluff, Light Hearted, Feel-Good, Original Character, AU/Canon Compliant

Notes: This piece was so much fun to write and designing some art for Miley to graffiti was exciting. I nearly drove myself crazy trying to find a name for the art though. Also, Google Docs has American English and not British English (as far as I am aware), which is really annoying for me as a British person since it keeps telling me I'm spelling words like 'Colours' and 'Favourite' wrong… when really I'm not. Sigh. Anyway...

I also drew art for this! I drew the graffiti Mikey paints! I'll add it at the end.

Please enjoy!

Idea based on this playlist and art work, (original artist mentioned in video description).

Perched on the edge of a roof of an old New York apartment, Fundi had both a perfect view of the clear night sky, adorned with a bright crescent moon; and the young black-clad turtle using his fingers to frame the wall before him. The turtle stuck his tongue out to the side as he stepped back, visualizing all the possibilities an untouched wall like this could hold. The colours. Shapes. Story. Theme. It was endless. He could do anything with this blank canvas. 

Fundi smirked, leaning forward with anticipation as he noticed the young turtle's thoughtful expression turn into a bright grin, brighter than the moon itself. Michelangelo has come up with his next brilliantly artistic idea. And Fundi couldn't wait to see what the orange-masked turtle would turn his blank canvas into. 

This wasn't the first time Fundi had joined Michelangelo in trekking the back alleys of New York to look for a good spot to place his mark, and it certainly won't be the last. Michelangelo wore his usual graffiting outfit: a pair of black cargo shorts and a baggy sleeveless black hoodie. Both of which were already coated in new and old splashes of neon paint. Bright pinks, blues, greens, purples, and his favourite shades of oranges.  

Michelangelo shrugged off his backpack and used his foot to shift the bag closer to the wall. He never took his eyes off his canvas. Sure the lighting was bad. The building was blocking out most of the moonlight and the alley was too far back for street lamps to reach him. But that had never put Michelangelo off before. In fact, it only added to the challenge. And Michelangelo loved a challenge. 

He bent down, still eyes fixed on the wall, and fumbled around to find the zip on his bag. It took him a moment, but soon he had the bag wide open, pouring out a wide assortment of colourful spray canisters, some new, some old. Finally he tore his attention away from the wall and mused over what colour to pick first.

He chose white. 

A colour he didn't usually start with.

Fundi knew this was going to be special 

Michelangelo got started on his art. 

Fundi shifted from the edge of the roof down onto a dumpster behind the young artists. He swayed from side to side, watching keenly each stroke Michelangelo painted. The turtle stretched his arm out wide, huge circular movements, long wobbly lines, bold and thick corners, tiny details, filling the whole wall. He even had to stand on an old crate to reach as high as he could. 

It was all so fascinating to the Kusari-Fundo Spirit. 

Fundi remembers the first day he watched Michelangelo graffiti a wall. 

He was sitting on the floor in front of Leonardo, Donatello and Raphael as they watched an old Jupiter Jim film, a film the turtles had seen multiple times before, but this was the first time Fundi had watched it. He was glued to the screen. Transfixed. Awed. The most entertained he'd been in… years? Decades? Ever? 

But he didn't miss the fact that Michelangelo wasn't there. His wielder mentioned something about "getting ready to work his magic", whatever that meant, but Fundi found the film more interesting.

That was until Michelangelo walked out wearing painted cargo shorts and a sleeveless hoodie. Fundi quickly jumped, startling Tonfa who had been focused on the film as well. Eyes wide in wonder. Suddenly whatever this "magic" was that Michelangelo had mentioned was the most interesting thing to him. The turtles hardly ever wore human clothes, and when they did, it usually meant something fun was going to happen. (Unless it was their usual lazy hoodies, but that didn't count)

"I'll be back later, 'kay." The youngest sang out merrily as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. 

"'Kay." Leonardo waved without taking his eyes off the screen.

"Be safe." Raphael leaned back over his beanbag, holding out his phone with his usual oldest brother concern. "Text or call us if anything happens. Don't wander too far away from the lair. Make sure to bring snacks and a bottle of water. Stay in the shadows—"

"Yeah, yeah, Ralph." Michelangelo chuckled. "It's not like I haven't done this before." 

The elder turtle frowned a little, opening his mouth to say something when he felt one of Donatello's mechanical arms pat him on his shell. Raphael calmed with this motion. It was Donatello's way of telling him that everything was alright. 

The red‐clad turtle playfully huffed a little before he slouched back into the beanbag with a small smile. "Have fun, Mikey." 

The youngest beamed at that. Quickly running up behind his oldest brother to wrap his arms around his neck. "I will. And I'll make sure to take a pic of my art when I've finished it, 'kay?"

"Art?" Fundi muttered with a tilted head and a curious flicker in his flaming eyes. 

Raphael half hugged him back with a chuckle. "Go work your magic, lil bro."

"Magic?" Fundi repeated curiously. 

With a skip in his step and a wide grin on his face, the orange turtle made haste in leaving the lair, heading to top-side. 

Fundi hung back a bit. Debating on what to do now. The film was very fun, but surely the turtles would watch it again, right? Whereas the mention of "magic" and "art" was new but it could also be something just equally as boring. He had no idea which option was better. 

"Don?" Leonardo nudged his twin without turning away from the screen.

"Yeah, yeah. There's a tracking device on him and in his bag. I'll keep an eye on his location." The purple turtle stated lightly. 

Everyone relaxed when they heard that. Fundi had no idea the turtles were so nervous about the youngest going out by himself until their tight postures fell and they all let out a sigh of relief. 

Okay, so maybe going with Michelangelo was the funner option. Afterall, anything could happen top-side. The endless possibilities of trouble, mayhem and mischief—not at the expense of Michelangelo getting hurt of course— was too much to miss. His eyes glistened at the thought. 

"You can go if you want." Tonfa giggled at the youngest spirit. Of course Tonfa knew what was going on in his head, Tonfa always knew what was going on in Fundi's head. "And if Oda asked, I'll just tell him you're making sure Michelangelo stays safe." 

Tonfa didn't need to tell him twice. 

Magic and art… there was no way it would be boring.

Right?

…..

Wrong.

It was boring. 

Fundi zipped back to the Kusari-Fundo that Michelangelo wisely kept at his side, utilizing a handy ability all the spirits had: an ability to teleport to their weapons no matter how far away their weapon was. It certainly saved him from having to search through the sewers and alleys above for the orange‐clad turtle. 

Only to find the turtle staring at a blank wall. 

Was that it?

What was so exciting about a blank, brick, alleyway wall?

Fundi muttered his incoherent annoyances, kicking a lone can that was abandoned on the alley floor, knowing full well his foot would just pass through without affecting the crushed cylinder. But that didn't stop him from trying to do it again. And again. And again. 

"I missed a Jupiter Jim film for this!" He fumed.

He hovered around, paying no attention to the turtle, wondering if he could make it back to their lair by himself. Oh, but he didn't have an ounce of a sense of direction. He'd only get lost and then have to zip back to the Kusari-Fundo. He tried to play with a stray cat, which obviously couldn't see him. Then tried to pull off some of Michaelangelo's awesome gymnastic-type moves… if Funding was not a spirit he would've broken quite a few bones trying this. But at last, nothing eased his boredom. (If only Oda was around, teasing the elder always gave him a kick.)

Finally, he flung his attention back to the wall, eager to burn the offending bricks with his frustrated flames, when his eyes caught something new. He sputtered out a gasp. 

The wall, once drab and grey, with old crusty bricks barely holding themselves together, was now… magical!

Michelangelo really had worked wonders on the wall. Stunning arrays of yellows spread out across the side of the building forming large bubbles outlined with a deep sunset orange. Weaving in between the bubbles were vines of turquoise and teal, purple thorns poking out in between large blue and pink carnations. Lastly, slightly off-center was the centerpiece of the magical art: a black silhouette of a female warrior holding up a phone instead of a sword and a book instead of a shield. She looked to be ready for war. 

Truly magical.

Fundi had never been more wrong. 

He was glad he didn't stay in the lair.  

He had never been so enthralled in his life—outside of a fight of course. 

This is what art was!

That first experience of Michelangelo's art sparks a new adoration for the turtle in Fundi. Now, whenever Michelangelo threw on those old black baggy graffiting clothes Fundi felt his stomach churn with anticipation. He'd drop whatever he was doing just to follow Michelangelo out on his night graffiti trips. Each new piece of art was different. Unique. Unmatched by anyone else. 

And tonight was no different. 

A surreal fantasy world opened up before him. A sky of deep midnight blues and royal purples, speckled with countless starts and adorned with gigantic pink, purple and orange planets. The orange planet was the biggest, taking up most of the sky with two red rings circling it. A small black spaceship was flying along one of the rings, a trail of bright neon blue left behind. And a person in white hovered above the rocky red grounding at the forefront like a ghost. A gasmask around their face, long silver hair floating in the anti-gravity air. Colours of crimson and black outlined them in a bright glow. They were watching, waiting for the spaceship that was miles away. 

Fundi couldn't take his eyes off it. The longer he stared at it the more he felt from the graffiti. The longing from the person in white. The awe of the vastness of space. The thrill of an incoming adventure as the spaceship came into view. 

The art was profound.

The art was endless.

The art was magical.

Only Michelangelo could've painted such a piece. 

Looking at it, Fundi felt himself grow closer to the turtle more and more. 

This is his new favourite of Michelangelo's art.

Fundi approached slowly. He reached out to drape his arm over the young turtle only for it to pass right through him. Michelangelo shuddered as he whipped out his phone and took a pic of his work. 

"What should I call it?" The young turtle asked absentmindedly, not realizing that there was someone listening to him.

"Hmm?" Fundi pondered. "Space wonder? The orange planet? Awaiting adventure? Planetary journey? Orbital?—"

"Orbital ghost!" Both Fundi and Michelangelo said at the same time.

Fundi gasped. "I knew I had telepathy!"  

~End~

ROTTMNT: SPIRITS WITHIN THE WEAPONS

Masterpost

That's not usual.

Plot: Oda is up alone while everyone is sleeping when Leonardo does something unusual. 

Genre: Fluff/Slight Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet, Family-Feels, Original Character, AU/Cannon Compliant

Notes: This was meant to be a much shorter fluff drabble, but it ended up being over 2,000 words. Oh well, this is my first short fic for Spirits Within The Weapons (SWTW). I'm not planning on writing a full fic for SWTW but I am hoping to write quite a few drabble pieces like this. 

I hope you enjoy reading. 

Oda lifted the Odachi in front of his eyes, admiring the sharp blade glistening under the pale blue glow of his ghostly form. Then he frowned. It wasn't perfect. It could still be sharper. He lowered the sword down again and started meticulously running it along the whetstone. Slow, precise, skilful. He repeated this calming action a few more times before lifting the blade to examine it again. His focused expression lifted into a pleased slim grin. It was sharpened to perfection. There wasn't anything this Odachi couldn't cut now. 

If only he could rely on the weapon's wielder to care for the blade himself. But then again, it was Oda's obsessive need to not see the weapon go blunt that made young Leonardo take for granted the need to sharpen it himself. Instead, the turtle found it magically sharpened the next day and never questioned it. In other words, Oda had spoiled Leonardo. He'll probably regret that in the future. But for now, sharpening the Odachi was his favorite pastime while all the others slept. 

Each of the young turtles had turned in for the night, having had a very exciting day of chasing down a magician hippo and the self-imposed "greatest foe of the teenage mutant loser turtles"… a talking worm. Warren Stone and Hypno-Potamus. Warren Stone and Hypno-Potamus. He mustn't take on the habits of the youngsters to forget the names of those that pose a danger—however slim that danger may be— to innocent civilians. Oda was wiser, nobler and more honorable than that to forget anyone's names. Though he will excuse the young turtles for doing so, they were still children after all. 

Fundi on the other hand had no excuse. The spirit occupying the Kusari-Fundo may look and act young, but Oda knew that he was ancient one way or another. He may not have lived long on earth (Oda finds that Fundi turns into a mindset of a young child when he's caught in a flashback of old, old memories), but he has been a spirit for too long not to have matured during that time. Tonfa seems to encourage Fundi's youthfulness though. And Oda doesn't like to disagree with the Tonfas inhibitor. Not because he's currently the size of a huge half-alligator-snapping-turtle-half-human mutant, but because Tonfa has done a lot to help Fundi deal with his flashback episodes. Tonfa knows Fundi. Oda knows Tonfa. And so Oda will trust Tonfa when he says to leave the fiery spirit to live a youthful lifestyle. But that also means Tonfa cannot complain when Oda repremans Fundi for his sometimes too destructive behavior. 

Thankfully both spirits were in a sleep-like state. Being that the spirits don't actually sleep, the closest they can get to such an act is to withdraw back into their weapons and enter a space only the individual can access. Like an inner mind or a dreamscape. It's restful in itself. Peaceful and safe. And it also leaves Oda time alone to mediate, practice his sword-skills and sharpen the blade of the Odachi. 

He was blissfully alone. 

In the rarely silent lair. 

Peaceful.

Relaxing.

Still.

Footsteps.

…?

Footsteps?

Oda turned to look where the soft sounds of footsteps where coming from. If it had been anyone else they probably wouldn't have noticed the slowly approaching sound and could've been unaware of an impending attack. But this was Oda. Oda had honed all his senses to an impeccable level. Oda had also memorized the sounds and scents of all four turtles, their rat-man father and their human friend. 

So even before the culprit behind the footsteps was within sight, Oda knew who it was.

Leonardo plodded into the kitchen unknowingly passing Oda on the way. Usually Oda would've moved fast to put the Odachi back where Leonardo last left it, however, right now he knew there was no need for such haste. The huge black bags under the teenagers eyes, the slump in his shoulders, endless yawning, and defeated aura told Oda all he needed to know. Leonardo's insomnia had gotten the better of him tonight. 

"Oh Leonardo" 

Oda followed his wielder to the kitchen, sitting himself on a stool with his fingers fidgeting restlessly on the table. What he would do to be able to—no, thinking about such wasn't helpful to anyone. He couldn't communicate with nor touch the young turtles in any way, so wishing so would be meaningless. If he so wanted to he could dwell on such later, after Leonardo was better. Leonardo takes priority now. Not that there was anything he could do. 

Although…. He could pick up the Odachi and wave it around to make his presence known. Leonardo would be able to see the weapon flying around the air by itself… and then would probably scream. Oda would effectively be making the child believe he was seeing things in his sleepless state. Frightening the poor thing to death. Then, even if the others did believe Leonardo about a floating Odachi, or even if Oda shows the others by making it float in front of them too, ghost hunters would be called. Donatello would be making anti-spirits weapons. Panic. Fear. More sleepless nights. Oda wouldn't be helping anyone that way. Plus it'll be a terrible first introduction. 

He was overthinking it.

He needed to meditate. 

Clear his head. 

But first Leonardo. 

Usually Leonardo would make himself a cup of tea and either carry it into Donatello's lab to sit and watch his twin work, or sit at the kitchen table drinking it idly and then wander into either Raphael's or Michaelangelo's room and sleep there. Curiously though, tonight, Leonardo decided to make himself a coffee. That's not usual. Then the young turtle stumbled with the hot mug into the living quarters, flicking on the projector to an old Jupiter Jim flick they've all watched a zillion times on an almost silent volume, and slouched comfortably into one of the well-used beanbags. Next, he slipped off his blue mask and sipped the hot coffee, mindless of what was on the screen. Very unusual. 

Oda stood behind Leonardo, one eyeridge raised suspiciously, pondering over what this unusual action meant. Steady a saddened frown formed on his features as he slowly figured out what was going on with his wielder. 

Leonardo was determined not to go back to sleep. Coffee and a film to stay awake instead of tea and the comfort of his brothers to fall asleep. This wasn't just insomnia. This was nightmares. 

Oda knew all too well how disorienting, unnerving and isolating nightmares can be. He couldn't blame the youngster for not wanting to close his eyes for the rest of the night. But to not go to his brothers… that was unusual.

He flicked his gaze over the clock on the wall. The others won't be up for many hours. He knew Leonardo knew this and yet the turtle made no move to wake anyone up. The nightmare must've been about his brothers in some way. The fear of losing them by his mistakes? Of them hating him? Abandonment? Hurt? Guilt? The list was endless. Obviously, Leonardo didn't want his brothers to know about his nightmares. Not yet anyway. That was concerning. 

What could Oda do to help though?

He was an unseeable, untouchable spirit. 

He was…

No, he wasn't useless.

For sure Leonardo would've been much more hurt—or worse— if Oda hadn't been watching his back. 

But right now, while the child was scared and alone, Oda felt useless. 

He settles on sitting on the beanbag next to the young turtle, keeping an eye on him like he always did. Maybe in the still of the lair Leonardo would sense his presence… wishful thinking. 

It was rare for all four brothers to be asleep at the same time. Leonardo usually did stay awake late before going to bed, and, with the help of a few useful methods, his insomnia wasn't as big a problem as it could be. He had plenty of restless nights, sure, he'd gone three days without sleep at one point—Oda would've strangled the young turtle during those nights if he could, or maybe just hug him— but with tea, help from his brothers and ASMR, he had learned ways to overcome a fair few of his restless nights. 

Donatello was the other with sleeping problems. Honestly, if it wasn't for how similar the two can be despite their countless differences, Oda would never have pointed them out as twins. But at least with Donatello it wasn't insomnia keeping him awake. No, it was hyperfixation. His machines. Computers. Ideas. Designs. Plans. Games even. Once the purple-turtle got fixated on something, that was it. Hooked… for days… and nights. Unhealthy so. Okay, so maybe Donatello was worse than Leonardo on that front. At least Leonardo wasn't the one keeping himself awake, his insomnia did that to him. Donatello just didn't want to sleep when something else seemed so much more appealing. 

Miraculously though, Donatello was too knackered to stay awake any longer and welcomed sleep with ease. Wrapped up in an extra soft, weighted blanket. Probably still snoring lightly since the last time Oda did his usual night checks on them all. That's one less person for Oda to think about at least. 

Raphael and Michelangelo were easy when it came to sleep. The pair were diligent in keeping a healthy sleep schedule. They knew the value and importance of sleep, and even if they struggled on some occasions to get to sleep, or nightmares woke them up, they gave themselves a nice breather before trying again. Which usually worked a treat. And if it didn't work, snuggling up with one or more of their siblings always worked.  

So only two out of four were a handful when it came to bedtime. That's not too bad. It could be worse. 

It was worse for Leonardo right now though. 

Hours pass by. Three Jupiter Jim and one Lou Jitsu film later, three cups of coffee, (which is a alot coming from someone who typically did not enjoy coffee much), and half a tub of neapolitan ice cream later and Leonardo was still alone. His brothers will wake up soon enough, but the lair was still deafeningly quiet. At least that's what Leonardo knew.

In reality, halfway through the second film, Fundi and Tonfa woke up. Fundi, determined to get up to his same old antics to annoy Oda, stormed in loudly with a mischievous fire in his eyes. However, the fire quickly dimmed when he spotted Leonardo sitting solely on the beanbag inches away from the huge screen. Oda shushed him and Fundi smirked. 

"It's not like he can hear me, y'know." The Michelangelo look-alike said playfully. 

"Insomnia?" Tonfa mused as he ignored Fundi to sit on a beanbag on the other side of Leonardo. "Wait, no…. Nightmares." He whispered and he hunched up his shoulders. Tonfa may not have any memories before being a spirit, and spirits can't get nightmares, so he doesn't know what nightmares feel like, but he has seen the effects on the brothers. He hates seeing anyone in such pain and torment. It honestly breaks Tonfa's heart to see such a fun-loving, boisterous teenager suffering like this. 

Oda knew the feeling. 

If they could, Oda knows Fundi and Tonfa would've stopped at nothing to help Leonardo, but they couldn't. So they sat with the lonesome teenager hoping he would somehow feel their presence and be somewhat comforted while they all waited for the others to wake up. 

It's the quietest Fundi has been in… years? Decades? Ever? Sadly, this time, quiet wasn't what was needed. 

Not long later, Michelangelo woke up to start breakfast and Leonardo wasted no time barging after the orange brother while tying his mask back on. With his usual playful tone, he bombarded the youngest with a request for pancakes and fruit for breakfast. Oda spotted the quick glance Michelangelo gave Leonardo, head to foot, knowing the observant orange turtle was piecing together what had happened during the night. His eyes flicked to the coffee jar Leonardo had accidently left open on the side. The bags under his eyes. The credits from a film on the big screen.

Michelangelo didn't hesitate to make the pancakes and slice up the fruit. 

Raphael joined not long later and caught on just as quickly. He gave Leonardo the mission to drag Donatello from bed, which he completed quickly by dragging his twin and half the bed sheets into the kitchen moments later. Their father walked in not long after. 

The spirits also joined them in the kitchen for breakfast, just as they usually did. Fundi sat like a cat on top of the kitchen counters—despite how many times Oda has told him not to. Tonfa leaned against the side of the fridge, as far out of the way as he could. And Oda stood in the doorway, watching with a small almost unnoticeable smile as the four brothers and their father chatted away. There was still one of them missing, but that's a problem for another day. 

As he watched, all Oda could think about was that, even if he couldn't do anything to help Leonardo himself, he's thankful that Leonardo had brothers who do care about him. Who notice such small things in him. Who will give Leonardo time before asking questions. And will be patient and understanding when he does talk. 

"He's in good hands," Oda muttered to himself. He choked back a chuckle as the blue-clad turtle flung his pancake like a Frisby at the still half-asleep Donatello only to miss and quickly find a few slices of banana slap him on the face in retaliation. "Back to the usual."

~End~