Archive of Our Own ^beta

Panting breathlessly and beads of sweat clinging uncomfortably to his skin, Tommy switched to a one handed grip on his sword and offered Leo a hand up.

Leo let Tommy pull him back to his feet, "You're getting really good at this. You sure I can't bring portals into the mix?" He joked.

To which Tommy straightened up with pride at the praise, "Fuck yeah, I learned straight from The Blade himself-" he waved his sword away to wipe sweat from his forehead, "-and no, portals are definitely still fucking cheating," he insisted with a wrinkling of his nose.

Leo shrugged, “Worth a try.” He crossed the garage to grab their water bottles and tossed one at Tommy, “Who’s ‘The Blade?’”

Holy shit, it was still so weird living in a place where Technoblade and Philza weren’t common household legends.

Twisting open the cap of his bottle (that Tommy caught without any fumbling this time), Tommy pondered the best words to describe the sheer badassery that was the Technoblade.

"You wanna know 'bout The Blade?" Tommy asked in a grizzled tone, taking a long swing of his water before continuing, "Yes… Yes, I can tell you about The Blade. Some call him the Blood God, others call him Technoblade. A warrior as good at combat as he is horrible at having a normal fucking conversation that’s not about hating the government.” Leftover annoyance from several such instances seeped into his voice.

Tommy scowled lightly, “Seriously, you can go, ‘hello Techno! How was your day?’ And he’d be all like, ‘Mmm, alright. The government kind of ruined it by existing though,’ like a fucking dumbass,” He deepened his voice and did his best American accent to imitate Techno’s classic monotone drawl.

Leo snorted, but didn’t further interrupt Tommy’s impromptu rant. 

Tommy shook his head heavily, “Whatever, doesn’t matter. Point is, Techno’s fucking awesome at pvp. He’s even better than Dream," he spoke with reverence, feeling the ghost of a grin on his face.

Leo fell into a comfortable lean against the side of the turtle tank, “Oh yeah? And I take it this Dream guy’s pretty strong where you come from?”

The question made Tommy falter, hand twitching tighter around his water bottle. He looked away just in case his expression started doing anything weird, “Mhm. Bit of a wrongen too, if you catch my drift. Real piece of work, that prick is.” He fought to keep his tone lighthearted, he wasn’t sure how successful that was.

Deep breaths, count back from ten, Tommy reminded himself, doing his best to self regulate before the stress had a chance to build.

Swallowing back his nerves, he plastered a hearty smile onto his face, “Anyway! Enough about that dumbass, let’s get back to The Blade!” Tommy swiftly diverted back to the original topic.

He pulled out his communicator, "You've actually seen a picture of him before, look." Tommy skimmed hastily through the camera reel before stopping on one of his few photos featuring Techno.

Leo walked over to peer curiously at the screen. He squinted at the tiny comm screen, "Oh yeah, pig guy. This is Technoblade?”

A grin tugged on the corner of Tommy’s lips as he recalled the moment captured in the photo, "Yep. This one was pretty shortly after he found me living under his basement- that's when he gave me the title of raccoon," he revealed, wiggling his fingers as though he was departing ancient knowledge upon Leo.

Leo's expression shifted into something like amused disbelief, "You make a habit out of living uninvited in other people's homes?"

Tommy looked up as he considered the question for a few seconds. Did he make a habit of living in other people's homes without their knowledge?

Hmm…

He shook his head as he finally came to what he believed to be the correct conclusion, "Nope. Just Techno and then you guys. I don't think two times is enough to call it a habit yet," Tommy decided.

Leo pat him on the head, "If you say so, bud."

What the fuck is this personal slight against Tommy? 

Tommy narrowed his eyes, "Stop patronizing me, prick. I'll clart you," he scowled.

Leo reeled back, "Wha- oh, come on, that was not me patronizing you! I was just- I-" he seemed oddly lost for words.

Tommy dropped his gaze back down to his comm, swiftly moving on, "He was pretty mad at first, but then- I don't know, I guess I was in a bit of a fucking state, because then he just… Started cooking."

Tommy hadn't really known what to think back then. His brain was all scrambled, ping-ponging between being terrified that Dream would find him and the impulse to run back to the beach and pretend nothing ever happened.

And despite how frustrated and exasperated Tommy knew Techno felt with him, the piglin had dropped a thick fuzzy blanket over the teen. Told him to warm up by the fire, pulled out a big metal pot, and got to washing and chopping vegetables. 

"I don't actually remember why I took this photo. Guess it was sort of like proof that I really escaped," Tommy spoke in a near mumble, mostly talking to himself.

Except Leo was standing right beside him, so of course he heard it, "Escaped?"

Tommy's heart froze in his chest. He resolutely did not look over at Leo.

Play it cool.

Tommy clicked to the next photo, a selfie of him buried among Techno’s hound army, with a noncommittal hum, "Like I said, Dream's a real dickhead. We- we- we didn't really get along, y'know? I would do something that pissed him off- existing- and he would take away anything and everyone I ever loved. And that's- that's fine. It's all fine. Everything’s-" Tommy snapped his mouth shut when he realized that not only was he getting louder, but his words were also speeding up alongside his pounding heart.

So much for playing it cool.

Eyes looking anywhere but Leo, Tommy shoved his communicator into his pocket, "Sorry, um, I think- I think I'm done for today," he said quietly, words short to limit their ability to waver and betray the lump in his throat.

Clutching his water bottle with both hands, Tommy hastily fled the garage before Leo could say anything back.

Just a word away from falling apart, Tommy had only one destination in mind. The little bedroom he'd been allowed to call his own.

And then he could hide under his comforter for the rest of the day where nobody would dare to bother his pathetic self.

But shit could never be that easy. Because fuck Tommy, right?

Standing in between Tommy and the hallway to sweet sweet safety, also known as his bedroom- Donnie, Raph, and Mikey were taking turns doing tricks on the skate ramp.

You know, the thing cutting through the middle of the big rec-room? The thing that turned Tommy’s path into a high speed traffic zone?

Squeezing his plastic water bottle periodically, Tommy took a deep breath in. Held it. Then let it all out.

Everything was fine. He'd just… Announce his presence, get them to pause in their fun, and then scurry past before Mikey could try to pull him into a conversation.

Easy peasy.

Tommy tried with minimal success to wash away the lump in his throat with a gulp of water, returning the bottle to his inventory before taking a step forward and catching Mikey’s eye.

Mikey lit up at the sight of him, stomping on the end of his skateboard to grab it with his hand, "Hey Tom-Tom!" He waved exuberantly down at Tommy from the top of the ramp.

Tommy waved back, albeit with less enthusiasm, and put on a smile, "Ayup. 'Ow do?" Sentences short, don't let him hear your voice shake.

Something twitched in Mikey's expression, "We were just trying out some sweet tricks. Wanna watch? Ooh, actually, do you wanna try? You can borrow my board if you want!" He held up his skateboard.

Raph pounded his fist against his palm, grinning, "Yeah! I was totally wrecking them too!"

Donatello, thankfully, had nothing to add. Only watched Tommy with bland disinterest.

Laughing nervously, Tommy waved his hands and shook his head, "No thank you! Maybe, um, next time?" He was hurrying across the room before the words were out of his mouth.

He left just in time to hear the beginnings of concerned murmuring shared between Mikey and Raph.

Tommy walked faster, just short of jogging to his bedroom and throwing himself face first onto his bed.

His clothes were still sweaty and clinging uncomfortably to his skin. Taking a shower definitely would have been a smart idea.

Groaning, Tommy pressed his face deeper into the comforter and hid his head under folded arms, "I'm such a fucking idiot." Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut?

Why did he have to start talking about Techno? Why did he talk about Dream?

Now Leo was going to start giving him those stupid pitying looks and prying questions that people always gave Tommy whenever he ran his mouth about Dream.

God fucking dammit. This was Tommy's clean slate, his fresh start!

Popping his head up from the blanket with a deep inhale before he could begin to suffocate, Tommy took out his comm again.

He tapped on buttons until he got to the actual communications part of his communicator. Finding Tubbo’s contact and opening up their chat log.

The last messages sent between them were from almost six months ago, and it was just Tubbo asking how Tommy was doing.

And what was Tommy's lackluster response?

That's right, 'Doing alright' with no follow up questions or anything.

After staring blankly at the screen for a little while, Tommy started typing.

<Tommyinnit> Hey Tubso. It’s been a minute since we’ve chatted, huh?

<Message Failed To Send>

“Yeah, well I didn’t expect it to, dickhead,” he grumbled, punching in another message that his friend would never see.

<Tommyinnit> I’m not dead yet. I got Drista to toss me to another server a little while ago. It’s pretty sick

<Tommyinnit> There are so many people everywhere, like, as much as Hypixel, maybe more. I’m still not sure if you’d love it or hate it here

<Tommyinnit> I’ve been living in the sewers with four turtle hybrids and their rat dad

<Tommyinnit> they’re all pretty cool

<Tommyinnit> Except for Donatello, I still don’t like that dickhead he’s too

<Tommyinnit> Idk he’s just a jerk. He acts all pretentious and smarter than everyone just because he knows big words and builds complex redstone things that take up a tenth of the space

<Tommyinnit> You two would probably get along though

<Tommyinnit> And then he’d be a jerk AND a friend stealer

Tommy’s thumbs hovered over the buttons, hesitating before typing one last thing.

<Tommyinnit> I miss you

<Messages Failed To Send>

A violent stab of frustration pierced through Tommy at the redundant reminder highlighted in red. His communicator was being lobbed across the room with a wordless shout before he even realized what he was doing.

He didn’t turn his head to watch it slam against the wall, gathering his comforter and burying his face in the bunched up fabric again.

Seconds later, Tommy felt the familiar weight of his communicator reappear in his pocket. He was tempted to throw it again.

It's not like the stupid thing could even break.

The next however many minutes were spent wallowing in the over-complicated tangle of emotions he usually put so much effort into hiding under a mountain of jokes and deflection.

An existence that he wasn't so content to endure, but did anyway. Because it sure as hell beat facing the pity-filled expressions and concerned words from people who never gave a shit about him before.

Silence was eventually broken, first by quiet footsteps, then by Leo's voice, "Hey, are you awake?"

Oh goodie, the person Tommy basically started trauma dumping on earlier.

Tommy curled up, turning his back to Leo.

"...I'll take that as a yes." Leo's footsteps drew confidently closer.

The edge of the bed dipped under new weight, "We were gonna have a DDR showdown in a minute. Mikey ordered pizza, Donnie and Raph are putting together snacks, the works. Sooo… Wanna join us?" Leo asked, bed shifting more, presumably the teen leaning over.

Pizza? Snacks? Gaming?

Ough, this guy drove a hard bargain. Tommy did love pizza, snacks, and gaming.

Tommy rolled to lie on his other side, peering over at Leo with one eye, "What kind of snacks?" 

Slow grin creeping onto his face, Leo looked away with feigned nonchalance, "Oh, just the usual. Skittles, M&Ms, three different flavors of chips- oh, and Mikey's homemade nachos. But yeah, no, you probably wouldn't like it. You should probably just get back to pretending to sleep, way more fun," Leo drawled, cheeky bastard, having gotten up and started walking towards the doorway while he spoke.

Pouting the whole while, Tommy crawled out of bed, "I hate you." He crossed his arms and shuffled after Leo.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the worst. Now come on, I've got some nerds to crush, you included," Leo urged, hopping from foot to foot in his impatience.

Tommy frowned at Leo, "No you won't. You can't crush me. I am uncrushable. Like a sturdy pebble, I'll just slide away every time." He lowered his stance into something more gremlin adjacent, sliding into the hallway on socked feet.

Leo laughed, expression bright and nothing like what Tommy was expecting it to be after his earlier post-spar fuck up, "We'll see about that one."

The walk to the arcade felt kind of like Tommy was marching to his doom, he couldn't help but fear the worst. Feel that the moment he walked into the arcade he would be faced with pitying glances from Mikey and Raph.

That Leo told them all about his slip up and this was all just a ploy to have some bullshit ' you can tell us anything, we care about you' moment.

Leo’s general lighthearted demeanor throughout the short trek, made him a little less nervous. But it was still nowhere near enough to do anything about the heavy anxiety pooling in his gut.

Tommy stuck his hands stiffly into his pockets, holding back the urge to walk close enough to Leo that their arms would brush. Struck with the childish desire to cling and hide from whatever awaited him in the arcade room.

He didn't though. In fact, Tommy went out of his way to keep an arm's length away- but good gods was the temptation ever there.

They made it to the arcade without incident. Donnie looked to be helping Mikey with the final preparations for on the snack table, Raph was doing some simple stretches nearby.

Leo didn't hesitate to command everyone's attention, "Your dancing king has officially arrived, gentleturtles! And with me, I bring my loveable court jester, Tommy!" He dipped into a brief bow with a wide gesture towards Tommy.

Suddenly finding himself put on the spot, Tommy said the first thing that came to mind, "Bazinga!"

Leo snorted, "See? What'd I tell you guys-" he threw an arm around Tommy's shoulders and pulled him into a side hug, "-hilarious!" 

The warmth from being pressed against Leo's side felt foreign on Tommy's skin. It almost felt too hot, but also like he wanted to stay there for the next hour.

Raph was still deep in a stretch when he looked at them with a smirk on his face, "Dancing king? You? Pfft, yeah right. Your score says otherwise, Leo," he teased.

Leo scoffed, "Uh, yeah. And? Raph," he sent right back around.

He left Tommy’s side to go snag some still steaming nachos from the snack table. An act that found Tommy trailing thoughtlessly after him, even while his eyes were drawn to the DDR machine. Bright neon pink emanating from the screen in wait for a player to select a song.

Mikey hopped up onto the dance pad's railing, looking out over the group with narrowed eyes. After flitting between everyone for a few seconds, his gaze settled on Tommy, "Hmm…" Mikey hummed, obviously considering something.

Right when Tommy was about to ask what the big idea was, Mikey pointed at him 

"I think Tommy should go first. And then you can come up with a username!" Mikey apparently decided with no consultation whatsoever.

Tommy wasn't about to turn down the opportunity to act like the most insufferable cocky dumbass though, so of course he said, "Fuck yeah, 'm gonna show you all how it's done. With all zero hours of my experience." He strutted up to the DDR machine with intentionally comical levels of confidence.

He hopped onto the dance pad and stomped on the down arrow, cycling through the song options.

After a few minutes of scrolling through the list, stopping for a couple seconds on each to listen to the preview, Donnie started to get annoyed.

"We get it, you're indecisive. Would you hurry it up and pick a song already?" Donnie snapped.

Tommy paused, thought for a second, and then turned his head to look at Donnie, "Which one's your least favourite?" He asked a totally innocuous question. 

A solid beat passed as Donnie stared back at him with a flat expression, "Whichever insufferable song I assume you'll like the most," he answered dryly.

Tommy wrinkled his nose at Donnie and went back to stomping on the down arrow.

After painstakingly cycling through the entire list, Tommy then proceeded to select the very first song. Not because he really liked it all that much- it was cool, but not his favourite- but he chose it in the hopes that it would tick Donnie off at least a little bit.

Judging by the strangled groan Tommy heard behind him, it worked.

Tommy was grinning like a smug idiot for the five seconds up until the song actually started.

Shit- coloured arrows came up from the bottom of the screen and Tommy scrambled to stomp on the right ones at the right times. A much harder task than he'd initially believed it to be.

A meaningless shriek escaped him as he struggled to coordinate his feet with what was showing up on the screen. He felt incredibly ungraceful, nearly tripping over his own two feet.

The turtles were laughing, though Mikey was generous enough to throw some shouts of encouragement into the mix.

It was all a bit overwhelming, but Tommy felt a rush of pride when he started getting more Greats and Goods instead of Misses. He even landed a couple of Perfects!

When the song was over and Tommy was on the verge of being out of breath, a bolded bronze D stamped itself on the side of the screen while game stats filled the other half.

A tired grin pulled on his face as he whirled around, "I think I aced that," Tommy claimed jokingly, leaning across the back bar.

A fresh round of laughter rose from Raph and Leo. Mikey swallowed whatever snack he'd been eating and gestured for Tommy to turn back around, "We'll make a dancer of you yet. Now go on, pick a username!" He encouraged.

Right! Tommy spun back to face the screen and stomped the middle of the dance pad.

A menu popped up, asking him to confirm which account was being used.

Ignoring the list of already made accounts, Magic Mike, and Neon Leon, to name a few- Tommy stomped again, selecting New Account.

A keyboard popped up on the screen. Tommy didn't have to think for long before he was stepping on the right arrow, "Biiig… Cu-" he faltered one stomp away from the C, casting his audience a brief glance, "Man." He ended up having just enough restraint to not write BigCums for his username.

Something that he got the sense wouldn't go over well with this particular crowd. For some reason.

Relatively satisfied with his username, Tommy stomped to confirm his choice before hopping off the dance pad, "I know my score may be intimidating to some, but please, be not afraid! I will only judge you harshly!" He assured them, stepping over to the snack table to grab some still warm nachos.

Damn, these things were good.

Raph took a step towards the DDR machine, "I think I'll-"

He was swiftly interrupted by Donnie pushing him aside, "Allow me to crush your pathetic score into the ground." Donatello approached the machine and selected the same song as Tommy did in a quarter of the time. 

Not only that, but he also got through the intro with no misses!

Tommy angrily stuffed his mouth with M&Ms, scowling at Donnie. He knew exactly what this prick was doing.

And you know what? Challenge accepted. Tommy was going to absolutely mop the floor with this chump, it was his goal now.

Donnie completed the song with a respectable A, setting his hands confidently on his hips, "And that, my friends, is how it's done."

And like hell Tommy was gonna let that shit slide- he immediately marched up to the machine, rolling up nonexistent sleeves in preparation.

His plan was intercepted by Leo, "Woah-ho, cool your jets. Let everyone else have a go first, m'kay?" Leo shooed Tommy back to the snack table.

Tommy sulked by the chip bowls on the opposite end of the table from Donnie.

While Tommy petulantly crunched away at a handful of chips, Raph picked out a song.

Tommy tried to let himself relax, tried not to focus too hard on Donnie's presence only a few blocks away.

It wasn't the most effective attempt by any means, but watching Raph dance with unexpected skill made things easier.

Music and encouragement filled the air, an infectious joy pulled Tommy to wiggle to the beat and offer up a few shouts of his own.

Unsurprisingly, all of them ended up being leagues better at this whole DDR thing then Tommy. Mikey especially, his feet moved faster than what Tommy thought should be possible.

But then it was Tommy's turn again. This time, he didn't waste his time scrolling, just stomped the middle until the first song was selected again.

An unprecedented level of focus took over Tommy's mind. He was going to be better at this song than Donnie. He had to. It was a matter of pride now.

Now that he knew what to expect, Tommy got through the intro with only one missed note. His movements still felt clunky and awkward in comparison to someone like Mikey, but he fell into the rhythm eventually.

Tommy put his all into getting a better score than Donnie.

Rank B.

Satisfaction formed a sharp grin on his face, "Uh oh, better watch out, Donnie. I'm coming for yo' score, bitch," Tommy taunted.

Donnie rolled his eyes, unthreatened, "Oh, woe is me, a B. I feel so- uh, worried? Scared? Yeah, no, there's no way you're beating me," he quickly gave up on listing off synonyms.

Tommy's grin dropped into an indignant scowl, "That's not true. I'm gonna beat you on my next go. Actually." He looked over to the rest of the turtles.

"Can I go again? I want to get S tier. Please, please, please, please." Tommy clasped his hands together and begged until please stopped sounding like a real word.

Donnie raised a brow, glancing at his brothers, "Come on, you're not really going to-"

Mikey caved, "One more attempt, and then we go back to taking turns."

Tommy beamed, "Thanks, Mike, you're my favourite!" He pressed replay before anyone else had the chance to voice their objections.

The movements were almost familiar this time around. Two times wasn't really enough for muscle memory to take place, but his regular memory was doing a good enough job on its own.

Tommy was quietly grateful for the sparring sessions with Leo, because he knew for a fact that he wasn't nearly in shape enough for this kind of thing just two weeks ago.

Of course, he literally just finished sparring with Leo half an hour ago, so his legs were kind of burning- but it was a good burn! The kind that meant he was getting stronger.

Tommy finished the song with a heaving chest and dry throat. He unthinkingly pulled his water bottle from earlier out of his inventory while the score popped up.

He took a swig and then nearly spat everything out when he saw the letter and subsequent number on the screen.

After several seconds of choking on water, Tommy finally swallowed and turned to Donnie, delighted, "I beat-" he coughed, clearing his lungs of excess water, "-I beat you by one point! One! Get fucked, idiot!" Tommy jeered, taking immense joy in the hints of irritation slipping through the cracks of Donnie's uncaring facade.

Tommy was tempting fate and he knew it.

Apparently Leo knew it too, because he quickly stepped between Tommy and Donnie, "Okay, okay, let's tone it down a bit. Why don't we all just-" but it was too late.

Donnie walked around Leo to walk up to Tommy, waving off his brother, "No, no, let him speak. I mean, he already has so little to brag about, I'm sure this is a big thing for him," his words oozed with thinly veiled condescension and annoyance, curated with the intent to hurt.

And they did, to a degree.

The clear implication that Tommy led a pathetic unimpressive little life. That a decent score on a dancing game was the only thing of note to his name.

As if Tommy didn't fight in a war against a tyrant, sacrifice his prized possessions for the sake of his friends and his country. Like all of the pain he went through at Dream's hand was nothing.

Tommy realized that Mikey, Raph, and Leo were all looking between Tommy and Donnie with frozen expressions. Each and every one of them looked to be one more pointed jab away from jumping in to salvage the sullied good vibes.

Tommy kept his expression carefully neutral, bordering on amused, and took a sip of his water before putting the bottle away again.

Because while the implication certainly poked and prodded at a tender spot in his chest, Donnie didn't actually know him. He wasn't capable of making the same harsh character judgments that someone like Dream- or even Wilbur on rare occasions during their shared exile- could make.

And also letting Donnie know that he'd successfully gotten under Tommy’s skin sounded like the worst thing ever, second only to death.

So Tommy put his best approximation of a shit-eating grin on his face, "Sounds like you're projecting a bit there, mate." He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the railing.

Donnie smiled tersely back in return, teeth grinding, "Yes, because I, a genius inventor, engineer, and hero on the side, have so few achievements of my own," he agreed with dry sarcasm and rolled eyes.

"Oh, fuck off. Stop talking like you know everything, like you're better than everyone else. It just makes you sound like a fucking prick." Tommy gripped the railing tight.

Donnie's lower eyelid twitched, "Don't need to be better than everyone else to know I'm better than you-"

And that was the last straw. Leo re-inserted himself between them, forcibly creating distance and blocking eye contact.

Raph cleared his throat and clapped his hands together loudly, "Alright, that's enough! Both of you stop antagonizing each other!"

Tommy froze, curling his toes and shrinking back at the raised voice.

Seeing that he had Tommy’s, and presumably Donnie's, attention, Raph continued. Though not before rubbing his forehead with a weary sigh that caused crippling shame to burn behind Tommy’s ribcage.

"Listen, I get it, okay? You guys butt heads and generally dislike each other- but could you just try to get along? Or at least ignore each other? Please?" Raph jerked his head in Mikey's direction.

And oh.

Mikey looked close to tears and just short of devastated.

A heaping pile of guilt mixed in with the shame. Tommy trained his gaze firmly on the ground, the idea of looking any of the turtle brothers in the face was a near suffocating one, "Sorry, I didn't mean to- I'm sorry," he mumbled, doing his best to speak loud enough to be heard over the DDR machine.

There were similarly apologetic words from Donnie, though it sounded more like an expression of general regret. At the very least, Tommy didn't hear the word sorry in whatever excessively complex combination of words he was using.

Tommy held his tongue though and retreated back to the snack table, slouching as if he could hide behind the chip bowls. He's already caused enough trouble for tonight.

Mischief and mayhem wasn't any fun if no one else was laughing.

Tommy made sure to hang around for the next few rounds of DDR, clapping at the ends of songs and tossing in a few halfhearted jokes now and then.

As soon as he felt like he wouldn't be a complete asshole for leaving, Tommy told the group he was turning in for the night with a somewhat exaggerated yawn.

They let him go with little fanfare, bidding him goodnight as he slunk out of the arcade with a habitual glance to his old hiding spot.

He was so glad he had an actual bed and blankets now. 

Tommy ran a hand through his hair, grimacing to himself at all the sweat.

Okay, maybe he could spare the time for a quick shower before bed.

---

After the disaster that was DDR night, Tommy came to a wordless sort of agreement with Donnie.

An agreement to avoid each other at all costs.

Donnie was already grabbing a snack from the kitchen? Tommy wasn't that hungry anyway, he could come back later.

Tommy was grinding away for a higher score on one of the arcade machines? Donnie would return to his lab.

If you asked a therapist, they'd probably say that it was incredibly unhealthy and that communication is important- but Tommy already knew that, and he didn't really care.

It worked fine for them and came with the bonus of not upsetting Mikey with their disagreements.

Several days went by with that system in place. Things were going great, not a single incident between Tommy and Donnie to speak of!

Tommy was snacking on a granola bar in the kitchen when he found out that Mikey had noticed their behaviour and didn't share the same mindset. 

Mikey was wearing a brown turtleneck and round glasses similar to the ones Wilbur would often wear. He'd planted himself in the kitchen doorway with crossed arms and an expression that wouldn't take no for an answer.

"It has come to my attention that you could benefit greatly from a conversation with Dr. Feelings," Mikey stated.

Tommy squinted suspiciously, "Is that another way of saying therapist?"

Mikey tilted his head with a thoughtful hum, "Kind of! If by 'therapist' you mean me finally getting tired of two people I care dearly about avoiding each other like the plague," he chirped.

Ugh, was this seriously about Donnie? "Mikey. Mike. Michael. I love you, but Donnie and I- I mean, listen, most people find me annoying at first, but that 'at first' didn't really go away with Donnie. And that's o-kay. Some people just don't click." Tommy hoped, perhaps naively, that that would be enough to get Mikey to drop the subject.

It wasn't, of course. Mikey was a little more stubborn than that. 

"How would you know that if neither of you have even bothered to give each other a chance? I know you two could be great friends if you would just communicate instead of antagonizing each other every opportunity you get," Mikey stressed wholeheartedly.

He looked like he truly believed what he was saying too.

Tommy wasn't so easily convinced. You can't just stop hating someone, no matter how shallow the reasoning might be.

When Tommy failed to say anything back, Mikey continued, "Just give it a try? For me? Here, I'll even help!" Mikey abandoned his post in the doorway and took to pulling veggies and kielbasa out of the fridge.

Tommy watched him futz around the kitchen with a slow crawl of horror dawning on him, "What? No! No, no, no, no, you don't have to- you aren't seriously going to make me bring a snack to that prick, are you? Michael, please, I will die of shame. He will laugh at me and then I will die. Do you really want me to die, Mike?" He demanded, half tempted to bodily shake Mikey until he realized just how bad of an idea this was. 

Chopping carrots into little sticks, Mikey rolled his eyes, "Doing one nice thing for Donnie isn't going to kill you, Tom."

The words of a liar.

"Yes it will. Mikey, I'm going to- to drop dead and it's going to be your fault. Do you really want that, Mikey? Do you? That's so fucked up of you," Tommy insisted, openly lamenting his fate.

Add knife skills to the ever growing list of things Mikey was way too good at, because he was already arranging a platter of cut veggies, kielbasa, and cheese. A sleeve of crackers was soon emptied out on the side before the whole platter was shoved into Tommy’s hands against his will.

Tommy shot Mikey a panicked look, legs locking in place, "Mikey, please. I'm serious, I can't- I- what the fuck do I even say?" Desperation snuck into his voice.

Mikey massaged his shoulders- not as relaxing as it might normally be given the sheer distress Tommy was presently experiencing.

"Take a deep breath, everything's going to be okay. Just go up there and be honest. Talk about your feelings in a nice, constructive way. You got this, Tom-Tom." And with that, Mikey gave him a little push, urging Tommy onwards.

Tommy stumbled stiffly through the lair, panic growing stronger with every step closer to Donnie's lab.

He didn't want to do this.

He held his breath and tried to smooth down his spiked nerves.

Plans. He just had to come up with a plan.

Step one…

Step one was to… to…

Tommy stopped a few blocks short of the entrance to Donnie's lab, frozen and waiting for any semblance of helpful thought to pass through his mind.

Miley just wanted them to have a conversation, right? Be 'honest about their feelings' for a few minutes, or whatever.

Blegh, as if.

While Tommy wasn't quite willing to engage in a heart to heart with the likes of Donatello, he might be able to reign in the hostility long enough to pretend.

Engage in some small talk for a few minutes until he could run off and never talk to the prick again.

Tommy sighed heavily to himself, "This is going to go terribly," he muttered under his breath before finally walking past the threshold.

He knocked his foot against the wall and then proceeded to enter the lab without waiting for permission, "Oh, Donatello! I come bearing gifts!" Tommy sang.

His intrusion was met with the clang of metal falling and the sound of wheels rolling.

Donnie spun around in his swivel chair, something that looked like a metal pen in his hand. He looked even nerdier than usual with his goggles pulled down over his eyes.

"Uhhh, what are you doing in my lab?" Donnie questioned, accusatory and suspicious.

Tommy grinned exaggeratedly, "Whaaat? I can't just stop by to bring some snacks to my best friend?" He held out the platter of artfully arranged snacks.

"Mikey set you up to this," Donnie deadpanned.

"Yep." Tommy set the platter down on the nearest section of Donnie's workbench that wasn't totally cluttered and hopped up to sit beside it.

He kicked his legs idly and tilted his head at the mess of metal and exposed wires on the table, "So… What are you working on?" It looked like it might have been a drone?

Three detached thick purple disks were piled up on the side. A short glance to the floor revealed a third one on the floor.

Donnie grabbed the fallen disk and tossed it back to sit with the others, "Oh, please don't bother with this. You and I both know that whatever Mikey's plan to force us get along is won't work. Might as well save your breath and spare my ears," he advised, a clear and easy dismissal.

But also a dismissal on Donnie's terms. And Tommy was- well, he happened to be a touch petty, so of course he ignored it.

Tommy popped a cucumber slice into his mouth, "What do you mean? Of course it'll work, I feel closer already. Don't you?" He crooned like the absolute fucking liar that he was.

He didn't know what kind of expression Donnie was making, but he assumed it was something appropriately annoyed.

Tommy tapped his toes together and leaned closer to Donnie's project, sinking his weight into his palms. He said nothing, but stared intently at the unfinished drone.

It was kind of weird, he couldn't see redstone dust anywhere. How was this thing even meant to work?

He got the sense that Donnie was watching him behind those goggles of his.

"I'm beginning to believe you don't understand what I'm trying to say," Donnie said flatly.

He set the metal pen thing on the desk and turned to face Tommy head on, "Allow me to put it into simpler terms for you. Please leave my workshop and never come back. I cannot get back to what I was doing until you leave because Mikey would cry if I damaged your eyesight. Goodbye." Donnie turned sharply back to his project and picked up the metal pen again.

Once again, Tommy ignored the dismissal, "How would you damage my eyesight? What, you gonna stab me with that pen, or something?" Probably shouldn't have given him the idea.

Donnie let out a singular note of laughter, "Tempting as that may be, no. And it's not a pen, it's a soldering iron. It'll burn your retinas if I use it. Why do you think I'm wearing these?" He tapped the goggles on his face with the hand not holding the soldering iron.

"Oh…" Tommy scanned the nearby area in search of anything he could use for his own eyes.

He wasn't about to be bested by a bit of light.

His eyes eventually landed on a pair of significantly less dorky looking goggles laying innocuously amongst some incomplete projects on the other side of the lab.

Tommy took a carrot stick and hopped off the desk, trotting over to the table.

There was a discontented noise from Donnie, "What are you doing? No, stop, no-" hurried movement and the sound of the swivel chair rolling off suddenly.

But Tommy was already pulling the tinted goggles over his eyes.

A metal claw grabbed the back of Tommy's shirt and dragged him away while he was distracted by the dark filter he'd placed over his vision.

Tommy blinked rapidly, adjusting to the new light level, "Woah… Is this what it's like to be a mole? Or a bat?" He held his hands up in front of himself, rendered momentarily defenseless by his own wonder and curiosity.

He wondered if he could echolocate…?

Alas, Donnie was not so content to give Tommy this small joy as he immediately took advantage of the distraction to drag him out of the lab.

And then he went too far by trying to take Tommy's new goggles.

Tommy bit Donnie's hand without thinking when he reached out for them.

Donnie yanked his hand back with a full body recoil, "Oh, that's so gross. Are you up to date on all your shots? If you gave me rabies, I'll kill you." He shook the hand that Tommy honestly didn't even bite that hard, so what was he complaining about- with a disgusted downturn to his mouth.

"I don't have rabies, dickhead," Tommy scoffed, dodging around Donnie and back into the lab.

He hopped onto the swivel chair before Donnie could stop him and pulled his knees close to his chin.

Natural momentum spun the chair in a lazy rotation while Tommy got comfortable with his gremlin posture, grinning into his knees.

Donnie grabbed the chair by the armrests a second later of course, successfully boxing Tommy in, "Why, pray tell, do you insist on harassing me so?" He asked in his usual dry tone.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. You are delusional," Tommy readily denied the accusations before promptly throwing himself and the chair backwards.

Donnie let him fall with an unimpressed expression that transcended his goofy goggles.

Tommy crawled over to the side of the desk with the platter, making critter-esque noises all the while.

As luck would have it, Donnie appeared to be catching on that Tommy wouldn't be leaving anytime soon and only watched as he scurried across the floor.

Tommy pulled himself up onto the desk and settled perched in a crouch that was no doubt awful for his back.

Donnie stared at him for a solid ten seconds before eventually picking up his chair, "If you're not going to leave, then you have to at the very least be quiet. That means no talking," he emphasized, like he thought Tommy wouldn't understand if he didn't stress the individual words.

Tommy mimed zipping his lips, locking them, and then throwing away the key. Wearing an obedient smile that totally didn't betray just how quickly he was planning on disregarding that rule. 

If Donnie saw through his ruse, he chose not to comment on it.

He did, though, grab a cracker with kielbasa from the platter on the way to sitting down in his chair.

Tommy let his chin rest on his raised knees and nibbled on his pointer finger, watching quietly for the time being.

With only a few more seconds of hesitation, Donnie leaned over the probable drone and brought the soldering iron to the innards.

Sparks flew and boy was it ever bright. Tommy found himself squinting even with the tinted goggles on.

Tommy was transfixed by the flying sparks and bright glow for much longer than he'd initially intended. It was just so cool…

He blinked firmly, reminding himself of the goal at hand.

He shuffled as closely as he dared, "What are you working on?" Tommy repeated his earlier question, voice muffled by the finger he was gnawing on.

Annoyance prickled at Tommy when Donnie didn't respond.

Just barely suppressing the urge to whack Donnie in the shoulder, Tommy stopped chewing on his finger to repeat the question louder, "This is boring. Tell me what you're working on or I'll scream."

Donnie paused in his soldering, "The door's right over there if you're really that bored. Go bother Leo, I'm sure he'd love to waste an hour or two humouring you. As he does so often these days," the last bit was muttered in an almost bitter fashion.

Tommy chose not to read too deep into it. He wrinkled his nose at Donnie, "Stop trying to get rid of me- and avoiding the question. Why won't you tell me what it is? If you don't tell me, I'm going to assume it's for something fucked up. Like tax evasion," he said the first crime that popped up in his mind.

Another beat passed where Donnie didn't say a word until finally, "I'm repairing someone… Very important to me, and I would appreciate it if you would let me work in peace," he ground out.

Someone? Like a robot? Like Sam Nook?

Tommy inspected the drone with new interest.

If he tilted his head enough, Tommy could see what looked like the head of the drone, big eyes dull and lifeless.

And then Donnie went back in with the soldering iron, blocking his sight and filling the air with sparks.

Tommy inched back again at that, grabbing a few more cucumber slices to pop into his mouth.

He lasted all of twenty seconds before succumbing to boredom once again.

His eyes roamed the room in search of something interesting to do or mess with.

Donnie probably had some laser guns around here somewhere. That'd be pretty funny to swing around with no restraint.

Now that Tommy was actually taking the time to look around, he noticed a collection of photos taped to the wall. They were a little too far off for him to pinpoint exact details- the tinted goggles didn't do him any favours either- but it wasn't hard to recognise the green skin and colour coordinated bandanas.

With one last little glance towards Donnie, Tommy hopped off the desk and trotted over to the collection of photos.

Some were candids, others were posed for, all of them were posted with equal care across the wall.

Not all of them were of the turtles either. Tommy reached up to brush his thumb against one of the more recent looking photos.

It had all of the brothers in poses of varying goofiness around their father, April, and a human guy Tommy didn't recognize.

It looked like a family photo. Like Tommy's own picture with the old L'Manberg crew, faces all alight with laughter and Wilbur’s arm slung over Tommy's shoulders with a permanent look of pride.

Momentarily forgetting where he was, Tommy pulled the photo from his inventory.

Bittersweet fondness and bone deep longing made a painful cocktail in his heart. 

He didn't keep the photo out for very long. But even a few seconds was enough for his vision to blur and an unwelcome lump to form in his throat.

Tommy cleared his throat as quiet as humanly possible, rubbing his dampened eyes and putting the photo away in the same movement.

Donnie's had a good minute of silence to himself now. Too good for too long if you asked Tommy.

Tommy turned his attention deeper into the lab in search of something non-lethal and obnoxious.

Shouldn't be too hard to find something like that, right?

Stroking his chin theatrically for no reason other than because he wanted to, Tommy considered his options.

Hmm… A weird tooth pick, something with way too many saw blades attached to it, and a metal bust of Donatello himself.

A slow grin crept up on Tommy's expression at that last object.

Now that looked like something Donnie wouldn't want him getting his grimy little fingers all over.

Mind made up, Tommy marched straight up to the Donnie bust.

He wrapped his fingers around the base and lifted-

Tommy stumbled back and landed on his butt with a startled squawk and subsequent gasp when the metal Donnie jabbed him right in the stomach, "Oh, what the fuck!?" He wheezed- because this thing was so much lighter than he was expecting it to be.

Complete silence followed his mistake, Donnie had stopped what he'd been doing. He hadn't turned around yet, but Tommy could see the tightening grip on the armrests of his chair even with the goggles.

Tommy recovered from his shock a moment later, standing up and hauling the metal bust with him, "Ignore what just happened. Why d'you have a statue of yourself? That's so up your own ass, oh my god." He returned to his perch on the desk, sitting cross legged with the metal bust in his lap.

Smudges and fingerprints already covered the shiny surface as a result of his handling.

Donnie audibly inhaled, a tense hiss through clenched teeth, "Oh, yes, just touch all of my things without permission. No, yeah, that's great," he muttered sarcastically on the exhale.

And so of course Tommy decided to take the words literally, nodding in agreement, "Glad you understand- hey, what's this thing made of anyway? He tossed the metal bust up in the air and caught it a few times, testing its weight.

"I was being- oh, whatever, just put that down before something breaks. Can't you sit still for more than five seconds?" Donnie tipped his forehead into his open palm, looking and sounding physically pained.

Tommy paused, thumbs pressed against the obnoxiously smug eyes of Metal Donnie. He stared real Donnie in the eyes for the count of four seconds before answering, "No." Before proceeding to toss the statue up again.

Without any warning (aside from the twitching fingers and blatant agitation), Donnie lunged for the metal bust of himself.

Tommy hugged the statue to his chest and scrambled back with a shriek, kicking his legs out in his panic.

Given that he'd been sitting beside a tray of food, his action unfortunately resulted in sending the aforementioned tray sliding into the nearby drone.

Hard.

And then came the second unforeseen consequence to his flailing. That, of course, being that the unfinished drone was sent crashing to the floor.

The sound rang in Tommy’s ears as they both stared, frozen.

Tommy had just enough time to drop a classic TommyInnit, "Uh-oh..." Before Donnie stood up abruptly and turned on him.

Now, Tommy's pissed off a lot- and he means a lot- of people in his time. But oh man did Donnie ever look mad.

Donnie's shoulders were drawn taut, his fingers flexed repetitively between open and closed.

Tommy kept his attention flicking between the teen's face and his arms, watching out for any sign that a punch was about to be thrown his way.

"Is there a reason you’re still here?” Donnie asked, not quite the response Tommy was expecting.

Somehow, the lack of yelling and threats of bodily harm weren't all that comforting.

Tommy cleared his throat and shuffled a little further away, “Uh… Because Mikey asked me to?” His voice came out small and unsure despite his efforts.

Donnie lifted his goggles and rolled his eyes, “Obviously, but I meant in a slightly more broad sense. As in why are you still here, living in our home- and don’t you dare say tenants rights,” he rushed to get that last bit out right as Tommy was opening his mouth- fully intending on claiming tenants rights…

Tommy pressed his mouth into a thin line. It would appear that he’s been outplayed, as the people say nowadays.

It took him a moment to scrounge up an answer. Because honestly, what did this guy want him to say?

“Fuckin- where else would I go, dipshit? Not from this world, remember? And besides, everyone else likes me just fine, you’re the one who’s a dick,” Tommy finally refuted.

The response from Donnie was immediate, “Scoff. Sure, if that’s what we’re calling pity and the inability to say no to whatever pathetic half-dead idiot shows up on your doorstep,” he, well, scoffed.

Hearing the word pity made Tommy jump a bit. Just the idea that all of the things they’ve done for him- especially Mikey and Leo- were done out of pity made his skin crawl.

“No… No, that’s not- fuck off, it wasn’t pity!” It- it kind of checked out though, didn’t it?

They did kind of come across him when he was delirious with sickness and coughing his guts up. Not that he could really remember much from that day, but the bits and pieces he did remember were, as Donnie put it, pathetic.

Backed into a corner, terrified for his life, but unable to provide a solid reason for them to keep him alive.

Donnie fixed him with the same cool stare that was normally reserved for Tommy, brows quirking minutely upwards, “Mm, yeah, sure, definitely not. They let you, a complete stranger living uninvited in the lair, stay here while providing absolutely nothing of value for totally real reasons other than feeling bad for you- he said sarcastically.”

Tommy could feel his breath quickening, hands shaking where they were clenched around the base of the metal bust. He shook his head in short, jerking movements, “Shut up,” he whispered, finding himself believing Donnie’s words more the longer they sat with him.

Donnie raised his hands in mock surrender (Tommy pretended the sudden movement didn’t make him flinch), “What? Just stating the obvious here.”

Now that the idea had been implanted in his mind, Tommy couldn’t help but look back on all of his past interactions with the turtles under a new lens. One that wasn’t rose tinted by senseless optimism.

Why the fuck did they let him stay here? The tenants rights thing was bullshit and they all knew it. This wasn’t like with Techno, these people didn’t know him. They never had any kind of reason to open their home to him, but they did it anyway.

It was too good to be true, which meant Donnie was right.

Tommy stared unseeing down at his own unsteady hands as previously comforting memories took on a bitter tinge, “Oh…” Numbly, he pulled off his stolen goggles and set them to the side along with the metal bust.

He swallowed, sliding himself off the desk and landing stiffly on his feet. It felt oddly jarring, “Okay then. Guess I will leave now, take a walk ‘n shit… I’m sorry for knocking over your friend,” he spoke with a slight rasp, unwanted emotions tightening his throat.

And then he turned and left without another word.

His eyes remained unfocused as he walked through the lair that he’d come to see as a home. The graffiti covered walls didn’t seem as welcoming as they’d once felt.

Pity. The only thing this kindness had ever been was pity.

Tommy walked past the hallway to his room, he had a different destination in mind.

A drama was playing on the screen when he got to the living room. Tommy held his breath and prepared to lie his ass off if Splinter noticed him walking by.

By nothing short of a miracle, the rat man was soundly asleep on his recliner, crumbs scattered around his robe and a plate balancing precariously on his stomach.

Tommy didn’t stick around to contemplate his relationship with the old man, they’d barely had more than one or two conversations in all his time staying at the lair.

Tommy moved on to the entire reason he’d come to the living room in the first place. A ladder embedded into the wall that stretched all the way up to the surface.

A quick and easy way out of the lair.

He gripped the first rung tightly, taking in a shaky breath while he steeled his resolve, and then started climbing.

A small collection of multi-coloured string lights hung up around the tunnel upwards served as Tommy’s only light source on the trip up.

Bright daylight burned his eyes when he reached the top of the ladder and moved the manhole cover.

Tommy let out a quiet hiss as he pulled himself up and onto the pavement, squinting until his eyes got used to the new light level.

He quickly pushed the manhole cover back into place and hurried over to the sidewalk.

None of the city around him was familiar, but he supposed that was to be expected when he’d been spending the vast majority of his time dozens of blocks beneath the surface.

Tommy chose a direction and got moving, picking his way through a much too crowded sidewalk with no real destination in mind.

In his admittedly still rather dazed state, Tommy found himself accidentally brushing shoulders and bumping into a few more people than he was comfortable with. Every unexpected instance of contact made him recoil with a stuttered inhale.

It didn't come as much of a surprise when he started to feel overwhelmed by the whole thing. His heart beating loudly and breathing turning increasingly more ragged.

The fifth time his heart constricted painfully in his chest following an accidental shoulder brush, Tommy came to the conclusion that he needed to get out of the open.

With that in mind, Tommy ducked into the next alleyway he came across.

It was still incredibly noisy, but he could breathe a little easier now that he was away from prying eyes.

Tommy walked until he reached the end of the alley where an open dumpster was pushed up against the side of the building.

He sat down on the other side, using the bin to hide himself from anyone walking past the alleyway.

Tommy defaulted to a familiar position, knees pulled up and arms wrapped tightly around his legs.

His mind was uncharacteristically quiet as he gazed blankly at the ground. It was like there was a blanket of fog over his thoughts, keeping them hazy and nonspecific.

He was going to have to get up at some point. Needed to find a new place to stay before sunset.

Preferably one close enough to the turtles' lair that he could still pop in with an invisibility potion to nab a few things.

But that time was not now.

Because right now? Right now Tommy just wanted to stay where no one could bear witness to his oncoming mental breakdown.

The sound of something shuffling came from the rubbish bin.

Tommy's heart leapt into his throat at the noise. He scrambled back with eyes blown wide and the sword that he'd quickly drawn from his inventory.

"Who- who the fuck's in there? Get out and face me, dickhead." He put on a brave face, having stood up and put two blocks of space between him and the bin.

He heard scrabbling from the inside of the bin, nails scraping against metal.

One last sound of garbage bags being pushed around and then a dark grey ball of fur came tumbling over the lip of the bin.

Tommy blinked, sword lowering, “Oh… Well, I feel a bit silly now,” he mumbled, staring into the eyes of a raccoon.

The raccoon chittered back at him, flicking its ears and crouching warily.

Tommy returned the sword to his inventory and sunk down against the wall again. He curled up tight and laid his chin upon his crossed arms, deflating with a sigh.

He watched the raccoon scurry away at the movement, but not leave. It stopped at whatever it considered to be a safe distance away before settling back into its crouch and staring with ears angled attentively forward.

Tommy blinked slowly at the raccoon, “Is it just you here?” He asked despite the animal’s inability to answer or comprehend.

It didn’t make a sound, just continued to stare unblinkingly back.

Tommy continued talking as if the raccoon had answered him anyway, “I don’t have anyone either. I thought I did, but-” he blinked hard, banishing tears before they could gather, “-they only ever pitied me. I was just too… I dunno, too dumb I guess. Didn’t notice it until someone else pointed it out.” He cast his eyes downward as he spoke and found them glazing over with the same blurry inability to focus as before.

No idea why he was venting to an animal again- that was a lie. Animals were so much better than people in most cases. They were very straightforward and predictable in their desires for food and affection.

Animals weren’t judgmental dickheads- except for cats, fuck those guys. Cats could fuck off and die for all he cared, bitey little pricks.

His vision snapped back with clarity when something tickled his arm.

Tommy flinched away from the unexpected sensation, causing the raccoon that had crept up on him to take a quick step back in return.

Rounded ears flicked out to either side as it let out a round of startled squeaks and chitters, bobbing its head up and down a few times like it didn’t quite know what to make of the human angsting in its alleyway.

After a few seconds without movement on Tommy’s part, the raccoon seemed to regain confidence. It strode forwards and sat back on its haunches to place delicate little paws on Tommy’s arm.

The raccoon stretched its neck out to sniff Tommy’s cheek.

An action that had Tommy sitting stock still with bated breath as a cold nose poked at his skin.

Tommy must have passed whatever test it was conducting, because the raccoon then pulled away only to squeeze under his arm and start making itself comfortable in the space it forcibly created between his torso and thighs.

Despite all odds, a quiet giggle spilled from Tommy’s lips. He adjusted his position to accommodate his new friend, cautiously bringing a hand down to rub the back of the raccoon’s neck.

Petting the raccoon was an odd experience, the fur was generally rather coarse until his fingers reached deep enough to find a layer of dense, softer fur, hidden beneath the surface.

Tommy felt more than he heard the quiet rumbling of a purr starting up. The sound reverberated through his chest, easing away tension and anxiety in just a few minutes.

He sent a small smile down to the animal bundled up in his arms, warm gratitude spreading through him, “You’re a good’n, you are... Thank you,” Tommy murmured, voice holding more genuine rawness than he would ever be comfortable showing to another person.

The raccoon purred louder, turning Tommy’s smile into a full blown grin.

And then something pricked his arm and everything went wrong.

Pain spread through the entirety of Tommy’s being like a hungry wildfire, burning in pulses and knocking him to the ground writhing. A guttural scream filled the air, and it hardly registered that he was the one making the horrid noise.

He was back in limbo, being torn to shreds as Dream dragged him back into the world of the living with no regard for the hurt he was inflicting.

Tommy’s hands gripped his head. It felt strange under his palms, too warm, too textured, too everything.

It was too much. Too much- too much- too much-

And then the pain subsided, but Tommy still couldn’t breathe. Was still trembling and gasping and choking on fear.

What the fuck just happened? What was wrong with him?

To make matters even worse, his raccoon friend was gone. Tommy was all alone.

That was the realization that nearly broke Tommy, the thing that almost tore a sob from his throat.

Tommy blinked away his tears and painstakingly pushed himself to sit upright again.

He threw himself back with a startled yelp when he saw the state of his arms. Blond fur covered every square inch of his skin, his hands were darker, with sharp nails to match.

Something moved in the edge of his vision, and when he snapped his head over to look, he found a bushy striped tail.

“What the fuck,” Tommy whispered as he took note of the new limb that moved at his command.

His hands shot back up to his face, feeling soft fur over a protruding snout and angular ears that instinctively twitched when he poked them.

Tommy let his arms fall into his lap and stared in horror, “Oh no… I’ve become a furry,” he realized.

He also noticed that his feet were incredibly cramped in his shoes. Thankfully an easy fix, even if it did hurt his brain a bit to see dark paws with toes that looked a little more similar in length to fingers than he would like.

Now that he wasn’t in pain anymore, the confusion was enough to stave off his earlier panic. Did he seriously turn into a fucking raccoon? He called himself that as a joke! He didn’t actually want to become one!

Oh fuck, Techno would bully him so hard if he knew about this.

Tommy ran a hand through his- well, he didn't really have normal hair anymore, did he? Regardless, he ran his hand over the top of his furry head.

His ears flicked back as a trickle of discomfort passed through him. He was totally going to have to waste a bunch of his invisibility potions to find somewhere to stay without being spotted by the dickheads of New York.

Tommy stood up, throwing his arms up and wobbling as he tried to get used to his altered center of gravity thanks to the stupid tail he had.

“This is so stupid.” He turned to face the alley’s one and only exit, about to pull a precious potion from his inventory.

An embarrassingly high pitched scream escaped him when he came face to face with a woman who definitely was not there before.

Tommy scrambled to place distance between him and the unexpected woman.

She had silky looking silver hair with bangs swooped over one eye, her outfit contained even more purple than Donatello. The woman was incredibly short, but something about the way she was looking at Tommy made his heart pick up with fear.

A red lipstick accented smile was a permanent fixture on the woman’s face, “Well, hello there, Fluffyboo. You’ve got quite the conundrum going on, don’t you?” She greeted with a dainty wave of her fingers.

Tommy raised his shoulders defensively, feeling his fur puff up in sync with the movement, “Do not call me ‘Fluffyboo’ ever again. It is cringe and strange.” He didn’t draw his sword quite yet, but it was a near thing.

The woman hid her mouth behind her hand as she giggled, “Well, what else would you have me call you then, hm?” She asked, and Tommy couldn’t help but feel she sounded like Dream.

Not in voice, mind you. But they shared the same self assured confidence that things would play out in their favour. That no matter what Tommy tried, they would always find a way to twist things around again.

Resistance was futile, but they thought the attempt was amusing, so they let it play out just long enough for false hope to take root before crushing him into the ground again.

Tommy just hoped his prior experience with manipulative pricks would be enough to get him out of this conversation in one piece. Probably not knowing his luck, but one could hope.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” He demanded instead of answering her question.

The woman tsked, “That’s not very polite of you, but I suppose I can give you an answer if you must know.” She gestured widely out to the exit of the alleyway.

“You weren’t the most quiet during your… Transformation. Word travels fast around these parts, you know. I wanted to offer a proposition for you.” The woman folded her hands in front of herself.

Tommy didn’t trust that shit for a goddamn second. He scowled at her, tail flicking, “No thanks, lady. Think I’d rather take my chances with the muggers,” he declined.

Concern pinched the woman’s expression, but Tommy knew better than to think it was anything but a farce.

The woman pouted, “Oh, what a fickle one you are. Won’t even hear me out, will you? And to think I had such a splendiferous deal laid out for you too.” She cupped one hand to her cheek while the other moved to sit on her hip.

Dread curled in Tommy’s gut at her tone, “Yeah? Well I’m not fuckin’ interested,” he spat, pulling the sword from his inventory and falling into a familiar stance.

Terrifyingly, the woman’s face lit up with interest at his show of defiance, smile growing, “That’s quite alright, Fluffykins. This is proving to be a much more promising deal than I’d originally expected.” And then she snapped her fingers and a dozen identical men with sharp teeth and pointed horns wielding spears popped into existence throughout the alley.

Tommy tried not to let his fear show, clinging to every scrap of confidence he could find, “Mate, actually just piss off. Normally I would be, y’know, flattered by a woman inviting me to her place- as they do so often, literally all the time- but I’m kind of already in a committed relationship to the grind, so, hm! No thank you! No me gusta!” He rambled, speaking loudly to mask the anxiety.

The woman covered her mouth to laugh again, “Oh, no, no, no, no. That’s not it at all, my delightful little tim tam. No, you’ll be going somewhere much better- oh, but why don’t I introduce myself properly first.” She placed a hand on her chest and then bright ribbons of purple light created a towering vortex around her.

When the light dissipated, a towering spider with four legs, four arms, and a wild mane of hair took the place of the petite woman. The only similarity Tommy could find between the previously human looking woman and the spider lady in front of him was a purple cravat with a gold rimmed brooch.

Tommy flinched so hard his back slammed against the wall, “What the fuck?!” He screeched, because whatever he’d been expecting, this was so not it.

The giant spider lady made a face at his outburst, “Yes, I do tend to have that effect on people like you. My name is Big Mama, and I’m the owner of a wonderful thing known as the Battle Nexus, of which you will get to be one of the lucky few to participate in. Oh, how exciting!” Big Mama’s legs clicked against the pavement as she walked slowly forward whilst talking, until finally reaching out to tap a claw lightly against Tommy’s chest.

Tommy’s breath caught in his throat. Battle Nexus? “No… No, no, no, no, I- I can’t- fuck off! I’m not- I’m not going into some fighting ring or whatever the fuck you have going on. No way,” his voice started off frantic and uneven, but eventually firmed up into something determined.

Big Mama took a step back with an unconvinced hum, “Mm, I’m afraid you don’t get a choice in this one, Fluffyboo. See, it causes quite the fizzy fuss with the general public when a mutant shows up- gives us yokai a bad name and a lot of trouble. So I like to skip over all that unfortunate tizzle tazzle by plucking you poor things off the streets before you have the chance to show up all over the news. This gives me more participants for the Battle Nexus while also tidying the city a little bit. Win-win for everybody really,” she explained in hissing drawls.

Tommy was pretty sure his expression was one of horror, “What the fuck?! That is not a win-win situation! That- how can you not see anything wrong with that? It is literally kidnapping. You just admitted to kidnapping people and forcing them to fight in a pit against their will! Fuck’s wrong with you?” He snarled and tightened his grip on his sword.

Fuck being outnumbered, he refused to go down without a fight.

With that thought, Tommy lunged to swing his sword at Big Mama.

He felt his blade make satisfying contact with flesh at the same time that one of Big Mama’s bulky arms caught his own side in a mean right hook.

Tommy was sent flying against the alley wall from the force of the blow, crying out in pain and dropping his sword in the impact.

He laid unmoving aside from his uneven gasps with his arms pressing gingerly against the broad pain blossoming in his side.

Tommy watched Big Mama with growing despair as the giant spider picked the bloodied sword up from the ground.

She turned the weapon over in her massive claws, all six eyes narrowing in disdain, “You really shouldn’t have done- oh!”

A crow dive bombed Big Mama with a furious set of caws, clawing and batting its wings at her.

The distraction was short lived as Big Mama whacked the angry crow away.

Crack-!

Tommy could feel his heart cease to beat in his chest, “Chat,” he whimpered, tears clouding his vision so much he almost couldn’t make out the unmoving lump on the other side of the alleyway.

His eyes never left the fallen crow- he couldn’t look away, not even when Big Mama resumed speaking.

“That foul sack of feathers tore up my favourite cravat. What a nuisance,” Big Mama complained.

Was the crow still breathing? Tommy couldn’t- fuck, he couldn’t tell with all this stupid moisture in his eyes!

There was a loud sigh from Big Mama, “Oh well, nothing to be done about it now-” snap, “-Someone be a dear and restrain our newest competitor. I’d like to get this show on the road, please,” she ordered her henchmen around.

Hands wrapped firmly around Tommy’s biceps and tugged him to his feet harshly enough to elicit a pained gasp from the way it jostled his hurting torso.

His breathing quickened, “Let go of me!” Tommy shouted, flailing against the henchman restraining him.

He snapped his teeth and kicked his legs, using everything at his disposal to fight back.

It was of no use. When Tommy managed to push one of them away, two more arrived to wrench his arms behind his back and press the sharp tip of a spear to his throat.

Tommy went stiff at the feeling of cold metal applying just enough pressure to create a faintly stinging line across his neck.

A golden portal swirled to life in front of Big Mama, casting a harsh glow over everyone in the alleyway.

He couldn’t help but think that maybe a little bit of pity wasn’t so bad if this was the alternative.

Whatever the case, he found himself hoping that Raph was telling the truth when he told Tommy that he’d have his back. Maybe, somehow, someway, one of them might care enough to save him from whatever fresh hell awaited him on the other side of this portal.

Tommy shut his eyes as he was marched over to the portal. He, childishly, didn’t want to look. The longer he could pretend that none of this was happening, the better.

Big Mama’s voice made it kind of difficult to keep up that fragile fantasy, “After you, Fluffyboo,” She purred.

And then, with one last shove, Tommy was surrounded by magic.