A/N: As promised here's another chapter...the one many of you have been waiting for! ;) Enjoy!

Chapter 14

I massage my temple as I lean my shell against my closed lab door. Thankfully, I was able to slip out of the dojo unnoticed by Sensei and Raph. My body trembles with anger, frustration, and pain. I just need a few moments to clear my thoughts…

Donatello! Your form is horrible! These are basic defense techniques you of all people should know how to do!

Leo's continuous commentary about my incompetency echo through my mind from morning practice.

Hey Don, the circus called and the clowns want their feet back!

I breathe deeply through my nose as Raph's voice joins Leo's in my head making it extremely difficult to focus on anything else but their belittling and hurtful words.

Donatello, you have deeply disappointed me.

As my father's voice intertwines with my two older brothers', it's enough to make my chest ache as the intake of air gets caught in my throat.

Weak and pathetic…. they can all see it, smell it…. it reeks from you like rotting flesh.

I need to calm down.

You can't control it, can you? ...The pain. The rage. The hunger…..

Focus, I just need to focus. This time it's not so easy to bury these feelings… the action is almost painful as my chest burns with emotional indigestion. The only thing that takes my mind off this assault of sentiments is the sudden sharp pain running down my spine.

I think about parabolas, the quadratic equation, anything to take my mind off the pain in my back. It's been a constant throb since last night…. I grind my shell against the door hoping enough pressure will massage out the onslaught of spasms coursing through my vertebrae. Eventually, the pain tapers off only for my stomach to start doing somersaults.

"Not again…" I've been feeling sick all morning. As much as I hate throwing up, I just wish I would vomit already. Anything is better than this impending feeling of being sick without actually being sick. I wince and clasp my hand over my stomach when it growls with pangs of hunger. I don't understand how it's possible to be starving and nauseous at the same time. As the hunger pains outride the nausea, I slip into the kitchen and grab a container of leftover ramen from the refrigerator. I don't even bother to heat it up as I take it back to my lab, closing the door behind me.

Feeling a little light-headed, I ease into my swivel chair. Forking a spindle of noodles into my mouth, I face my computer with a sigh. I spent most of last night completing a time-sensitive step in the retromutagen process; however, I still managed to partially analyze my blood samples. With a few taps on my keyboard, the results of my blood test appear on the screen.

My brows raise with disbelief. My Basal Metabolic Rate should not be that high. If these results are accurate, then I'm practically burning as many calories sitting still as I am after a morning of training. No wonder I'm always starving. I finish off the last strands of ramen noodles and notice my dizziness has eased off considerably. My testosterone levels are pretty high, too, which may attribute to these sudden bouts of…. irritability. A wave of guilt washes over me as the events of last night force its way to the forefront of my mind. I almost killed that kid.

Geez, and Mikey….

I sigh as I rub my hand down my face. I was absolutely horrible to him. He's my only brother who hasn't completely turned on me and I tried to throttle him last night. I really hope he doesn't say anything to Sensei, I can't take another Hashi session right now. Guilt is quickly replaced with lividness at the thought of my father.

He despises you.

He hates me. A stinging warmth radiates from the spot as I rub the side of my face where he struck me. It's the only logical reason I can think of for why he treats me with such scorn. I'm not as good as my brothers and never will be. My skills are not effortless like Leo's, aggressive like Raph's, or as creative as Mikey's. I build machines from human junk, solve equations in my head quicker than most college professors, yet it's still not good enough

I'm not good enough.

My father is finally tired of my incompetence. He can barely stand the sight of me without averting his eyes. It hurts more than I care to admit. He doesn't even lead our training sessions anymore, just orders Leo to do it.

Instead of giving way to my wounded emotions, I allow anger to pressure my mind like a vice. Why does he look down on my logical way of thinking? Why does he always pry and poke at my feelings? He just wants to prove how weak I am. I grind my teeth so hard, they scratch together like nails on a chalkboard.

Are you just going to take that abuse? Make him pay… make them all pay.

I gasp as the familiar thought whispers its way into my mind. Squeezing my eyes shut I briskly shake my head. No. Even if they think I'm worthless, I won't let thoughts like that control me again… not like last night. I narrow my eyes with conviction. I need to perform a more thorough analysis of my blood samples. There are a number of medical conditions and disorders that could cause these symptoms. I swallow nervously as the names of various illnesses and diseases spin around in my brain like a centrifuge.

What's the matter? Afraid of what you'll find lurking in the blood of your veins?...

Determined to prove my inner thoughts wrong, I take purposeful steps toward the lab table of blood-filled test tubes and begin preparing a sample to examine. The quicker I know what's wrong, the quicker I can fix it.

I frown as I look under the microscope. I just need to adjust the focus a bit and….

"Ack!" I jump slightly from the unexpected jingle of my T-phone. Steadying the microscope, I manage to catch the small tubes of blood before they shatter to the floor. I fumble in my belt pocket to retrieve the offending device. My heart stops when I see the name on the screen of my phone.

"April?" I answer the phone with a slight squeak, not exactly ready to have a conversation with her just yet. I mean, last night was great, fantastic, and every other wonderful adjective I can think of to describe it but I can't…I can't deal with that right now.

"Hey Donnie. Just checking in to make sure you survived punishment this morning."

"How did you know I had Hashi?" I demand in shock. I didn't want her to know about that… how could she have known about that?!...

"…Um, you texted me last night remember?... You know, two hours extra training and cleaning Raph's room. You didn't mention anything about the Hashi, though. What happened?"

I sigh softly at my clumsy slip up. "…Uh..well…..remember when I told you Sensei and I weren't seeing eye to eye on things?..." I trail off not wanting to go into detail about the exchange of words that led to the Hashi.

"Oh, Donnie, are things really that bad between you and Sensei?"

I'm too ashamed to tell her Sensei refuses to train me in ninjutsu anymore or that he nearly slapped me into oblivion. I don't want her to know how horrible I am. I want her to still like me… for her to still see me as the turtle she kissed last night before all this madness.

Oh, isn't that sweet? You want to screw her now, lover-boy? Hey, would you snap her neck before or after you had your way with her?

"I… I really need to get back to work." The words rush out of my mouth as the thoughts hacking into my mind become more brutal and vivid. I can almost visualize April's battered and bruised head twisted in a unnatural manner. The imagery of it fascinates me just as much as pounding in that kid's face….wait, wh-what am I thinking?! "I have to go." I move the phone away from my ear slit, but pause when I hear her shout my name on the other end.

"Donnie, wait! I didn't mean to upset you." Her voice is pleading, but I ignore the way it pulls at something warm and loving inside of me.

"I have a lot of tests to run to see what's wrong… I mean to make sure nothing is wrong with… with… the retromutagen." I stumble over my words as I try desperately to get off the phone.

"Do you need any help?"

"It's fine, really. I just—"

I could come over and—"

"No! I said it's fine, so just drop it!" There's a growling undertone beneath the sudden burst of anger in my voice. Still clutching the T-phone, my hand shakes nervously. The line is silent aside from the hitch in April's breathing. My mouth is partially open as I stand there, still holding the phone to my ear. It's too late to take back my harsh words and before I can muster an apology the call ends. I curse loudly as I throw my T-phone at the adjacent wall and watch it crack in two. The two sides of the phone rock back and forth after hitting the floor, its wires and electronic components scattered. I curse again before sighing angrily and picking up the broken pieces. Keep it together, Donatello. Whatever crazy emotions are running rabid in my mind, I need to bury them. I need to be objective, functional, and logical.

Placing the broken pieces of my T-cell in a 'fix me' pile on my desk to repair later, I return my attention to my blood samples. These violent thoughts are giving me reason for immediate concern. Knowing that April was at the center of those terrible images in my mind is unnerving. No more interruptions, I'm going straight to—

The intensifying nausea in my stomach stops me in my tracks. This time it's not a tease, but a definite warning of gross things to come. Rushing out of my lab and into the bathroom, I manage to close the door before dropping to my knees and vomiting into the toilet. Breakfast and lunch force their way up my esophagus, burning the back of my throat as it spews from my mouth with vengeance. Groaning, I lean away from the toilet, rubbing my plastron as the spasms in my stomach begin to fade. I grimace at the discolored chunks in the bowl. I flush before my stomach decides to turn on me again. Throwing up doesn't give me much relief. I just feel even more miserable than before. My eyes widen at the rumbling beneath my plastron…. okay, I'm miserable and hungry…. again.

The sudden pounding on the door jerks me out of my thoughts.

"Hurry the shell up in there! I need the shower! It doesn't take that long to pee or take a dump!" Raph's voice grates my nerves as I pull myself from the floor. I splash a bit of water on my face before quickly pulling the door open. He blinks with surprise to find me in the bathroom, but the surprise is washed away and replaced with a seething glare.

"Move it, Sasquatch." He shoves me out the bathroom. The way he sneers that insulting name at me sticks to something at the depths of my core like a weight of heavy malice. The door slams as I retreat to my lab.

You should've slit his throat. Let him bleed out like a filthy pig, and then—

I ignore the murderous thought as I march over to the lab table and prepare a fresh blood sample for the microscope. I release my breath to calm my nerves before I look through the lens.

"Oh no…. that cannot be good." Magnifying my blood sample to the highest resolution, I can't believe what my eyes are seeing.

I flop down on the end of the couch and ease Donnie's laptop on top of my crossed legs. Leo's on the other end watching the evening news. I look back towards the closed lab door. Donnie's been cooped up in there all afternoon. Hopefully, I'll have his laptop back in his bedroom way before he knows it's missing.

Donnie totally freaked me out last night. Truthfully, at some point, all of my brothers have threatened me in one way or another, but last night was different. For a brief moment, there was a dark gleam in his eyes and in the back of my mind I feared for my life. A dude should never feel that way about his own bro.

"I hope Raphael's room is clean before you start playing games on Donatello's laptop." Leo gives me a sideways glance.

I ignore his bossy tone. "Totally cleaned, bruh. Everything is exactly how it was…I even put the dust back on his shelves." I give him a cheeky smile. His half-lidded eyes are unamused.

"Did Donnie help you after he finished Hashi?" He asks as if he's looking for a reason to get on Donnie's case again.

"Yeah," I quickly lie, burying my face closer to the laptop screen to keep Leo from questioning me any further. Honestly, Donnie didn't even try to help a turtle out, but I get it. He really wasn't himself last night or this morning. He was scary quiet and totally zoned out in practice, and his aura was downright creepy. The evil black stuff surrounding his purple aura is getting worse. It's growing and spreading like a sticky web. The imagery of gears in his headspace are spluttering and getting stuck as the darkness gets thicker, filling the nooks and crannies of his mind. It got worse every time Leo or Raph yelled at him in practice. Whatever this dark crud invading my bro's aura is, I gotta stop it. Leo's too busy playing follow the leader to listen to me; I could barely get Don's name out of my mouth before Raph bit my head off saying, 'I don't wanna to talk about that bratty little snot, so beat it'; and Sensei totally broke the sound barrier with a slap heard around the world. He hasn't left his room since this morning, so he must still be pretty ticked off at Donnie. So, that leaves me to figure out what's going on with my brainy brother.

I type the word 'aura' and press enter. The search brings up everything from migraines to soothsayers. I click on a site called Aura Awareness. I read through as much of the introductory page as my attention span will allow before I start rapidly scrolling down the page. My eyes widen with raised brows as the sight of two words make me scroll back up a few sentences.

Black auras. Hunching over slightly, I fervently read over the section:

Black or muddied colors in the headspace and core can indicate blockages in the thought and feeling process.

Dude, I was totally on point with the blockage of feels!

Any darkening of one's auric color can denote a problem, whether physical, emotional, mental, or spiritual. Individuals with darkened auras may be prone to severe depression.

Donnie's dealing with his whole growth spurt thing and working overtime trying to make the retromutagen with no success so far. That's enough to bum anybody into depression. The more I read, the more worried I am about my brother. The increasing sound of a newscaster's voice, makes me frown at Leo as he leans forward and presses the volume on the remote. I watch the TV to see what grabbed my eldest brother's attention.

"This is Carlos Chiang O'Brien Gambe coming to you live from King Street at the scene of a horrible assault. Fourteen-year-old Malique Johnson was found brutally beaten right here at approximately 12:30 this morning. Johnson is alive but in critical condition at Kings County hospital. Police stated when they arrived at the scene of the crime, Johnson's face was severely beaten more than likely with a blunt object. The charity center was also broken into, with money scattered everywhere. There's evidence Johnson was not alone in this attack, but witnesses have yet to come forth. Police are urging citizens to be extremely watchful while—"

Feeling an eerie chill under my shell, I tune out the rest of the broadcast. That's the same charity center where Donnie and I were fighting off those kids. Pieces of the truth slowly come together, and then rapidly merge forming a mental picture as my brain realizes in horror what really happened last night.

Donnie said I was whacked in the head. He said he took care of the last kid. He had blood smear all over his plastron. I don't want to believe that my brother beat that kid within an inch of his life, but deep down I know. I know his aura was seriously jacked up. I know he was upset, he was furious…. and I was afraid of him. Remembering my dream last night, I feel a whole new level of dread.

I hear Leo sigh from the other side of the couch. "That kid had no business being out so late, especially with maniacs like that roaming the streets. It's a real shame. Hopefully the police will find him soon."

I don't offer any commentary as I start typing again. Something tells me I'm just scratching the surface of whatever's going on with Donnie. A sense of urgency makes my fingers tingle with anxious energy as I type with newfound purpose.

I spent several hours analyzing and reanalyzing my blood samples, but the results are still the same.

For the umpteenth time, I slide a sample of my blood from a few months ago under the microscope and compare it to the recent sample. My old blood sample is similar to my brothers'; the cells have a unique human-turtle DNA make-up, intertwined with traces of mutagen. Specks of mutagen are visible at a microscopic level in our cellular structure. Flipping the lens to my most recent blood sample, I can see the mutagen multiplying in my cells. I watch in horror as legions of mutagen particles seem to have a mind of their own as they latch on to other cells, break down them down, and rebuild them right before my eyes.

I'm mutating.

I barely have a chance to process this fact as an unexpected pain burns in my spine like fire traveling up a gasoline-soaked pole. I stumble backwards until my shell hits the wall. The harsh collision with the wall causes a burst of pain that sucks the air from my lungs, forcing the imminent scream back into my throat. I almost black out as a new form of agony rips through my back and spreads like electricity from my neck down to my feet simultaneously. I fold like a ragdoll to the floor as my legs give out beneath me. It feels like hours have passed, but the pain finally abandons me, leaving a dull ache in my neck, back, and feet. Pushing myself to my hands and knees, I rub the back of my neck, but instantly stop as fear and panic grip my mind. There's a considerable lump on my neck just below the ridge of my carapace. I hiss at the tenderness of the bulging flesh.

"Ah!" As I stand, my heels are also tender and sore. Leaning my side against the wall, I gingerly lift my foot at an angle so I can see it. There's a trickle blood trailing from my heel

….Is… is that a bone?!

A small white tip, no bigger than head of a marker, is sticking out of my swollen and discolored heel. The same pointed tip is on my other foot as well. Ever the scientist, I can't help but inspect it. Both bone spurs protrude approximately half an inch from my heel. I gasp as it moves when I tense the muscles in my heel.

For several minutes I just stand there trying to grasp what just happened, trying to understand this horrific discovery. The sudden growth spurts, enlarged feet, ravenous appetite, and now these 'growths' on my feet and neck…. they are all part of this new mutation. But why now… why me? What's causing this drastic increase of mutagenic cells? Am I having a secondary mutation? ...But how is that even possible? I'm always extremely careful when handling mutagen. I've never had a drop touch my skin. Besides, the effects of skin contact with mutagen is pretty immediate; I would have known before now if I managed to accidentally touch any of it. It's not happening to my brothers or Sensei, so this has to be something unique to my mutagenic anatomy…. yes, that makes sense.

Yes, it does makes sense. There's always been something different about you, something wrong… something not quite like your brothers.

An overwhelming feeling of insecurity blankets my mind. I… I can't tell anyone about this, not yet.

What's the matter? Afraid your family will reject you? ...Oh, wait they already have. Leonardo, Raphael, and even Master Splinter think you are waste of breathing space.

"But not Mikey. He still thinks I'm worth something," I rebut the voice that now sounds like it belongs to someone standing beside me, even though I am alone in my lab.

Yes, but for how long? How long will it take for him to turn on you as well? ….For him to see the pathetic, worthless, sorry shell of a freak you are? He knows there's something wrong with you. The way you mutilated that kid…. it's only a matter of time before you do it again. Then your dear little brother will see what a vicious monster you really are.

"Shut up!" Clutching the sides of my head, I snap fiercely at the empty space around me.

Make me.

"Ugh! This is nonsense! I'm talking to myself!"

No, genius, you're talking to me, and it's about time, too. I was starting to think you were an idiot like that revolting little brother of yours.

Is this mutation causing verbal hallucinations?

Hallucination? Is that all I am to you? You wound me, Donatello. I thought we had something special.

Okay, I'm hearing things that clearly aren't there. I think I need to lay down for a bit to clear my head. This is a lot to process. I take a moment to disinfect the bone spurs on my heels before covering them with my foot wrappings. They don't hurt as badly now, but they feel awkward like I'm walking with an extra toe. There isn't much I can do about the lump on my neck. Looking in the mirror above the hand-washing area, I can see its hidden pretty well beneath the cuff of my upper shell. It's still sore as I gently press on the lump. There's also heat beneath it…probably inflammation. Grabbing a small ice pack from my mini fridge, I place it over the area. I can't help but steal a glance at myself in the mirror. My olive green skin is starting to take on a blotchy artichoke color. Even with my mask on, my eyes are faded and tired. I look just as bad as I feel. At the steady rate at which my cells are mutating, I might have another month and a half at most before….

No, I can't think about that right now. With decisiveness, I consider the last canister of mutagen at my computer desk. I need to stop the mutation in my cells, or at least slow them down. Surely, I can manipulate the batch of retromutagen I'm working on to act as an inhibitor for my wayward cells.

Still in denial, huh? You actually think this is something that needs to be 'fixed'?

I shake my head side to side. No, I can fix this. My family may think I'm a failure, but in the realm of Science, I am king. I yawn as I sit on the medbay. The adrenaline rush from this most recent 'mutation' has worn off and my limbs are heavy with exhaustion as I lay down. A clear mind will give me a fresh start in the morning. The mattress concaves slightly to weight of my body as I eventually fall asleep while calculating workable chemical equations for the inhibitor.

I'll show you I'm much more than just a hallucination…..

Massaging the fur along my brow, I conclude my meditation. There was a time when I perceived my sons to be a handful as toddlers. Now I wonder if I have spoken too soon. As teenagers they are proving to be quite challenging. I often find myself longing for their younger selves.

Leonardo still struggles with his role as leader. It was glaringly obvious during his brothers' tomfoolery yesterday and even more so during this morning's practice. Unbeknownst to them, I watched as they trained. Complete discord. Leonardo's only solution was to bark orders until someone listened. Unfortunately, no one listened. He either lets his brothers take complete advantage of him or he militantly tries to control them. He has yet to find an equilibrium between the two. I cannot teach him this skill; I can only hope the balance will come to him over time and through experience.

Raphael, my strong son and also my most vocally passionate. He constantly cries neglect and injustice with his fiery temper. I assumed Leo's order for Michelangelo and Donatello to clean the disastrous mess they made in his room was fair retribution for his…. embarrassment. Unfortunately, this was not the case, because I found him antagonizing Donatello when I specifically told him not to disturb his brother. His disobedience left me no choice but to reward him with his own Hashi session.

Michelangelo's laughter and joyous disposition was strangely absent today. My two younger sons have always been very close. I can only imagine how Donatello's recent change in behavior is affecting my youngest. Michelangelo is my most emotionally sensitive child and often takes his brothers' mannerisms to heart. I could see the worry and hurt in his eyes as Donatello was especially distant from him today.

I release the disquiet in my soul with a sigh as my thoughts drift with trepidation to Donatello. His worsening behavior is taxing to this old heart. I have never experienced such stubbornness and rage from my second youngest. I fear he surpasses Raphael with his temperament. There is a saying that one draws more flies with honey than vinegar. It seems all our private sessions start as honey and escalate to a vinegary aftertaste. I have tried reasoning with him to the best of my ability. I have done everything short of going into his aura myself to find the root of this darkening attitude. As tempting as it is to step into his aura, to do so uninvited could prove to be dangerous for both of us, as Donatello has been anything but open to the idea of exploring his aura.

I am at my wit's end. I do not know how else to reach him without pushing him further away, so instead I will love him enough to release my grip. If he does not desire my teaching, I will allow life to be his teacher instead. However, life's lessons will not be as kind as I am. It pains me to do this, but no amount of hashi sessions will break his resolve…. it is why I said nothing as he slipped away to his lab while I reprimanded Raphael.

I look down at the hand I used to strike Donatello. All of my sons have received disciplinary knocks from my walking stick from time to time, but when I struck Donatello it was not for discipline, but out of enragement. It is the first time I struck any of my children in anger. Blinking the mist from my eyes, its times like this I wonder how Tang Shen would have handled this situation.

She would have been patient, kind, and understanding. She would have found a way to reach Donatello, but never a hand would she have raised.

I should never have hit him in such a way, but I believe the decision to stop his training is needed for now. I cannot teach someone who does not wish to be taught. He mocks my warnings of spiritual dangers. Donatello has struggled with the concepts of logic and spirit for many years, but I fear this struggle has come to a crossroads in which he must conduct his own soul-searching to challenge the very things he holds as self-truths. Until then, I cannot continue his teachings in ninjutsu. To do so would leave him unprepared and vulnerable to enemies that prey not only on the body, but also the spirit.

After this latest argument, I think it is best to allow space between Donatello and myself to avoid fanning the flames of anger between us. It will allow us a chance to reflect on our words and actions. I am too burdened with worry for my troubled son to sleep. Resuming my meditative position, I pray for much needed guidance.

A nagging hollowness at my core pulls me back from the brink of sleep and into a state of drowsy consciousness. Curling onto my side, I groan as my stomach grumbles its demand for food. I squeeze my eyes shut as I try to ignore the deep whines of my belly, but it refuses to be overlooked as it mandates my immediate attention with hunger pains clawing viciously at the walls of my intestines.

"Gah!" My eyes spring open at the flaring pain in my stomach. Forgetting the short width of the medbay, I find myself falling to the floor with hard thud. With arms still wrapped around my middle, I push myself to a sitting position. I stare up at the ceiling trying to calm my ragged breathing. Hugging my stomach tighter, I grunt as I reflexively pull my knees to my chest. It feels like medieval torture as my intestines coil and uncoil like barbwire against the lining of my body cavity. I can barely think pass this pain as I feel myself slipping, fading into the background of this incurable hunger. I have to make it stop.

My vision blurs and I feel like a passenger in my own body as my legs seem to move of their own accord. Am I sleepwalking? ...I'm not sure, but I am sure of the excruciating cramping of my innards. The pain no longer cripples me but pushes me forward. I don't remember leaving my room, but somehow find myself in front of the kitchen. A tantalizing smell overpowers my nostrils…. Food.

Stumbling to the table, I lean against a chair while rubbing my plastron, trying to soothe the agonizing sensation of starvation. I need something to eat, anything to make this never-ending hunger stop. I sniff the air, following the scent to the fridge. Yanking open its door, I hiss as its bright light showers over me. I take a long sniff inside the rectangular storage of food and immediately begin to salivate. Within seconds, I find the source of the savory scent and single-handedly lunge for it. I take no heed to my lack of eating utensils and dive in teeth first. It's juicy and soft, so I don't bother chewing, finding it quicker to just swallow. I groan in delight as I slide down the open refrigerator. The coolness against the back of my head feels nice, but it's nothing compared to this mouthwatering food. I don't even open my eyes, I just relish the relief in my poor belly. No longer driven by painful hunger, I slowly drift back into a state of control. I sigh like a happy drunk, and sluggishly open my eyes.

"What... what…" I stutter as my hands tremble in shock and confusion. In my upturned palms are the remains of a pink foam plate. The last chunk of food in my mouth loses its appeal and now feels wet and mushy. It tastes grainy and metallic. The ninja lifestyle has made me accustomed to the bitter taste of blood in my mouth, but not like this. Never like this.

I just ate raw meat. Ground beef to be exact.

I feel nausea but instead of throwing up, I swallow it. I just devoured raw meat… and it was delicious.

Still think I'm just a figment of your imagination?...

TBC...

A/N: So there you have it, Donnie's finally come to the shocking conclusion of what's wrong with him. How will our turtle in purple approach this ever growing problem? Stay Tuned to find out! As always please leave a review, I love to hear from you guys! It's always interesting to see the range of emotions and perspectives in each review I receive. I want to take a minute to do some shameless author shout-outs for the stories I've been following/reading for a few weeks now:

Novus Ordo Seclorum - "Forever on a Winter's Eve" - If you're looking for a good drama/tragedy and you're a Donnie fan, this is a MUST read! The raw emotions just make your heart ache!

FaithfulWhispers - "Grinding Gears" - Looking for a good psychological thriller with our fav turtle in purple? Check out this fic, its like a roller coaster ride!

FaithfulWhispers and BelatedBeliever1127 - "Consuming Darkness" - Any Mikey fans out there? You will LOVE this story! It draws you in from the first chapter and each chapter leaves you begging for more. The ladies know how to bring the feels!

Andrea O'Down - "I, April" - There aren't a lot of fanfic about April O'Neil that really grab my attention, but this one?...Wow. The characterization of April in this story is phenomenal!...She instantly goes from 2D to 3D in this story! Be prepared for twists, shocks, and surprises!

J Smith18 - "Expecting the Unexpected" - This young author is really honing in her writing and storytelling skills! Show her some love! If you like Mikey dramas check out her story. Be prepared: it does contain Tcest and Mpreg.

Silvermoontwentyseven - "Sacrifice" - All you Leo fans, this is a MUST! This author is so in-tune with the emotions of the characters she writes it unbelievable! She pull out emotions in you that you didn't know you had!

SewerSurfin - "Airborn" and "Who's Slice is it Anyway?" - To me these stories are novelties because they really capture the essence of the 1987 ninja turtles. The mannerisms and humor are on point, a MUST read for any old school turtle fans!

There are so many more wonderful authors I could list! For a full list of my favorites, check out my 'author list' on my profile page.

Later!

Poetique