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Old 06-25-2020, 04:34 PM   #1781
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Quick Raph I did a few weeks back. I should draw more turtles.

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Old 06-26-2020, 04:39 PM   #1782
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I wish these dusty old forums had some sort of upvote system so we could thumbs up all the cool fanart.

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Old 06-30-2020, 03:07 PM   #1783
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Finally close to wrapping up the season finale of my ten-book series, I've mainly spent the last ten pages writing the ending before I have to stick all the action scenes in the middle. Least favourite part of the process (I'm big on character), I might write more TMNT books after that, but definitely not another full 'season'.
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Old 08-23-2020, 07:17 AM   #1784
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Hope no one minds if I put a preview of my earlier work here - I haven't been all that active in writing lately, but I do have quite a lot of stuff online, and this is how it started. My series is set in the 90s movies timeline, beginning here around 6 weeks after Secret of the Ooze and 6 months or so before movie III.

Maybe someone here will be enticed into reading more by this preview, maybe not... So, here it is...

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Day of the Rat Preview

New York, the 1970s...

He could hear it again. The scrabbling. Far off but coming nearer. He opened his eyes, and immediately closed them again against the intense glare.

"He's coming 'round..." He felt hands adjust the layers of cloth covering him. Covering him - He was lying down. In a bed. He heard, faintly, a P/A system - What was that, how did he know what that was? - Where did that phrase come from...?

"Doctor Howard... Doctor Howard to Ward C20... Doctor Fine to Cardiology... Repeat - That's Doctor Howard to C20 please..."

The scrabbling was still there. Coming nearer...Thinking about that could wait. His mind was being flooded, overwhelmed, with these sensations and he needed to cope with them one at a time. One of the hands which wasn't his took one that was. It felt his wrist, held his hand in the air...

"I got a hundred and twenty-five... That's too fast... Golda...?"


The scrabbling was still there. Coming nearer... He wondered if these others could hear it too.

"This guy's pulse is a little fast and erratic. I think we should call"- The voice choked off and gasped in pain, and he wondered why, a moment before realizing it was because of him. He had grabbed the wrist firmly, a little too firmly, and he felt a delicate bone snap under the pressure. The nurse - it was a nurse, he could only be in a hospital - tried to snatch her hand away, only succeeding after a few seconds of struggle.

He didn't know his own strength. That was a cliche, he thought, then wondered what a cliche was.

The scrabbling was still there. Coming nearer... He also found himself wondering what that was.

Feeling he could bear the pain of the light now, he opened his eyes. A round face with large dark eyes, a woman around forty, stared back at him, nursing her damaged wrist. "He's awake," she said. "Mister Hynten... Can you hear me? Mister Hynten?"

Hynten. Was that his name? It didn't seem wrong, it seemed somehow incomplete. Like it was true, but only covered a tiny portion of who he was. He was Hynten, he realized. Lawrence Hynten had been his name. There had been other names before that, though... So many names...

The scrabbling stopped... No need to worry about it then.

He suddenly felt an unbearable urge to move, to get out of this bed, this prison. He clawed at the confining sheets, pulled the device out of his arm, scarcely noticing the pain, lurched to his feet and stood on unsteady legs, swaying.

"He shouldn't be able to do that... Golda...?! Need some help here. Mister Hynten, please listen to me. My name's - Ow - Nurse Marjean... You can't... You shouldn't be out of bed. Please don't touch the bandages, Mister Hynten. You were attacked, you've got some injuries, you'll be OK, you really will. But you have to leave those bandages alone..."


Lawrence Hynten took a step back and wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his overall. He smiled. "There. That's it done. Boy, I can't wait to get out of this place. It's like a sewer down here." He laughed, started to run a hand through his hair, and then remembered it was covered in gunk...

She was right about the bandages. His face was half-covered, wrapped around with soft bands of linen. Underneath... No, no, he had to leave them alone, leave the bandages alone, that was important, he must obey that.

Lawrence Hynten took off one glove and carefully sniffed the substance on it. "What is this stuff? Well, it's not toxic, that's for sure. Nice shade of green..." Hey, what was that noise? That scrabbling...

"What... What attacked me?"

"We're not sure. Look, sir, it's best you just lie back down right now. We've got you fixed up, you just need to rest now... Golda, hi, could you get... Mister Sanders, please?"

"Mister what? Oh, yeah, right..."

The creatures came out of nowhere. They were on Lawrence Hynten before he could call out, not that anyone could hear him, before he could even take a proper breath. He panicked as they climbed his body, as new waves of them covered him and enveloped him in a stinking furry mass...

He took a rattling breath, reassured to find he could breathe properly. The nurse looked concerned. "Can you remember anything about what happened, sir?" she asked. A sudden insight told him she was playing for time.

Time for what?

Mister Sanders... An official euphemism, mustn't alarm people... Security. Security for what? Was someone around here dangerous? Then he realized, and his eyes snapped round to the nurse with something new in them. The vagueness was gone. Lawrence Hynten was no longer alone in there.

They wouldn't understand. He had to get out of here. But how? That was when the vent in the wall launched itself across the room and the confined mass of creatures poured out.

They had come for him again. This time, though, he wasn't afraid.


Almost 16 years later...

The streets of New York on this particular Thursday evening, just as it was getting dark, were frenzied and chaotic. Car horns blared, voices yelled, people pushed and shoved each other.

Which was fine, this was normal. But what wasn't normal was the sudden arrival of-

-Rats! First a few, then a hundred, then a thousand. Scurrying out of storm drains, out of dark alleys - In one unfortunate case, out of a car window into the face of a baffled onlooker. Rats. Lots and lots of rats, and more rats. Rats.


Not much could faze the people of New York, but this was too much. A hot dog vendor abandoned his stall. Drivers left their cars in the middle of the road. A mother snatched her baby from its buggy and ran. It didn't matter where, just away from the rats! A panicked man fell over that buggy in a tangle of arms and legs.

It got so bad one guy even abandoned the takeaway pizza he was eating.
It got that bad.

A magazine stand was up-ended and its contents spilled out onto the street. One magazine that landed face-up in a shallow puddle showed a grainy picture of four bizarre creatures on a stage next to a man with flattop hair. "NINJA TURTLES NO MORE: ANATOMY OF A FLASH IN THE PAN," read the bold text.


One rat among the multitude had a separate purpose. It ran along the side of an apartment building, darted up the wall and jumped onto a fire escape, then up onto the roof and then down a drainpipe... It jumped onto another fire escape, and through a window, passing through the narrowest of gaps, spine crackling as it achieved access.

The chaos outside was audible, but even so the apartment was an oasis of calm. It was open-plan, with a spiral staircase leading to an upper floor. No one was around, and the rat scurried to and fro. All its senses attuned, focused on... what?

Jumping onto the sofa, the rat landed on a remote control and switched on the television. Attention caught, it watched as the screen lit up and, after a moment, with a faint buzz of static, a picture resolved...

- "So, tell me, Miss, uh, Miss McWilliams, how did you first meet, um, this giant Turtle? It was a Turtle, that's right? You're sure about that?"

- "I assure you, Miss O'Neil, that I know a Turtle when I see one. My ex-father kept dozens of amphibians, and I'm not likely to mistake a Turtle for, say, a terrapin..."

- "And, let me see if I've got this right, this Turtle was approximately six and a half feet tall - hmm - wore a red band around his eyes - red, huh? - and spoke with a..."

- "A Hungarian accent, yes..."


Last edited by Musashi; 08-26-2020 at 05:07 PM.
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Old 08-23-2020, 07:21 AM   #1785
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"Something like Dracula actor Bela Lugosi...?" ventured April O'Neil helpfully, leaning forward, dark eyes wide in apparently sincere interest. Realizing she might have offended her guest, she smiled in a hopefully disarming fashion, before pushing back a stray lock of brown hair as she stole a brief glance at her notes.

The forty-something woman in the chair opposite just became more and more affronted - pinched, sharp features tightening as thinly plucked eyebrows rose higher and higher. "I hope I don't detect a tone of mockery in your voice, Miss O'Neil," she reproved sternly. "That would be most unprofessional of you."

The red neon signs displayed ON AIR, and the WRTL Channel 3 News studio was hushed and tense - From the floor to the soundproofed gallery, all attention was focused on the small set faced by three large TV cameras on wheeled pedestals.

April found her gaze shifting gradually up as Miss McWilliams spoke - She just couldn't help it. Her guest's greying hair was scraped up into a very large bun on top of her head, like a massive loaf of bread balanced there precariously, and every time she spoke the bun wobbled alarmingly side to side, forward and back. A few times, April had had to stop herself trying to catch it.

"Not at all, Miss McWilliams. I think it's true to say, a lot of people are very interested in these Turtles, ever since the pictures were first released, and those like yourself, who have actually seen them in, um, person..." Searching for the right words, April was actually rather pleased about managing to say all that with a straight face.

"In person...?"

"Well, I mean that it's one thing to see a couple of soft-focus pictures and a few seconds of grainy film"-

-"They exist, Miss O'Neil..." Miss McWilliams said in a hushed tone, eyes widening. "Never doubt it..."

"Oh, I don't..." said April, allowing herself to be just ever so slightly enigmatic. "Now, this Turtle you say you've"-

-"Stanley was kind enough to intervene and fend off some unwanted male attention following a class we both attended"-

-"An aerobics class?" April cut in, trying to establish a logical through-line for the viewers at home. Hey, it may not have been her idea to interview this strange character, but she was going to do the job to the best of her ability.

Miss McWilliams tutted. "Yes, an aerobics class. Stanley is a keen practitioner of kung fu and uses aerobics to keep his joints supple. Now, it is an unfortunate fact that although aerobics classes are mainly attended by ladies, there is an occasional, how to put it, element involved that might be there just to... Um..."

"But not Stanley?" demanded April doggedly. She leaned forward, pointing and waving her pen at Miss McWilliams in an accusing gesture, and in response her guest retreated further back into her seat. "And you're sure, totally sure, he was called Stanley...? And... And six and a half feet? Really? Oh, and kung fu? You're sure it was kung fu...?"

Miss McWilliams sounded flustered. "What curious questions, if I might say so, Miss O'Neil, even by the standards you've set yourself so far. Stanley was, and is, a perfect gentleman. Or, heh, gentleturtle perhaps..." She allowed herself a little chuckle at the joke, before realizing no one else had even recognized it as such.

On the monitor, April could see that an artist's sketch based on Miss McWilliams's description of the mysterious "Stanley" had been flashed up on the screen. With his red bandana streaming in the wind, "Stanley" cut an almost familiar figure. Almost, but not quite.

Way too tall. Not enough attitude.

"But... Miss McWilliams, didn't anyone else at the class find Stanley's appearance... um, curious? Even perhaps threatening...?"

"Well yes, that was clearly... a factor..." Clearing her throat, Miss McWilliams continued. "I for one soon found that one wasn't to be fooled by his apparently mean exterior"-

-"Mean? I think he's kinda cute..." was April's automatic response. Her glance flicked over to the camera lens for the briefest of moments. "Uh, not that I have a favorite, obviously..."

"Really, Miss O'Neil, if you will keep interrupting me"-

-"Actually, Miss McWilliams, it looks like that's all we have time for." As her guest reacted with indignation, April turned to the center of the three cameras. "Well, that is indeed all we have time for tonight, folks. I guess that even now, almost six weeks since those famous photographs first appeared, those so-called Ninja Turtles still have a lot of unanswered questions left hanging..."

"This has been a sham"- Miss McWilliams' mic was abruptly cut off and her voice faded. April glanced out of shot briefly, then had an even briefer rabbit in the headlights moment before giving the viewers at home her full attention again with an apologetic grin.

"You have been watching Channel Three's News Digest," she signed off. "Join us tomorrow night at six-thirty when your host will be Jim McNaughton, and I will be back on Monday for your regular news updates..."


"This is April O'Neil. Please enjoy your Thursday evening."

The glow of the TV screen was reflected in the rat's eyes. As if it had seen all it needed to, the creature turned and left the apartment the way it had come in.

It scurried down the fire escape all the way to the ground. It kept to the shadows and vanished into a storm drain.

Hurrying through the tunnels below, the rat followed a labyrinthine path that took it deep into New York's sewer system. It came to rest finally and looked up as a shadow fell over it. A callused, bandaged hand reached down and picked up the rat, bringing it close to a face also half covered by bandages.

A hoarse voice whispered, "I will have your report now, my soldier. What have you discovered?" The rat relaxed in its master's hands, nose sniffing the air. It made no sound, but he listened as if they were in some way communing. "Ah yes. The surface-dwellers and their delusions. That can only work to our advantage..."

The bandaged man produced a flute-like instrument and started to play. The tunnel was filled with a melancholy tune, and soon that tune could be heard for miles through the entire sewer system...


Below the streets of New York, in the repurposed subway station, a pair of unnaturally large rodent ears perked up.

Splinter frowned. That tune again. It was familiar, and yet not. It spoke to him of unbearable longing and seemed to beckon to him. Come, come with me. Come with me and all your wishes will be granted. He almost did as it asked. He almost followed it to its source. But Splinter would not be anyone's slave. Splinter was strong.

"My sons... Perhaps I was wrong to send you away..." He shivered.

Would he be strong enough?
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Old 08-23-2020, 07:25 AM   #1786
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The preview has to include the Turtles in some form, so here, later in the story, Splinter has resorted to potentially putting their human friend in danger to get his sons back to New York to help deal with the developing crisis...

Extract 2 - The empty parking lot of a disused factory, upstate New York

"Uh, guys," Michelangelo said thoughtfully as he approached, peering closely, "I don't think this guy is actually, you know, a guy." Nodding as if to confirm his diagnosis, he grinned as the rider gave him a thumbs up.

"Hey, wasn't that bike Casey's?" Leonardo pondered.

"Yeah," said April, removing the helmet, the long dark hair that might have given them a clue tucked under the upturned collar of her leather jacket. "And it still would be if he'd gotten it back from the pawn shop instead'a me." They clustered around her excitedly. "Hi, guys!"

"Hi, April," said Donatello. "Suziquatrotastic."

"Hi, Donny. Uh, thanks?" Handing the helmet to Michelangelo, April watched indulgently as he looked at it for a moment before trying unsuccessfully to fit it on his own head. "Definitely not a guy, Mikey. Well spotted." He shrugged bashfully, and left the helmet hanging on one of the bike's handlebars.

"Suziquatrotastic?" Raphael murmured skeptically. Donatello shrugged diffidently, standing by his made-up adjective.

"Yeah, April, nice outfit," remarked Leonardo politely. "Very shiny."

"Leather city," said Michelangelo admiringly.

"No, actually," April teased. "Kitty's, the store for the discerning lady biker... It's just around the corner from Leather City." She turned slightly to include the others. "Hey, you know, when you're a celebrity, going incognito isn't so easy. But then, you guys would know all about that."

Realizing something, she turned to Donatello again. "Hey, Donny, you got your voice back! You sound like your old self!"

"Yeah," said Donatello casually. "Turned out it was laryngitis."

"We never even knew he had a larynge," said Michelangelo, adding innocently, "Hey, where did Casey go, anyway?"

Raphael glanced at him, appalled, and slapped a hand over his eyes.

"Mikey, you know we don't talk about that," Leonardo admonished, shaking his head. "Not when..." Tailing off, he indicated April with subtle sideways movements of his head, stopping abruptly when she turned to look at him.

"It's OK, Leo, really," April assured him, holding up a hand and starting to ease off her gloves. "We both needed some space for a while..." she recited, her words sounding very well-rehearsed.

"Did it have to be this much space...?" Raphael asked moodily.

"I told him he needed to grow up a little..." April pursed her lips, scrunching the gloves and lightly tapping them against her other hand. "OK, a lot."

"That's a big ask," said Mikey.

"And you know, according to him, I've changed," she added scathingly, slapping the gloves down on the bike's handlebars and folding her arms. "Hey, get this - I'm a different person."

"Metatextual," said Donatello, and the others gave him a curious look.

"It'll be fine," said Raphael gruffly, uncomfortable.

"Hiii, Raph," said April playfully, skipping over to adjust the trailing ends of his red bandana. "You doing OK? Had, um, any solo adventures lately?" She raised an eyebrow. "Anything you wanna share?"

"Well, I suppose-" Raphael began cautiously and a little suspiciously, but Leonardo interrupted.

"-Hey, not that it isn't nice to see you, April-"

"-It's aaalways nice to see Aaaapril..." Michelangelo drawled, sidling up and snuggling against her, head on her shoulder. Laughing, she pushed him away, but held onto his arm.

-"But you've got a reason for coming out here, haven't you?" Leo continued, concerned. "Is something wrong?"

There was a pause before April replied, and in that pause the whole mood changed. "It's Splinter," she told them. "He sent me to find you guys."

Last edited by Musashi; 09-02-2020 at 12:38 PM.
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Old 08-23-2020, 07:33 AM   #1787
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And finally, upon returning to New York, via a few adventures on the way, the Turtles go looking for Master Splinter... and then they find him.

Extract 3 - Subterranean New York

"Master...?" Leonardo stepped forward, and Splinter's eyes moved to follow him. They still showed no sign of recognition. "It's us..."

Raphael approached too and looked up at their sensei. He turned to the others and shook his head. "Guys... There's definitely something wrong here. This is some kind of trap. Let's just grab him and get outta here."

Michelangelo lolloped forward like an overgrown puppy. "OK, master. Don't you move. I'm coming up there."

He climbed up towards Splinter's position above them, and their sensei slowly walked over to meet him. As Michelangelo reached the same level, he held out a hand and the Turtle took it automatically.

He yelped as Splinter twisted his wrist and propelled him with an extended foot out into mid-air. Splinter watched expressionlessly as Michelangelo hit the ground like a very surprised stone and lay there on his back, dazed.

"Guys... Did Master Splinter ever mention if he had an evil twin...?"

"What's going on here...?"

Leonardo walked over to the fallen Michelangelo to help him get off his back and was stopped abruptly as a shuriken clanged off a pipe far too near to his head for comfort.

All three Turtles gaped as Splinter flipped over the safety rail and climbed smoothly down to their level and stood confronting them.

Splinter extended his arms in an unmistakable gesture of challenge.

Last edited by Musashi; 08-23-2020 at 03:36 PM.
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Old 08-23-2020, 09:40 AM   #1788
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What the hell, one more. While the Turtles are preoccupied with the emergence of their new foe the [redacted], the Foot Clan are busy trying to rebuild after their defeat in Secret of the Ooze, despite the absence of the Shredder. How do they go about that...? Fall back on plan A.

Extract 4 - The Foot Clan's junkyard base

Tatsu strode across the yard toward them at a measured pace, and the low murmuring of conversation among the Foot died as he approached and entered the workshop. He stood silent and still as a statue for a long moment, indifferent to the forlornly accusing look April directed at him in her tied and taped up misery.

"Master Shredder is gone." Tatsu did not have to demand quiet from the others, his presence alone achieved it. "Killed by the... sewer vermin. We will avenge him... They will be drawn here. To free our prisoner. All escape blocked. Trapped. Like rats." His eyes flitted around the workshop as he spoke, gauging the reaction.

April sat still, but her hands were busy behind her urgently trying to loosen the rope around her wrists, trying and getting nowhere to her increasing dismay. I'm not going to panic, I'm not going to panic, I'm going to get out of this somehow...

What would the Turtles do? They would... undermine the threat with humor, before using their amazing ninja skills to affect an escape...

OK... That's real helpful!

One ninja raised his hand hesitantly, almost lowered it and one of his neighbors forced it high again. Tatsu noticed that. This question was from them all.

"Master, I, forgive me - that is..." He tailed off nervously as Tatsu waited with uncharacteristic patience. "What if we... I mean, if Master Shredder couldn't beat these Turtles...?" The man bowed low, fearing an outburst of violence from his volatile master.

"You are right to think this," said Tatsu, and many of them started in surprise. "These Turtles - we will not beat them with... stratagems, or making more freaks like them. We will beat them with numbers. With strength." Raising his hands, he held them far apart. "They are weak... They care for her..." A glance toward April, and her eyes widened in alarm. "That will be their death!"

Last edited by Musashi; 08-23-2020 at 03:36 PM.
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Old 11-26-2020, 01:33 PM   #1789
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So I've finally completed work on my ten-book series of FW TMNT Novellas that I started in 2012, and now the long process begins of collecting them all into one handy to read PDF download. Most of the heavy lifting is already done, I just need to spell-check all of it.

Included in the collection will be two bonus short stories, Next Week, Next Year, and The Order of the Day

Here's The Promotional Ad

Last edited by ZariusTwo; 11-26-2020 at 01:39 PM.
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Old 03-12-2021, 08:02 PM   #1790
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Chapter 9: The Triceraton civil war continues. Zantor now must make a difficult choice.
Originally Posted by MikeandRaph87 View Post
The biggest villains were the censors. What they could do without being held back is my question.

Shredder could've done more than blow up the Channel Six building. I don't mean as far as murdering Splinter, but think of the possibilities if censors were not an issue.

Shredder and Krang combined had the biggest arsenal of any villains in all of the cartoons.
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Old 08-02-2021, 09:12 PM   #1791
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Tweaked my story into a 7 part series.
Each episode roughly an hour long (60pgs).
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