Craft Bingo Fill: Drawing
Mar. 16th, 2024 08:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
languajixBingo Card: Craft Bingo 2024
Prompt: Drawing
Fandom: Batman vs TMNT
Wordcount: 787
Summary: Mikey and Raph sign Donnie's cast.
Warnings: None
"Mikey, if you don't move your shell, I'm gonna move it for you!"
"Okay, okay, hold on," Michelangelo, leaning over the table upon which Donatello's cast-covered arm was currently splayed, had his tongue stuck out as he concentrated hard on whatever he was drawing. A variety of markers in every color imaginable were scattered haphazardly on the table; some had already rolled off onto the floor.
Donnie didn't seem to notice the mess; he was currently scrunched in a chair with his knees folded up and his toes curling over the seat's edge, typing away on his phone with a single-minded focus, lost in his own little world. Only the slight hint of a frown betrayed whatever he was feeling at the moment.
(Barbara. They'd been back from Gotham for less than a day, and Donnie had barely stopped. I need to get a photo of this project for Barbara, Barbara had some suggestions for our patrol schedule, did you know Barbara installed a real-time sample analyzer in her motorcycle? Jeez, why didn't he just marry her already?)
"Nope, time's up!" Raphael set his hand on Mikey's head and pushed down until only the very top curve of green scales was visible over the rim of his plastron.
"Heeeeeeey," Mikey whined, his voice echoing around the inside of his shell. "I need my eyes to see so I can finish my masterpiece! No one treated the original Michelangelo like this!"
Donnie raised his head and inhaled sharply, sensing an opportunity to infodump like an Irish Setter sensing a bird. "Actually-"
"Quit your whining, Mike, and go get ready for patrol. I just need to sign his cast and then we can get outta here," Raph interjected quickly, tapping Mike's shell firmly with his knuckle a couple of times for emphasis.
"Aww. Fine." Mikey popped his head up and dropped the marker in his hand. It rolled sadly across the table, just barely stopping before it would have tipped over the edge. "But I'm gonna finish as soon as we get back, okay Donnie? So don't go anywhere. This bad boy's gonna be in the MOMA once it comes off."
"Not going anywhere. I hate, hate, hate broken arms," Donnie grumbled at his phone.
As soon as Mikey slid out of the seat, Raph dropped in, grabbing a red marker with the intent to scratch his name across one of the few remaining blank spots. Before he could, though, Donnie raised his gaze from his phone and cut in, a little hesitant, trying and failing to sound casual. Quiet, like he didn't want Mikey overhearing the request and making a stink.
"Hey, I was wondering... could you... draw Mr. Turtle? Only if you want to, I mean."
Mr. Turtle. Raph hadn't thought about that in ages. When they were kids, he'd gone through a phase where he'd wanted to become a comic book artist, and he'd started his own little comic strip with a turtle protagonist. It had been clumsy, pointless and meandering, but his brothers had loved it, eating up every strip. Leo had collected them all in a little crate in his room. Were they still there?
He hadn't drawn much since. He had a lot of other hobbies to take up his time. Turns out living the life of a mutated ninja turtle teenager could keep you pretty busy.
"...Why?"
Donnie shrugged his opposite shoulder. "I don't know, I kinda liked that little guy. I thought he was cute. You used to draw all the time, but I can't think of the last time I saw you doing it."
Raph frowned. "It's been, what, eight years? Pretty sure it's gonna suck."
Donnie flashed him a small smile before his attention settled back on his phone. "Didn't you hear? This thing's going in the MOMA. They'll eat it up."
Heh. Fine. Raph twirled the red marker in his grip, thinking through the shape he was about to draw. "Don't say I didn't warn you, Don, but sure."
Four minutes later, Mike bounced back into the room, all geared up for patrol. He leaned over the table to see Raph finishing up the last strokes on his little turtle doodle.
"Hey!! That's where my rocketship was gonna go!"
Raph turned around in his seat and grabbed Mikey in a headlock, using the marker to quickly swipe a red mustache along Mike's snout, the ink bleeding brown against the green of his scales. "Too bad, I had a request!"
"He did," confirmed Donnie, who was already snapping photos of both his decorated cast and Mikey's new mustache. "I wanted him to do Mr. Turtle. And he did a great job."
Thank you, Don.
"Barbara thinks so, too."
Ughhhhh.
Prompt: Drawing
Fandom: Batman vs TMNT
Wordcount: 787
Summary: Mikey and Raph sign Donnie's cast.
Warnings: None
"Mikey, if you don't move your shell, I'm gonna move it for you!"
"Okay, okay, hold on," Michelangelo, leaning over the table upon which Donatello's cast-covered arm was currently splayed, had his tongue stuck out as he concentrated hard on whatever he was drawing. A variety of markers in every color imaginable were scattered haphazardly on the table; some had already rolled off onto the floor.
Donnie didn't seem to notice the mess; he was currently scrunched in a chair with his knees folded up and his toes curling over the seat's edge, typing away on his phone with a single-minded focus, lost in his own little world. Only the slight hint of a frown betrayed whatever he was feeling at the moment.
(Barbara. They'd been back from Gotham for less than a day, and Donnie had barely stopped. I need to get a photo of this project for Barbara, Barbara had some suggestions for our patrol schedule, did you know Barbara installed a real-time sample analyzer in her motorcycle? Jeez, why didn't he just marry her already?)
"Nope, time's up!" Raphael set his hand on Mikey's head and pushed down until only the very top curve of green scales was visible over the rim of his plastron.
"Heeeeeeey," Mikey whined, his voice echoing around the inside of his shell. "I need my eyes to see so I can finish my masterpiece! No one treated the original Michelangelo like this!"
Donnie raised his head and inhaled sharply, sensing an opportunity to infodump like an Irish Setter sensing a bird. "Actually-"
"Quit your whining, Mike, and go get ready for patrol. I just need to sign his cast and then we can get outta here," Raph interjected quickly, tapping Mike's shell firmly with his knuckle a couple of times for emphasis.
"Aww. Fine." Mikey popped his head up and dropped the marker in his hand. It rolled sadly across the table, just barely stopping before it would have tipped over the edge. "But I'm gonna finish as soon as we get back, okay Donnie? So don't go anywhere. This bad boy's gonna be in the MOMA once it comes off."
"Not going anywhere. I hate, hate, hate broken arms," Donnie grumbled at his phone.
As soon as Mikey slid out of the seat, Raph dropped in, grabbing a red marker with the intent to scratch his name across one of the few remaining blank spots. Before he could, though, Donnie raised his gaze from his phone and cut in, a little hesitant, trying and failing to sound casual. Quiet, like he didn't want Mikey overhearing the request and making a stink.
"Hey, I was wondering... could you... draw Mr. Turtle? Only if you want to, I mean."
Mr. Turtle. Raph hadn't thought about that in ages. When they were kids, he'd gone through a phase where he'd wanted to become a comic book artist, and he'd started his own little comic strip with a turtle protagonist. It had been clumsy, pointless and meandering, but his brothers had loved it, eating up every strip. Leo had collected them all in a little crate in his room. Were they still there?
He hadn't drawn much since. He had a lot of other hobbies to take up his time. Turns out living the life of a mutated ninja turtle teenager could keep you pretty busy.
"...Why?"
Donnie shrugged his opposite shoulder. "I don't know, I kinda liked that little guy. I thought he was cute. You used to draw all the time, but I can't think of the last time I saw you doing it."
Raph frowned. "It's been, what, eight years? Pretty sure it's gonna suck."
Donnie flashed him a small smile before his attention settled back on his phone. "Didn't you hear? This thing's going in the MOMA. They'll eat it up."
Heh. Fine. Raph twirled the red marker in his grip, thinking through the shape he was about to draw. "Don't say I didn't warn you, Don, but sure."
Four minutes later, Mike bounced back into the room, all geared up for patrol. He leaned over the table to see Raph finishing up the last strokes on his little turtle doodle.
"Hey!! That's where my rocketship was gonna go!"
Raph turned around in his seat and grabbed Mikey in a headlock, using the marker to quickly swipe a red mustache along Mike's snout, the ink bleeding brown against the green of his scales. "Too bad, I had a request!"
"He did," confirmed Donnie, who was already snapping photos of both his decorated cast and Mikey's new mustache. "I wanted him to do Mr. Turtle. And he did a great job."
Thank you, Don.
"Barbara thinks so, too."
Ughhhhh.
