Some soup and some ficage
OK so before I get to my little one-shot, episode 2 of Turtle Soup is finally out! WOO!
WOOO ok! Now for my little one-shot! You can read it on my fanfiction account, too, which is in the links section. :)
fandom: Ninja Turtles
title: The Root Of All Evil
rating: PG
genre: Humor
summary: The turtles face off against their most challenging enemy yet. In their minds, anyway. But the quest for perfect waffles was never an easy one.
~~~~~~~~~~
Leonardo scrutinized his opponent, an infallible expression on his stoic face. This was it. After so much planning, after so much doubt and uncertainty, it all came down to this moment.
His hand twitched unwillingly, instinct guiding it to the hilt of his katana; but he witheld, keeping his arm down, never taking his eyes off the enemy.
Slowly, carefully, Leo moved his hand until it was stretched out in front ot him. He could feel the eyes of his brothers on his back, observing his every move as he drew closer. He swallowed once; beads of sweat gathered on his brow but he dared not wipe them away.
Behind him, he could hear his brothers' even breathing. Someone shifted restlessly; probably Mike (Leo fought to keep his annoyance at bay, focusing on the task before him). Raph uttered a low, impatient growl in the back of his throat (Leo would have sushed him, but that would have thrown the entire mission off, and he would not compromise the mission). Don, bless him, kept silent.
He was almost there. His fingers brushed against sleek metal.
The enemy remained stationary, awaiting his move.
"Show time," Leo muttered, and quickly pushed the button down.
His brothers sucked in surprised breaths and all four turtles stood absolutely still. They had made their move, now all they could do was wait.
Seconds ticked by like eons. Leonardo secretly hated the waiting, though he never showed it. Mostly it was because at this point in the stand-off, he was helpless against his opponent. Of all things, he hated the feeling of vulnerability the most.
Donny glanced at his watch. "Ten seconds."
They all stiffened in anticipation. Leonardo stared forward intently, not flinching in what he knew was the true face of evil.
"Three... two... one!"
The slice of bread flew up with an audible 'pop!' Leonardo caught it in mid-air with lightning reflexes. Eyes narrowed behind a blue mask.
"Burned," he said quietly.
Cries of frustration filled the room. Michelangelo fell to his knees, letting out a long and dramatic "Nooo!"
"We were so close," Donatello said, clutching his fists at his side. "Where did we go wrong?"
Raphael cursed loudly, and in a burst of violence, slammed his fist into a wall that was in convenient reach.
Snapping out of his shocked state, Leo flung the burned toast aside in disgust.
"You win this time, toaster," he said menacingly, pointing a finger at the device. "But don't expect your victory to last long. We will have waffles cooked to crispy, golden perfection, if it's the last thing I do!"
Said toaster remained utterly unresponsive, mocking them in its silence as they made a hasty retreat from the kitchen. Once again, they had to resort to having cold, flimsy bread for breakfast.
Click to viewWOOO ok! Now for my little one-shot! You can read it on my fanfiction account, too, which is in the links section. :)
fandom: Ninja Turtles
title: The Root Of All Evil
rating: PG
genre: Humor
summary: The turtles face off against their most challenging enemy yet. In their minds, anyway. But the quest for perfect waffles was never an easy one.
~~~~~~~~~~
Leonardo scrutinized his opponent, an infallible expression on his stoic face. This was it. After so much planning, after so much doubt and uncertainty, it all came down to this moment.
His hand twitched unwillingly, instinct guiding it to the hilt of his katana; but he witheld, keeping his arm down, never taking his eyes off the enemy.
Slowly, carefully, Leo moved his hand until it was stretched out in front ot him. He could feel the eyes of his brothers on his back, observing his every move as he drew closer. He swallowed once; beads of sweat gathered on his brow but he dared not wipe them away.
Behind him, he could hear his brothers' even breathing. Someone shifted restlessly; probably Mike (Leo fought to keep his annoyance at bay, focusing on the task before him). Raph uttered a low, impatient growl in the back of his throat (Leo would have sushed him, but that would have thrown the entire mission off, and he would not compromise the mission). Don, bless him, kept silent.
He was almost there. His fingers brushed against sleek metal.
The enemy remained stationary, awaiting his move.
"Show time," Leo muttered, and quickly pushed the button down.
His brothers sucked in surprised breaths and all four turtles stood absolutely still. They had made their move, now all they could do was wait.
Seconds ticked by like eons. Leonardo secretly hated the waiting, though he never showed it. Mostly it was because at this point in the stand-off, he was helpless against his opponent. Of all things, he hated the feeling of vulnerability the most.
Donny glanced at his watch. "Ten seconds."
They all stiffened in anticipation. Leonardo stared forward intently, not flinching in what he knew was the true face of evil.
"Three... two... one!"
The slice of bread flew up with an audible 'pop!' Leonardo caught it in mid-air with lightning reflexes. Eyes narrowed behind a blue mask.
"Burned," he said quietly.
Cries of frustration filled the room. Michelangelo fell to his knees, letting out a long and dramatic "Nooo!"
"We were so close," Donatello said, clutching his fists at his side. "Where did we go wrong?"
Raphael cursed loudly, and in a burst of violence, slammed his fist into a wall that was in convenient reach.
Snapping out of his shocked state, Leo flung the burned toast aside in disgust.
"You win this time, toaster," he said menacingly, pointing a finger at the device. "But don't expect your victory to last long. We will have waffles cooked to crispy, golden perfection, if it's the last thing I do!"
Said toaster remained utterly unresponsive, mocking them in its silence as they made a hasty retreat from the kitchen. Once again, they had to resort to having cold, flimsy bread for breakfast.