Author's note: If you like this, please check out my other story, "My Sons, My Everything." Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, all related characters, and all derived works are the intellectual property of Nickelodeon, Viacom, Eastman, and Laird. This story is for entertainment purposes and not for monetary gain. In no way should this story be taken to be anything other than a fan-based expansion of and commentary on the source material. n00btmntfan is in no way associated with the makers of TMNT.

Raphael straightened the sheets and blankets on his bed. It was the closest he ever came to making it. In the morning, he left the bedclothes an untidy mess, but in the evening he straightened them so that his feet would not stick out.

With a yawn, he removed his belt and laid his sai on the nightstand. As he started to undo his elbow pads, there was a knock at the door.

"Can't a guy get any privacy?" he muttered as he went to open the door. He expected to find Mikey, all worked up from his latest horror story – but to his surprise, it was Master Splinter. "Oh. Hey, Sensei. What's up?"

"I came to see if you have been following the writing assignment that I gave you last week," Splinter said. "I believe I told you that I would be checking in on it."

The writing assignment? That lame thing? When Splinter said he expected them to start keeping journals, Raphael had hoped that he would somehow forget about it. He should have known that Splinter never – and really, never – forgot about anything.

"I can see from the expression on your face that you have not," Splinter said, furrowing his brow.

Raphael growled in frustration. "Sensei, it's pointless. I have nothing to write about. What good does it do, anyway?"

"As I told you last week, keeping a record of your activities provides insight into your personal growth. It can help you to learn from your mistakes. It helps you solve problems. And—for you especially, it can help you deal with anger, if you choose to write about the things that anger you."

"And you're going to read it to make sure we've been doing it? Why the heck would I want you to look at anything that personal?"

"Raphael, you know I said that I would only glance from a distance to see if you had been writing, not to read what you have written."

"I'm not the writing type. It's not my thing. I can solve problems and learn from my mistakes without writing a stupid essay every day."

Splinter frowned, a hint of anger flashing through his eyes. "I said you only need write even one sentence per day. It can be as simple as, 'Today, Master Splinter reminded me that if I do not follow his assignments, I will be grounded until I do.'" With that, Splinter turned and left.

Seriously? Raphael wanted to scream at Splinter. Was he seriously this lame? Couldn't he have given him a useful assignment, such as beating up Leo or Donnie or Mikey every single day to cope with his anger?

Well, he already did that, but nevertheless.

Hmph. Had those dorks actually been doing Splinter's idiotic assignment? He chuckled at the thought of Donnie keeping a diary full of nothing more than April's name surrounded by little hearts. And what the heck was Mikey going to be writing about? Cottage cheese demons? Leo's would probably be full of junk about how his brothers never followed orders and crud about Space Heroes.

An evil thought crossed Raphael's mind. What were those shell-brains actually writing about? Were their journals "helpful?" If they were just as dumb as he suspected they were, then he could at least feel better about doing the pointless cruddy assignment himself. He would wait until the others were asleep and find their journals to read. Maybe he'd even make some popcorn.

And just to get even with Splinter—and maybe call him out on being a hypocrite, he would see if Splinter was following his own advice.

Silently, Raph snuck into Donnie's lab to see if the egg-head was keeping his journal in here. Sure enough, in the top desk drawer was one of the leather bound journals that Splinter had given them seven days ago. He sat down at the desk and flipped the book open to the first page.

Today was a nightmare. I tried balancing the chemical formula that I think might be the key to a retro mutagen and it turned out I had the number of carbon atoms completely screwed up. I had to solve a seven-equation algebraic matrix just to discover this. Looking back at the diagram I drew…

Seriously? This was not even close to entertaining. Figures the nerd would journal about chemistry and what not. Raphael flipped to a different entry.

Metalhead is just about fixed up now. The poor little guy really got his circuits fried from those squirrelanoids we fought off. I hate seeing him all mangled up like that, but now he's close to being back to his adorable little self.

Oh. This was pure gold.

He really is a little cutie. I can't say that for many of my inventions…

Raphael was in tears from trying to hold in the laughter. He couldn't even finish reading this entry or he would lose it. He flipped the page to see if Donnie had written any more love letters to his little robot friend.

I wonder if April will ever forgive us.

Oh, boy, here we go with April. The little hearts would pop up at any moment.

I mean – we mutated her father. I'm not sure how we could have avoided it, since the battle was so intense. I keep going over the situation in my mind again and again. Was it my fault?

Suddenly, Raphael's stomach turned. He felt enormously guilty. The mutagen spill was equally his fault. No. Forget about fault. It was the Kraang's stupid fault. Why was Donnie blaming himself?

But for all of that, Raphael couldn't shake the feeling of guilt.

"This is stupid," he muttered. He slammed the book shut and stuffed it back in the desk drawer. "Let's see what kind of junk Mikey's been writing."

Mikey was a heavy sleeper, so this would be a cakewalk. He crept into his little brother's room. It was a complete wreck. Finding the journal would be a task for an excavation team. Luckily, he spied the leather-bound book lying on a stack of pizza boxes. With a wicked grin, Raphael swiped it and ran out to the living room to read it.

Immediately, there was an obstacle. Mikey's handwriting was practically indecipherable. But after looking at it for a few moments, Raphael was able to figure it out.

Dude I cant believe Splinter wants us to keep a journal and stuff this is going to be totally awesome. Its like I'm an author. Totally cool rite? Cuz what if someday its found and everyone will all be like whoa dudes look its a journal by a turtle dude and its all totally crazy and stuff. This Michelangelo dude sounds so awesome and handsome I bet the ladies really loved him.

Yeah. This was totally Mikey's handiwork. Totally crazy and stuff was exactly right. Rolling his eyes, Raphael flipped to the next page.

Why dont my bros ever give me any credit? There always being so mean and treat me like I'm just a dumb idiot. Dont they know I have feelings and stuff?

Oh brother. Flip to the next page.

So there was this chick on tv the other day and she totally had the sweetest juiciest melons I have ever seen. Serious cantaloupes man. Like there is no way those are found in nature.

Raphael grinned. He felt a sudden surge of affection for his little brother. He didn't realize that Mikey had started paying attention to women's…"produce." He always thought of Mikey as a clueless little kid. Well, he was still a clueless little kid, just now he had hormones thrown in the mix. What was even more impressive was that he was actually able to spell the word cantaloupe correctly. Well, if anything is important in spelling, it's knowing how to spell euphemisms for female anatomy.

He flipped the page. The next entry was only one sentence.

I am so lonely.

Raphael felt like he had been punched in the gut. Lonely? How could Mikey be lonely when he had three brothers around…

Three brothers who treated him like a dumb idiot.

Well, he is a dumb idiot, Raphael thought. But…lonely?

He had enough. He shut the journal and stealthily put it back into Mikey's room, placing it on the pizza box. He looked at his sleeping brother. With a sigh, he whispered, "I love you, man." Then, he left.

Did he really want to look at Leo's?

Well, duh. Of course he did. Nothing Leo wrote could surprise him, since it was sure to be full of whiny crap he'd already heard before.

Raphael was a little nervous as he entered Leo's room. Leo was kind of a light sleeper. Hopefully he wouldn't have to look too hard. Ah hah. There it was, right on top of the nightstand. He grabbed it and slipped out of the room. He stood in the hallway and flipped it open.

Well, here's my journal. I don't really know what to write. Splinter said it could help solve problems. Maybe it will, but I admit I'm a little skeptical.

Maybe Leo wasn't as much of a dork as he'd always thought. He turned to the next entry.

Today, Raph took me down during training. He is always so smug about it.

That's right Leo. Cry into your journal, you baby.

I wonder if he is like that because he feels insecure about himself.

I'm like that because I'm better than you, you dork, Raphael thought. With a growl, he flipped to the next page. He didn't need to read Leo's ego-tripping crap.

I can't stop thinking about Karai. I know she's Shredder's daughter. I know she'll never leave the Foot. But I really thought – what if there's still a chance she will change? I know I give Donnie a hard time about April but honestly, I think I'm just as dumb about Karai. I wish that I didn't feel like this, but I can't change what I'm feeling inside.

Wow. Did he actually feel sorry for Leo? It was totally dumb, Leo was right about that, but Raphael thought that maybe it wasn't so easy to let go. It was complicated.

That's why he made it personal goal to never develop any feelings of attachment to a girl. What could be more pointless than getting one's hopes up when no girl would ever like a turtle anyway? He could just save himself the trouble by not even thinking about it. Not that he didn't, like Mikey, appreciate a nice set of melons, but it was incredibly stupid to feel anything beyond a simple appreciation of the female form. Once feelings get involved, it just gets messy and stupid. Case in point: Donnie. Case in point: Leo. There you have it.

Still, he kind of felt sorry for his brothers and their hopeless crushes, even if it was their own fault. He closed up Leo's journal and quietly replaced it.

Now...to see if Splinter practiced what he preached.

[to be continued]