A lot of you guys seemed to like the Apocalypse AU with 2012 Raph (I know it’s an older post that isn’t looked at much now but still)…so what if we got a Donnie’s perspective in the same AU?
Donnie’s tirelessly trying to find the cure to this mutagenic/viral hybrid ?
Donnie’s girlfriend was killed in crossfire. This is the Aftermath.
For weeks, all Donnie has seen is the blue light of his computer. He’s turned off all of his fairy lights and crawled into the dim of his lab, working on various projects for his racing mind. For too long he’s been unreachable.
Therehad to have been a way to salvage it. There had to have been. He is Donatello, the genius, the innovator.
He hadn’t known such a string of bitter failures until her. Each one after the other, all adding up to converge in one dark, dark timeline—if that idea was true, he thought. That night could have gone one of two ways, and the way that it went will forever be his biggest regret.
His fingers don’t feel so diligent anymore. Not right now, at least. They fumble and drop the delicate tool he’s working with, something that grates on his last nerve.
“No, no, stop—work for me!” he says angrily, looking at his hand. It has never been this bad before.
It’s been hours since he continued his work. He can’t stomach it anymore. He can’t drop another tool, write one more word in his notes illegibly; he has to stop. And that’s only possible with another existing directive for him to focus on. With a sigh, he leaves the counter for the computer instead. There’s always something to be done or looked at there.
“How can there be nothing?” he asks no one, picking through all his feed and reports of the week. No trace of the Foot, the bastard of the city. The coward. Disgusting, vile, it’s vile, his stomach is twisting—
He stands up from his chair. Plants his palms on the edge of the desk. His gaze is lost in the still blue glow of the screen, a deep droning fading into his hearing. Like the sound of a wasp in flight. His ears are ringing; tinnitus he’s developed from being in close range to gunshots, but it’s slowly getting better. They heal where humans can’t.
But it’s driving him crazy.
Not being able to figure out if it’s the silence he can’t stand or the presence of noise, he reaches over and flicks on his stereo, letting the heavy metal play.
That’s better. The rhythmic pounding in his ears and incessant, barely heard ring is thoroughly drowned by the sound.
The sheer exhaustion makes itself known by the heaviness he feels in his eyes, squinting into the darkness as he turns around and leans his back against the desk. He should sleep. But if he lays down, the thoughts will come back.
He looks at the bottle of melatonin April gave him last week. To help him sleep, she said. He needed to sleep.
There is no more to be done here, nothing engrossing enough he can occupy himself with without making himself anxious or mad. So he takes the bottle and dumps out the pills as he needs, popping them into his mouth before washing it down with the stray bottle of Gatorade on the floor. It’s now he realizes just how dehydrated he is and finishes off the entire bottle.
“You know,” he starts in a mutter, wiping liquid from his mouth, but he can’t bring himself to say it audibly.
I never believed in God, he thinks. And I still won’t. I refuse.
In the moment she’d needed a miracle, He was nowhere to be found. Only Donnie had been her failure of a guardian angel that night, escorting her to the long dark himself. Trying to get a word out of her, trying his hardest to do what he could before it was too late. He’d held her small hand. Death isn’t beautiful, he thinks sourly, shaking his head. He hasn’t blinked in minutes. Nothing had been beautiful about that moment. Only surreal.
If gasping and choking for words was gorgeous, then the Foot soldier had been a true artist, he supposes, amused to the lowest degree. Behind him, his hands grip the edge of the desk so hard that his palms are beginning to hurt.
All his life had the background of struggle, the possibility of getting found out and their family torn apart. More recently, the Shredder on their tail, with blood on his mind. The stakes were even higher with the more human connections they gained between April, Casey, and [y/n]. More to bargain with, more to threaten, they’d found Donnie’s weak point: his one and only girlfriend. The one spot he couldn’t always defend, because as much as he wanted her to stay with him in the sewers, safe, she had a life too.
Donnie often felt the weight of it later, but he’d always known the looming threat of it all. Figuratively, The Sword of Damocles could have been seen as a recurring theme in their life, but he’d never wanted to look at it so grimly.
So, that was it. One moment she was there, the next she was gone, and reality was reaching crushing depth, critical mass, on him.
In Donnie’s room, he lay in his bed, staring up at the sprawl of papers, stickers, and random equations on his ceiling. The natural course of action seems to try to move on. But how, when he needs to figure out what he could have done to make things right? He shakes that train of thought away. Leo had told him this was a dangerous way to think for his emotional health, but it just felt too soon to regulate.
For once, his multitude of lights are on, the Christmas string next to him creating an array of colors against his wall. One bulb has gone out; the one he’s neglected to fix because it doesn’t matter, but curiously flickers on in his peripheral vision, eventually coming to stay lit.
The small blue light next to him burns softly, observing Donnie in calm silence as he nods off to sleep. His tense face relaxes. He’d always looked so sweet asleep. She wished she could have seen it more often.
The light escapes the bulb and floats to his bedside where a figure so faint sits at the edge, stroking his hand resting on his chest as he falls into a deep sleep. Her poor Donnie.
Sleep well, love.
A/N: I just kind of hate how death is romanticized sometimes, I took a request once about this but the gif they added depicted a girl dying beautifully so that was the inspiration for that particular point, hope it came off alright
*Story Summary: Sometimes, sorry really is the hardest word.
*Note:This one-shot takes place after the episode ‘Slash and Destroy.’ It’s a companion piece to my works ‘Mikey’s Worst Move Ever’ and ‘Slash’s Revenge.’
*Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles franchise.
In the history of rotten days, this had to be one of the worst. Hamato Donatello breathed out a sullen sigh that no one could actually hear. Unlike him, the rest of his family was probably fast asleep by now, but he just could not seem to settle into a comfortable position. This was not for lack of trying. He had spent the lion’s share of the past hour shifting in his bed, vainly attempting to find peace, but alas, comfort was not meant to be. Maybe that’s because he had been beaten to a pulp not all that long ago.
Everythinghurt.
Whether he laid on his side, his front, or his back, the pain would radiate throughout his body. A harsh, relentless reminder of what had happened that night.
That awful, awful night.
Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Donatello wearily gazed out at the shadows enveloping his room. Something about the darkness sent a chill creeping up and down his spine.
It was so menacing.
So very sinister.
So eerily reminiscent.
A whimper threatened to escape the confines of his parched throat as a flood of memories came rushing back without mercy. Disturbing memories he’d just as soon forget…
Based off of my apocalypse AU that I created for Raph a while back. Here is Donnie’s version. :) (written in third perspective but using [y/n] in place of a name.)
Running out of time.
The solution had to be somewhere amongst all his papers.
Time is running out, thought Donnie again as he stared long and hard over his notes. Data he’d gathered and extrapolations he’d made over and over again—what was missing? He knew how to create retro mutagen. He had the formulas. He had the tools. He had the mind. But there were holes in his research. Things he had no access to. This wasn’t just Ooze he was dealing with; it was a hybrid, pathogen and mutagen spliced together to make a catastrophe that spread. And it spread fast.
He glanced over at the map pinned to a corkboard, routes and places of interest he’d drawn sprawling all over it. But one fat red line stuck out the most: the projected path of the horde that was currently accumulating. Just another addition to his list of problems.
Donnie’s brain worked every which way. His attention was divided between a set of different things, a heavy burden on his drooping shoulders. Between the cure, taking care of other things that needed to be done, and her, he was stretched thin.
Behind him on a mattress on the cold floor was his newest patient, which he was reminded to check the temperature of when he heard rustling in the sheets. His tires eyes lifted from the papers quickly, grabbing a thermometer off the shelf to head over to the girl starting to toss awake. Without fail, he felt a pang of guilt every time.
If anyone was strong when it came to this situation, it was him. And maybe Leo. Though their leader was preoccupied, he still came to check in, and even he had a grimace at it. Donnie knelt down. Don’t look bleak, he instructed himself as he pulled a tender smile and took one of her hands. “Sleepy, are we?” he asked as she roused awake. “Gotta take your temperature again. How do you feel?”
She sat up against the wall, obviously drained but fighting sleep. She, too, managed to force a smile through the waves of nausea and headaches as if to say “all better”, which made her happy too see his face soften. “I feel a little hot, but that’s all,” she said.
Then the virus hasn’t progressed, he thought with a glint of hope. We still have some time. That was all he needed.
He gave her the thermometer, her flinching back as their fingers touched. “Won’t you get it too being around me like this?” she asked with concern, having put some distance between them.
“Well, you aren’t developing pustules or any open sores, so it’s okay for now,” he replied, handing the thermometer back to her. And when she did? He’d copped a hazmat suit and more than enough disposable gloves a month prior. They both waited with bated breath for the little beeps. Both jumped as a gunshot sounded from the platform upstairs—it was Casey picking off incoming infected from the window again, as was his evening shift. A straggler here and there was not welcome in their compound. Casey was quick to dispatch any that wandered too close so long as his pistol had a silencer.
The thermometer beeped, and Donnie took it, inspecting the numbers. 100.1°. Not great.
She saw his face fall ever so slightly. His brow ridges stitched as he slipped the notebook from his belt and scratched in a log of her temperature, among a growing list. It had been on a steady incline since three days prior and the…incident.
Hearing the shot fire above them, she played with her thumbs. She knew Donnie was under a lot of stress. And to add onto that? She felt guilty.
“Seems like Casey’s becoming quite the sharpshooter,” she commented in the silence. “And seems like we’ve been hearing those more often. I wonder why the infected are out more these days.”
Donnie set his notebook on the tray next to the mattress and sat back on his legs. “They’re starving,” he said, “most of the city’s been turned, so…they have to look. But they can survive a lot longer without food than us.“ The air between them was filled with a looming feeling of uncertainty. Donnie was sure he could find the cure. He’d done it before for mutants, he could do it for infected people, too. But time of was the essence and resources were running out. He had to work harder.
“Hey, not so different from us, then,” she joked in a low voice, letting her head fall back and eyes close shut. Being sick was really taking a toll. How much longer would she be able to keep a straight face for him with the body aches, the skin burning, and the chills? Oh, the chills. Along with the fever, it was turning Autumn in New York City. She cracked an eye open to find him deep on thought.
“Donnie,” someone called from the entrance to his lab space. There were some empty crates they’d stacked up and around the corner to give him some privacy to work. He snapped out of his thoughts it to find Leo leaning in. Leo motioned with his head for him to follow.
Another family meeting, she thought in dry humor. Probably a game plan on how to deal with her when push came to shove. Which was looking inevitable, but she’d never let Donnie know how she felt that way.
“I’ll be back, okay?” Donnie said, reassuring her of the fact that he would not leave her side for long. He’d been practically glued to it, even moved the mattress into the back corner of his pseudo lab to be able to pay more attention to her. They could always count on Donnie for that.
“I’ll be here,” she mumbled, laying down to face the wall.
Donnie met at kitchen table with everyone else. They were all a little awkward and downtrodden, but Leo poised himself, clearing his throat. “There have been more infected on the move here lately. Casey, you say you shot three just in the last two hours?” Leo started. His eyes flitted over to Casey, who sat halfway on the table. Casey nodded and continued chewing his gum; the sound was driving Donnie up the wall. Casey acted flippant as ever, but even he was troubled by the turn of events.
“Hit ‘em right in the head, bull’s-eye,” said Casey, pretending to fire a finger pistol.
Leo turned his attention back to Donnie. “And [y/n]? How is she?” he inquired.
Feeling everyone’s expectant eyes on him, Donnie went by all of them with his, one by one, and answered: “Stable. Doing….okay.” He wasn’t known to be obtuse on purpose, but everyone around the table could tell he wasn’t going to speculate to them. That was fine, thought Leo. She still had time; in turn, they did as well. Leo would have to make a note to check in with her more often to gauge their next move. For now, they had other issues.
“Look, guys,” Leo said with a sigh, “I know you like the warehouse—I do too—but it’s just not safe here anymore. We’ve had two fence breaches this month and it’s only going to get worse from here. We’re in a bad spot. We need to move. I’m thinking upstate, less people and April’s got a farmhouse out there.”
Raph was glaring down at the table. “So, what? We get pushed out of our old home in the sewers and now we’re getting pushed out of here, too? Is that what we’re doing now? Being pushovers?” he spat. “What’s a few more infected? Last time I checked, we didn’t have a problem. Just fix up the fence and we’ll be fine.” As usual, he focused on Leo, his mounting anger directed right at his older brother. Leo ignored the bitterness in his tone and continued.
“Donnie, tell them what you heard,” Leo said, rubbing his face.
Way to put me on the spot. His fingers drummed the edge of the table as all but Leo waited to hear the latest update, but they weren’t going to like what he had to say. “I—I picked up some radio chatter about a week ago about a horde supposedly starting to form,“ he said uncomfortably. “I didn’t know if it was true or not, so I watched the channels over the last few days, and…yeah, a horde’s on the move, and it’s headed our way. Pockets of infected are assimilating and I don’t know why.”
Scowling, Raph turned heel and stormed out of the room with Mikey on his tail trying to get him back. April put a gentle hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Let him cool off,” she said, and Mikey reluctantly came back round, downcast.
“So…that’s it. We need to pack up. I know, I like it here, too. Donnie, how much time do we have?” Leo looked his way.
“Not enough,” he always wanted to say, but he bit his tongue and opted for an estimate of about two days given that the infected didn’t exactly move with purpose. As far as they were concerned, they only knew one speed when unstimulated, and that was: meander. “Considering it’s not really moving in a straight line and they’re not the smartest, we have some time to get out. If that’s what we want to do. Maybe the warehouse will hold?”
"But my equipment!” he’d wanted to argue. Not all of it would fit between their two vans. He feared for the worst that he wouldn’t be able to save anyone without it. If they left, his only option would be to start from scratch again, and for [y/n], that was not an option.
But to seize a lab was an option.
For everyone’s sake, we can make one petty crime.
Leo crossed his arms, tapping his chin. “I can’t take that chance. It’s my job to keep you guys safe. I’m sorry, Donnie.”
“Whatever,” murmured Casey as he hopped off the table and went to join Raph.
“I miss Master Splinter…” Mikey said under his breath. April sensed some unspoken words between Donnie and Leo and took her leave as well.
And then there were two. Donnie gripped the edge of the table, fixing his gaze away from the harsh orange light dangling above them. After a moment, he spoke. “There’s a lab East of here. A real one. I don’t know its status right now, but if I could just get in and get the research, I know I can make a cure,” he said hopefully. “I need to get to that lab, Leo. If not for the sake of everyone, but for [y/n].”
“What if there are still people there?” Leo asked.
“Then we’ll break in at night,” Donnie responded. “Like we always do. I need to do this, Leo.” Only the fate of [y/n], my family, and possibly the whole country is resting in my hands, no pressure, right?
“We’ll figure it out,” Leo concurred. “We know you’ve got what it takes, Donnie. We’ll do everything we can to help.” He gave a reassuring smile, the one that always makes them feel like it all might just be okay. If Leo could muster one, Donnie could, too, which he did after they all dispersed from the little kitchen table and he headed back downstairs. “[Y/N], do you need any—” he started, but stopped upon seeing her sound asleep. Though mostly comprised of mutagen, the pathogenic part of the virus was the part the body tried its hardest to fight. But the unstable nature of the mutagen made it a tossup of how strong each case would be. Donnie could only hope that hers was a weak one.
On his tips of his toes he went to her side, pulling the fleece blanket up to her neck. It was getting cold out. Anything to make her more comfortable. Then he prepared a bowl of cool water and a rag for if she got hot, placing it on the tray next to her for her to find in case he wasn’t there. His hand lingered there hovering above her shoulder, wanting to feel the warm comfort of knowing that she was in fact still with them and still had a chance. Should he wake her up to tell her Leo’s verdict? It seemed like the right choice. But she looked far more peaceful than any of them in her own world just then, and he wanted to keep it that way only for a little longer, so he whispered a goodnight and went back to his station.
Seeing that she was taken care of, he quietly resumed his work over yonder, unaware that she had been laying still, but fully awake.
Me posting this anyway even though I’m unsure and don’t know if I’m digging it yet
mystic fusion au where Shenanigans Happen involving a mystic object that is supposed to “increase strength” by combining two people; ofc they use it wrong and get stuck (donnie and leo are the first bc i’m biased but i have ideas for the other combos too)
Guess I’m rewatching movies I used to watch then…..
I remember watching tmnt 2014 and it looked so cool, I used watched the original movies from 1991 and even the series from 2012, but I still loved how different they looked in Bayverse.
Donato di Niccolo Bardi, called Donatello was an early Renaissance sculptor from Florence Italy. Donatello took a fundamental step toward depicting motion in the human figure by recognizing the principle of weight shift or contrapposto. Greek sculptors in the 5th century were the first to grasp the concept. Donatello reintroduced this concept into Renaissance statuary. Donatello’s Saint Mark (first image) is the first Renaissance statue whose voluminous robe does not conceal but accentuates the movement of arms, legs, shoulders, and hips. The Bronze David is Donatello’s most famous work. At the time of its creation, it was the first known free-standing nude statue produced since ancient times. The clergy regarded nude statues as both indecent and idolatrous, and nudity in general appeared only rarely in art—and then only in biblical or moralizing contexts, such as the story of Adam and Eve or depictions of sinners in Hell . (x)(x)
I know I’ve been inactive lately, I’ve been meaning to get to this blog. Ha.
I just want to touch base on how fucking adorable Donnie was when he was getting into his little rap song. Honestly my most favorite part. Josh I know why they casted you to be Donnie. You make that baby boy SHINE spot on. Lol.
Hey y'all, it’s been two months since the Style on the Rise fashion zine was released!! So that means I can finally share all the work I did for it publicly! ^^
I had an absolute blast working on this project with everyone, the collabs were great and I really pushed myself past my comfort level with my solo piece at the top!
![Gotta take a selfie with the Mona Lisa'ed Leonardo! [: @plantasaurus] . . . #tmnt #teenagemutantnin](https://64.media.tumblr.com/86e8616dc513e2be2689d9bc85244152/tumblr_od93saFUEd1qgojdbo1_1280.jpg "Gotta take a selfie with the Mona Lisa'ed Leonardo! [: @plantasaurus] . . . #tmnt #teenagemutantnin")
